“I can imagine she’s a handful.” “More than a handful. An armful.” He chuckles, then plucks a small finger sandwich off the platter and starts chomping on it. “Hmm. This is okay, I guess.” He takes another bite. “Okay, it’s good. It’s real good.” He tosses the rest of it into his mouth. “Fuck, I’m starving.” I smile and drum my fingers on the edge of the table, forming a restless rhythm that lasts all of seven and a half seconds, then stop and look up at Billy. “Do you think I should forgive him?”
