He stares at me in silence.
“No daisies. Not flowers, and nothing else, either, like curtains or whatnot with pictures of them,” I continue. “She’s not triggered by suits anymore, but men’s ties can still distress her. If you’re in public, and the place is crowded with unfamiliar men wearing suits, you need to hold her hand.”
He looks down at himself, focusing on his silk gray tie, then lifts his head and passes his eyes over my T-shirt and jeans. When he moves his gaze up and our eyes meet, I see the loathing there.
“Jesus f**k!” he barks. “You’re in love with her.”
I don’t look away as I reply, “Yes.”
“She’s eighteen, for God’s sake! You are too old for her. Asya needs someone her age. And definitely not an ex-convict.”
“You checked me out?”
“Of course I checked you out. I
