“I stalked you, Bernadette,” Cal says with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. “There is no other way to put it. I can’t romanticize it or explain it. I’m sure it isn’t healthy.” He looks back up at me, but there’s no shame or regret in his gaze. None at all. “I’d do it all over again though, if given the chance. We are beautiful poison, not perfume.”