“How’d she get the black eye?” Mace, the thirty-one-year-old yenta, looked around the kitchen island at Sebastian, Garrett, and I, like one of us had done it.

“Her sperm donor did it.”

“Is he dead?”

“Not yet.”

I guess that wasn’t good enough because he slammed the cleaver down on the cutting board. I ignored him; of course, I’m used to his theatrics, but the other two likes to egg him on. He had a lot to say about me going soft among some other ...