While Joe slowly lowers himself onto a chair, I prepare two sandwiches at the counter, then grab two beers from the fridge. “It’s noon,” he points out. “I need the liquid courage.” Just like that, his expression becomes more pained than usual. “Aw man, no. Is that it? Today’s the day?” I frown. “What day?” He scrubs one hand over his eyes, the other over his dark beard. “You’re gonna ask for my blessing. Aw hell. Just get it over with and ask, then. You really need to drag out the torture and make both of us uncomfortable? I’d rather be waterboarded. Goddamn it. We both know I’m going to say
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