“Then he cuts off my allowance.” “Are you—” “Fucking with you? Yes.” She shrugs. “If I’m busy, I don’t go. If I’m not busy, I go. He doesn’t ask much of me, and I love hockey and cute boys, so it’s not exactly a hardship on my part.” “Good point.” Her phone buzzes again—this time from the text she’s just sent from mine. “There. We’re in each other’s phones. We’ll start planning the wedding next week.” I snicker.
