My chest constricts. "What?"

"I might say the same of you," Orlando repeats.

"What do you mean?"

"You and your so-called 'doodles.' " He watches me levelly. "You claim you aren't an artist. You claim you can't tell stories. But I've seen your work, Maggie. I told you the first day we met that you have an interesting perspective, and I wasn't lying. You're talented. You're imaginative. And I think if you wanted to, you could make a career of ...