He nods, processing over everything she just revealed. “And how often have you seen him? Like out of ten.”
Right, this is just plain ridiculous. “You’re higher than a giraffe’s snatch,” I bark, unable to hold my tongue. “This isn’t a math class. Now can it and let’s talk important stuff.”
“Like…” he baits me, while I accept the challenge.
“Your bachelor party,” I expose, rubbing my hands together. Before he has time to object, I shush him. “Don’t even bother arguing, it’s happening, and you’re going to have fun, god damn you.” When he opens his mouth, to no doubt rain on my fun parade, I hold up my finger—the middle finger, that is. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder, because you know I will.” Keira giggles, the sound high-fiving my ego. “Just ’cause you’re getting married, that
