“We don’t undercut shit,” Farrow says quietly, almost under his breath. “We know what we mean to each other, and that’s all that’s ever mattered. This is the first time it’s ever been a point of contention with anyone.” “I would’ve liked to know,” my dad says just as quietly. “It would’ve meant something to me.” “We didn’t grow up together,” Farrow reminds him. “Neither did me and my brother. I met Ryke the day I turned twenty-one.”
