How many girls have you slept with?” “Angeline! Jesus Christ.” I jabbed her again. She ripped the fork from my hand beneath the table. “Honestly.” My mom threw up her hands. “Baby girl,” my dad warned. “What’s a good answer to that question?” Seth asked my sister. Angie used my fork to take a bite of her peach cobbler and considered. “How old are you?” “Twenty-nine,” Seth said. “Ever been married?” “No.” “Five,” my sister said. “Five’s a good answer. Not so many that you sound like a slut, but not so few you sound like a loser.” “Five it is, then,” Seth said.
