Romeo shot her a look. "Rosaline's happy and alive," he reminded her. "She could not have less interest in me, and never has had any. That's not what matters."

"My point is," he resumed, because he had been thinking about this, "that was love, and Angela was the drink, really, but they both end with me saying words too fast because saying them felt romantic. I'm older now; I have no true excuse, and I do know I hurt you."