Zachary chuckles, leans over the counter, and snatches another bottle of whiskey. He flicks it open and pours himself a generous amount once again. Does he plan to get wasted or what? He replies, his tone stone-cold yet hot in its intensity, “I’m not the ex-husband who left her and then got engaged to my sister. How is she by the way? Does she know you came here the minute your ex got out of prison? I bet Felicia would love to hear that.” The way he says it, though, implies differently.
