“Are we going to talk about the other night?” Dave said. “God, yes, please. Sorry I didn’t text. The dads had me spit-shine the whole house, which I probably deserved. Also, sorry about our fight. I guess I was a little drunk. I remember you telling me about Gretchen and that’s about it. Was I a bitch about it?” Dave smiled in that cute, sheepish way he often did and shrugged. “Maybe a little bit.” “Well, that sucks.” Julia stepped out of her shoes, feeling the comfort of the floor on her bare feet. “Whatever I said, I’m sorry I said it. Did you yell back at me?” “There was some yelling.”
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