“But remember,” Eliot says with a loving hand on the back of Tom’s head. “‘The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.’” Tom strums on his guitar just once, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Robert Burns.” Luna snaps her fingers like she’s in a coffeehouse. And I realize the three of them have their own thing. A cadence. A rhythm to their friendship. It makes me think of Farrow and Oscar. My friends. My smile softens as I down the rest of my whiskey. It’s cool being involved in her friend group.
