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“Oh, fuck you.”

I blink.

She points at me. “No. Don’t look surprised. You don’t get to say filthy things to me for four days and then clutch your pearls because the librarian says fuck.”

Despite everything, my mouth twitches.

“Don’t smile.”

“Can’t help it.”

“I’m furious with you.”

“I noticed.”

“Why are we done?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

I glance toward the café windows.

People are watching.

Of course they are.

“Get on the bike.”

“No.”

“Clara.”

“You wanted to discuss what this town thinks about us. Let’s do it right here.”

Jesus Christ.

“You’re too good for this.”

The second I say it, I know I’ve made a mistake.

Her face goes still. “For what?”

“Me.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t.”

“No. Say it again.”

“I’m not doing this.”

“You just did.”

I drag a hand through my hair. “Everyone in there thinks the same fucking thing.”

“I don’t care.”