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old enough to fool the bartender.
But I’ve got the sympathy thing
going on. Micah has talked his older
siblings into providing us both
with stiff drinks. Just think if your
father showed up after eight years.
Wouldn’t you want a nip of stress
reliever too? Anyway, we’re celebrating.
Aunt Cora issued strict orders:
No matter what, there will be no
fights. No
arguments. No name-
calling. Plenty of time to sort
this out tomorrow. Right? Yeah.
When she’s on her honeymoon.
Trey tried to make conversation.
So did Maureen. I asked for some
time to think things over. So far,
they’ve respected that. Makes me
happy. Or maybe it’s the mojitos.
Micah and I are sloshing them down.
THE MORE I THINK ABOUT BRYCE
And how he left without giving me
a chance to explain … how he left
without even saying good-bye …
the faster I slosh. By the time
Aunt Cora and Liam shove cake
in each other’s faces, I am completely,
amazingly, dizzyingly drunk. You
might even say I’m smashed.
