Harry’s smirk moved onto his face like something he had been holding in reserve.

“Good. About that beer.”

“I’ll pack.”

The smirk died.

Tiffany’s mouth opened. Harry stared at me. Neither of them said a word because neither of them had prepared for this response. I had always come back around. I had always absorbed the thing and found a way to continue. That was the only version of me they knew.