“Gin, touch my husband, and I will personally cart you to the hospital,” Benito said. He looked between the three of us. “You know I could hear all of you the entire time, right?” “Dude, you’re walking around eating cookie dough from the roll like it’s a summer sausage. Someone’s gotta say something,” Giancarlo said. I nodded. It was getting out of hand. “Honestly, I’d rather you came home drunk at this point. This shit is… terrifying. Me. I’m terrified.”
