“I have had the patience of a fucking saint,” he says, and I gape at him. “Do you want a fucking medal?” I sputter, and he steps forward until he’s crowding me back into the bathroom sink. “No, I want you to trust me and trust that there’s nothing that trashy whore could do that I couldn’t fix for you. They want to kick you out? I’ll fix it. They want to bad mouth you? I’ll fix it. They want to hurt you in any way? I’ll fucking fix it.”
