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a new teal sweater

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“I like your sweater,” remarked Cormoran. “Nice, ah, color.”

“Thanks,” Robin replied, readjusting the neckline again. It kept falling open, and he spent a not-inconsiderate amount of effort keeping his eyes off her generous cleavage, but it was undeniably flattering.

After a frustrated moment, she said, “It’s not what I wanted.”

“What?”

“I don’t think he understands at all what I want.”

Cormoran felt as though he’d entered this conversation halfway through.

“The new boyfriend? Surely you can dump him?”

“I suppose…”

“You ought to date men who understand you,” Cormoran said, not looking at her.

“You’re right,” she sighed.