Henry applauded. “Well done, Bailey. You spent your life trying to be me. You’re a pale imitation. Fuck you, little sister. Sorry, I forgot, that’s Griffin’s job.”

Anger got the best of me. “Fuck you, Henry. Not only are you a drunk—you’re mean.”

My father rose. His imposing frame divided his two children. He nodded at me. Hank Edgeworth had always been a man of a few words, and today that served him well. He landed some powerful blows. “Your behavior has made you a disappointment as a son. Unless you get cleaned up, you are no longer welcome in my house.” He sat down. I noticed how Daddy’s disappointment had sliced through the enormous pride he had always felt for my brother. His voice trembled. His hands shook. That’s when I finally understood what this had done to my father.

Griffin spoke last. He spoke the longest, and his words were the most eloquent. You could tell his past had found him and was repeating itself in his best friend. It was gut-wrenching to watch him destroy Henry.

“If you don’t get your act together, we’re done. As friends. As partners. As brothers. I can’t believe you would do this to me knowing my history.” It devolved from there. Daddy announced he was taking Henry to a rehab across town. I announced that I was spending the night at Griffin’s. My declaration garnered not even one raised eyebrow. It was the first time I had said anything about being with Griffin. It was ironic, though, because it would be the first time we would be together and not sleep together. There is no such thing as intervention sex. I felt trapped between my love for Henry and my loyalty to Griffin, sprinkled with a dusting of guilt over the toll this might take on Daddy.

An intervention must rank as Dante’s tenth circle of hell, right after treachery. It was awful. Griffin and I went through their apartment, cleaning. Henry had hidden scotch bottles in his nice shoe pouches in his closet. Seeing my brothers substance abuse was a horrible thing to discover. I felt sucker-punched and exhausted. I was also hyped up on adrenaline. Griffin fixed an omelet with mushrooms and cheese and put it on a plate between us. We ate it Lady and the Tramp style.

“Are we going to be okay? You and me and Henry?” The day had left me so uncertain.

Griffin chewed a mushroom slowly. His deliberateness alone scared me. “I hope so. Take your work. You tear things down only to transform them into something truly extraordinary. I have to believe that is also true with people. I’m sorry you took the brunt of Henry’s anger.”

“It’s fine. I’m twenty-five years old.”

“But you were right. We do make a good team. The three of us. I have to believe we’re better together. You could move back home.”

“My career and my life are in New York. I still need to establish my reputation.” The unintended heaviness of this conversation coupled with the events of the day wore us both out.