you’ve got no reason to believe this, but I’m not an alcoholic. Or a sexoholic. Or a drug addict.” There was a lengthy silence. I stared at the crisp, white tablecloth, wanting to die. “Well,” Oliver said at last. “I’ve one reason to believe it.” In an ideal world, I would have behaved with terrible dignity. In the world I actually lived in, I gave him a sullen glance. “Which is?” “You told me otherwise.
