Chapter 23
Nearly four hours later, traffic to blame for our lateness, Philip and I pulled into my mother’s driveway. He cut the engine and parked behind the monstrosity of a black Dodge Ram.
I looked at Philip and rolled my eyes. “Could only mean one thing.”
“Tiny d**k Marshall.”
I laughed and reached down in front of me for the grocery bags. “I hope we got enough fish for us. My sister and Marshall can eat the steaks.”
“Don’t go giving my meat away. One of those sirloins are mine,” Philip said, smirking, his face boyishly charming.
As we lumbered along the recently mowed yard to the front door, Adam and Carly Bellingham were out on their porch swing, drinking Coronas. “How’s it going?” Adam yelled, his voice slurred from too much alcohol.
Carly looked two sheets to the wind, wavin
