Eli: Good one!
Verity: It was actually pathetically easy. I would’ve thought a Navy SEAL would’ve had a harder password for his phone and not his son’s birthday
Silas: Change. It. Back.
Verity: I will.
Verity: The next time you come home.
Verity: Until then, this will give you a chance to practice using other words. Expand your vocabulary a bit.
Verity: Now, back to appreciating your service for our country, which we do. But that doesn’t mean you get to use your job as an excuse to act like a recluse. Or worse, like you’re not even a member of this family anymore.
Eli: I think the adjective you meant to use was asshole.
Silas: Watch it. Miles isn’t the only one who can kick someone’s ass
Eli: oohh Guess I’d better hide behind my piles of money so you don’t find me
Eli:
Silas: That right smartass?
Silas: Heard you got the yips.
Eli: IT’S CALLED A SLUMP!
Urban: HE DOESN’T HAVE THE YIPS!
Verity: I never said that and if Ian said I did, he’s a liar!
Toby: Nice. He’s seven.
Verity: Exactly. He’s young and cute. Those two things will protect him.
Willow: I love your family group chat.
Urban: You’re only saying that because you and Sarah are the only ones in yours who aren’t either a psychiatrist or attorney.
Willow: Exactly. We’re surrounded by two of each. Not only is every text psychoanalyzed and each detail of those texts discussed, but there’s no winning any argument. Ever.
Urban: There’s no winning with this lot either.
Eli: Can we get back to my original question?
Eli: Who’s Miles’s girlfriend?
Miles: She’s not my girlfriend.
He hesitated, his thumbs hovering over the letters.
He was going to regret this.
His new motto in life it seemed.
Miles: But she used to be.
There was yet another thirty seconds of peace where, if he had to guess, the people who were at Urban’s house—Urban, Willow, Toby and Verity—were exchanging smartass comments and pointed looks.