Page 20 of My Rules

We walk in to find her in her apron, bent over and peering into her oven. “This damn oven is acting up.”

“Let’s get the party started, people,” Taryn laughs as she walks through the door. She’s in a skintight hot-pink tube dress and carrying a huge-ass cooler.

How does she look so hot in everything she wears? “What the hell is in there?” I frown.

“Party punch. Here, help me,” she replies.

I take one end of the cooler from her, and we struggle into the kitchen. “This thing weighs a ton.”

“Put it down in here.”

Clunk. We drop it with a thud, and she opens the lid to pull out a giant glass punch bowl and ladle. “I make the best party punch in the history of life.” She pulls out a few two-liter bottles of an orange liquid and begins to fill the punch bowl.

“If you do say so yourself.” I laugh.

“Exactly.” Once the punch bowl is full, she pours in a container of chopped-up fruit. “Get a glass,” she instructs me.

“In here, dear.” Carol opens the top cupboard and retrieves some tall glasses. “A big punch bowl deserves big glasses.” She passes me one, and Taryn fills it to the very top.

Yeesh ... that’s a lot of punch.

I take a slow sip. It’s orangey and lemony, and wow, I’m pleasantly surprised. I lick my lips to really taste it. “This is delicious, Taryn. Doesn’t even taste alcoholic.”

“I told you so.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Who else wants one?” she calls.

“Me, please.” Chloe holds out her glass. Taryn fills it and one for herself, then Carol too.

Loud, boisterous laughter comes bellowing through the front door as the boys arrive.

“Hello, my boys.” Carol kisses their cheeks as they walk in.

“Here she is, my favorite.” Blake smiles as he hugs her.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She smiles and holds his two cheeks in her hands as she stares up at his face. Henley and Antony follow behind, along with Winston.

Antony and Winston are overly boisterous; their cheeks are rosy, and it’s obvious they’ve already had a few too many beverages.

“I made us punch,” Taryn announces proudly. “Do you want some?”

Henley picks up a glass. “Sure do.”

Three hours later

We clap fast as we sing “Happy Birthday” at the top of our voices. Winston jumps up onto the couch and rips off his T-shirt, twirling it around like a lasso above his head as we all squeal in excitement.

My stomach is sore from laughing; this was just what I needed.

Such a fun night.

Eating, dancing, good friends, laughter, and I’ve come to a conclusion: there’s no way in hell that I can ever move out of this street.

I don’t know how, but I’m going to find a way to afford it ... I have to.

Blake

Boom, boom, boom.

The pounding of my head wakes me, and I bring my two hands to my forehead to try and get some relief.

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