When I finally reach our table, I’m not surprised to be on the end of exasperated looks from both of my parents. When I get to Devon and Emma, though, the thunderous glare Devon sends my way seems slightly uncalled for. Sure, I’m a half hour late. And, yes, I’m in jeans and a leather jacket—not the dressy attire everyone else at the table has donned for the evening. But, come on, it’s not like I just forced him to watch while I tortured his cat to death or something.
