“In the future, if you feel you can’t control yourself and the need to insult me is too overwhelming, we’ll deal with it privately,” I suggested, exhaling smoke toward the moon. “Me?” She turned and looked up at me. “You didn’t even make it through your first taco tonight before cracking like an egg.” “Yes, well. It’s over now.” I both loved and hated it when I had her undivided attention. I forced myself to look away from her. “From now on, to me you’ll just be the vaguely racist, misogynistic, hard of hearing uncle everyone avoids engaging with at Thanksgiving.” “And you are nothing more
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