“Fuck you, Baz. Seriously.” I’m standing so close, I’m practically spitting in his face. “She was carrying around your bloody handkerchief, that whole time you were gone. Since last year.” “What handkerchief?” I go to the drawer where the handkerchief is shoved in with my wand and a few other things, then I wave it in his face. “This one.” Baz pulls the fabric out of my hand, and I pull it right back because I don’t want him to have it. I don’t want him to have anything right now. “Look,” he says. “I’ll stop. I’ll leave Wellbelove alone from now on. She doesn’t matter to me.” “That makes it
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