“I’m better than you fucking look.” He raises his glass in bitter cheers. When he takes a sip from the empty glass, he mumbles, “Jesus Christ.” “This is yours.” Connor appears next to Lo with a full glass of ice water. My brother sets his empty one on a passing tray. “Appreciated, love.” Lo takes a sip. Of course he didn’t offer me a fucking glass. I don’t expect Connor to give me anything other than a hard time.
