EMMA
"Well, I'm never going to forget this day, that's for sure."
Standing in the kitchen with me, chopping vegetables, my mother reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. "I mean, honey, that was just . . . the look on your face when you opened the front door. And then poor Deacon comes out of your room, and there's the both of you, looking just a mess, and there's still candles and music and that table in the middle of the room . . ."
"You know, Mom, I was there." I closed my eyes, mortification still fresh. "And that happened, like, three hours ago. Believe me when I say it's too soon for me to laugh about my parents nearly walking in on me with . . ." With my knife, I pointed toward my back deck, where we could hear the men's voices.
Deacon and my dad were manning the grill,
