“Hi!” Rosie says brightly, holding up a bottle of wine. “I brought booze! I know it’s a Monday, but, as they say, it’s Friday somewhere.” Ford rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss the way his lips twitch. “That’s not possible, Rosie. The saying is—” “Whatever. Come on, buzzkill. This will be like sports with a bit of drama. Almost literary in nature. You’ll love it.” She yanks him by the hand, winking at me as she passes, and I can’t help but laugh.
