Reaching out, I patted Miles companionably on the shoulder. “Let’s be clear,” I told him, trying to match his air of casual mateyness. “I’m glad you’re happy. You and JoJo seem like you’ll be great together. But we are never going to be friends because you will always be the guy who sold me out for the price of a Toyota Supra.” Then I leaned in, kissed him on his beardy cheek, turned around, and left the wedding.
