Wesley swings the door open, a glass of tequila clutched in his hand.
His dark long hair is shaggy and his blue eyes are drowsy. With his hands shoved in his grey sweatpants, he ushers me into the glass house. He has a huge happy smile on his face. He always has a huge happy smile when his wife is not around.
Wesley is my best friend.
I met him at the restaurant three years ago. He and his wife were new in town. They wanted someone to show them around. That's how our friendship brewed and we've been tight since. He's like the brother I never had.
He and I have this thing where we pick a spot and whine about our wives. We call it wife-whining. The activity is done with some wine or tequila. Wine when it's a small problem. Tequila when it's a serious problem. I have a serious problem. M
