Our eyes met across the table. I knew Bobby felt the heat of my glare.
"Are you serious?" My whisper came out as a hiss.
"Wait, wait." He reached out, but didn't touch me. Good thing, since I was close to walking out of the restaurant.
"You thought re-running this little trick would make everything all better?"
"Okay, I get it," he said. "You hate me."
"No. I don't hate you. I'm angry at you."
I watched as the gears turned in his brain, processing my words. "So... how do you stop being angry?" he asked. "What should I do?"
"What shouldn't you have done, you mean?"
"Eames, I asked Ross to tell you! Moran had me by the short hairs."
I believed him. Bobby had deserved my anger, but it was time to get over it.
"So, what now?" he asked.
"Here are my terms..." I caught his hand and steered the spoonful of flan to my mouth.