“Riggs Sebastian Valentine, please tell me you aren’t clipping your nails at the table in the presence of a lady!” my mom yells, practically blowing out my eardrum. The woman is a saint, but if she knows we’re doing something we shouldn’t be, she’s the first to call us out. “I’m not,” I deadpan. “I’m doing it in the presence of Monroe.” The wretched creature beside me chokes on a gasp and I look up to see her jaw practically hitting the floor. Even though I’m getting yelled at by my mother, who can still manage to make me feel like a child from a thousand miles away, the shock on my fake
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