“Well maybe if you’d kept your eyes on the dance floor and your nose out of your glass, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” I say coolly. “Oh, darling, my eyes were on the dance floor,” he says casually. “They were on you dancing with my brother.” Then he huffs out a laugh, craning his neck to shake his head at the canopy of leaves above us. “Why do you think I’ve been drinking?”
