"What is wrong with you?" I ask, twisting to pull myself out of his hold, balling up the blanket and tossing that at him if he still needs something to squeeze to make him feel better.

"You sit there and lay out a list of why this doesn't work because of what's wrong with me and then that?" It goes well beyond mixed signals. Even if it was a joke, how does now feel like the appropriate time? "You can look, but you can't have." Which is nothing new, least of all with regards to Danny, but that was before I had.