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According to my mom and dad, a few days after they brought me home from the hospital, he told them they should take me back to where they’d found me—next to the garbage cans.
Turning his head, he smiled at me. “Thank you, beautiful. I’m good.” I melted into a small, very happy puddle on my mother’s favorite carpet. “Stop flirting with my sister, you shithead,” Dylan muttered,
“Don’t move. I’m trying to sleep.” “Oh, and what did it look like I was doing? Cartwheels?”
“Are you about to tell me that I should talk to Marcus and tell him that we are never getting back together?
