“No.” Sumner’s mother sniffs and draws me back into a hug. “You made my son’s favorite food, that’s all. It’s appreciated.” “That soup is a bitch to make,” points out Chrissy, looking impressed. “That’s like ten thousand brownie points,” says one of the husbands. “Respect.”
Aaaaaaaaand THIS is where I DNF..ew. Like come on people...
