Stella looked up from The Washington Post and glared at George, taking a calming sip of her coffee. “I agree,” he said, his teeth clenched. “I don’t understand why you’d be friends with him.” “Because we became friends, something I’m sorely lacking since Millie is barely talking to me.” “You could be friends with tons of different people, El. Why him?” “Look, we’ve gone around and around about this. What do you want me to do, George? He’s my friend. You didn’t seem to have a problem with me being friends with men when you met me.” “Patrick and Billy were your roommates, not someone you fucked.” This argument had been continuous since Jesse had sent flowers (and not just some flowers, a whole roomful of flowers) to the rehab facility while George was visiting Stella, but it got even worse after George learned that Jesse had visited her at his house and that he played for the Falcons.
