“What the hell was that?” we all cried in unison once Bitsy and Mikey were—hopefully—out of earshot.
Thumper and Bob-Gunnar both turned on me, eyes wide. “Okay, that whole mess was your idea,” Thumper said.
“Yeah, I’m cutting you off,” Bob-Gunnar said, pulling my empty glass from my hands. “Well, I would cut you off, except they’re gone now, and we might need another round for this conversation.” He carried both our glasses off to the side table by the door that seemed to function as the summertime bar, and Thumper followed him, shaking the ice in his otherwise empty glass.
“You could have acted a little less happy to meet her son,” I told Thumper. “We’re madly in love, remember?”
“Um, we’ve been madly in love for about five minutes. It slipped my mind. What do you care? It’s not like
