“Fine, we will stay at mine then. You can bring your rabbit food and leave me to my refrigerator of cold pizza, takeout, and junk food.” I sigh and bury my face on top of my outstretched arms, ignoring his attempts to get me upright, closing my eyes in a bid to sleep on the table. I feel like hell, and now I wish I didn’t spend copious hours playing tonsil tennis with one very practiced Carrero and slept more.

“You do realize this is me you’re talking to? I will clean out ...