“Brussels sprouts? Dammit.” “You don’t like brussels sprouts?” “No. The last two times you put them on my plate, I’ve hidden them under a scoop of mashed potatoes to make you think I ate them.” “Oh my god.” I sit up and look down at him. He’s grinning at me, a lazy, unhurried beam that hits behind my ribs. “You sneaky little asshole. Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because you and Lucy like them. I fake it so you can still eat them.” “We can have them when you’re not here, knucklehead.” I grab a pillow and hit him on the side of the head. “My job is to make sure you’re eating a balanced meal, and I
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