“You are an idiot. A preposterous fool. Bless your heart. I don’t know what I see in you,” he hissed. “The reason I don’t fuss about dinner is that I don’t care. There are a lot of things I don’t care about. One thing I do care about, you poor sweet idiot, is who I—” he broke off, realizing his voice had raised above a whisper. “You get the picture.”
