When Tara got safely home with sore feet and a guilty conscience, she pushed everything out of her mind so she could get more sleep to do away with her hangover. She didn’t want her brothers giving her a hard time for staying out late and getting so drunk. They had a cowbell they loved to ring around her head when she overdid it with the adult beverages.

She stripped out of her tight dress and the wretched undergarments, put on an oversized T-shirt—which reminded her of the feel of Seth’s shirt against her naked skin—and slid into bed. She closed her eyes with a sigh, and dreamt of the peaceful face of the sleeping man she’d left behind in a cozy hotel room.

Tara woke up for the second time that morning, the sun shining brightly into her room. To her great relief, the pain stabbing at her head didn’t feel like medieval torture anymore. Unfortunately, her mortification had only grown like one of those magic sponge animals that quadrupled in size in water. Her remorse at her reckless actions didn’t fit inside her mind, and her scalp felt stretched tightly around her head. She screamed into her pillow. It helped a little, so she did it again. Feeling marginally less likely to burst, she slowly swung her legs to the floor and stood.

No shooting pain in her temples. No dizziness. Yup. Her hangover was practically gone. Putting on her slippers, she dragged herself out to the kitchen to hydrate. Her mom had a giant jug of boricha—roasted barley tea—prepared in the fridge, and she gratefully poured out a tall glass and chugged it down.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jack said, strolling into the kitchen. “How late did you stay out last night? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Late,” she said vaguely, hoping her brother wouldn’t push it. Because oh, I came home a couple hours ago after having a sleepover with Seth was a conversation neither of them needed to have.

As sad as it sounded, she was a twenty-eight-year-old woman with an unspoken two A.M. curfew. She knew her parents only wanted to protect their little girl, but it was absurd to have a curfew at her age, especially since her brothers hadn’t had a curfew since they were in high school. She loved her parents dearly, but some of their old-fashioned views were getting … old.

Thankfully, Jack just shrugged and poured himself a glass of boricha, too. “I can’t believe Aubrey is really married. I mean, she’s been living with Landon for a few months now, and they have Morgan, but that wedding ceremony made everything feel so official.”

“I know,” Tara sighed, feeling the hollow ache in her heart again. Cut it out already. To cheer herself up, she decided to tease Jack. He was such an easy target. He blushed and fumbled so wonderfully. He really was a sweetheart. “You know Mom and Dad secretly hoped for you and Aubrey to get together for the longest time.”