“You say you developed feelings for that girl—” He air-quoted the word feelings, a Parker Jotter pen between his fingers. I wanted to put him in a box. It’d be worth the solitary confinement. “Sailor,” I cut him off. “Her name is not ‘that girl’. It’s Sailor.” “Yes. Her. And I say this is just a desperate plea to try to save your inheritance. So how about this? I’m giving you a second chance. A clean slate. A redemption, if you will. Admit that this was a lie, that you didn’t actually develop feelings toward Sailor, and I will tear this will apart right now. But there is a condition.” “What’s
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