“Don’t swear,” I admonish as I make my bed, straightening the corners and smoothing the fabric. “What are you, ten? Damn is not swearing.” She collapses with a groan onto the teal chaise and picks up the book I’d been reading to examine the cover before tossing it back down on the cushion. “Now, if I’d said, ‘It’s about time you opened the fucking door,’ then I’d be swearing.” I toss a pillow at her, and she catches it with a cheeky grin. “You’re incorrigible.” “Yes, I know.” She throws the pillow back at me, and I set it at the head of my bed. “Did Mother send you to drag me out of my room,
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