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“Hey, Brooklyn. I see you made it to the A-list.”

Ali. I warn her with a glare.

“A, as in always invited,” Ali says. “And I come prepared for a party.” Ali lifts a box out of her trunk.

“Is that a box of booze?” Brooklyn asks me.

“Not just booze,” Ali tells her. “The best booze. Boozy booze.”

I laugh. “This is her excuse to buy strange bottles,” I explain.

“Hey! You’ve never complained about my selections,” Ali argues.

Fair. I haven’t. I enjoy sampling different spirits. That’s a penchant I share with Ali, Jeremy, and my brother-in-law. It’s the one time Jeremy and his father bond. They like to discuss various types of bourbon, whiskey, Scotch, vodka, gin, and rum they’ve discovered. Phillip and my sister are more interested in beer and wine. My mother doesn’t drink much. I think she believes it’s best if someone supervises. She’s probably right.

“What’s in there?” Ali gestures to the bag in Brooklyn’s hand.

“Nothing as interesting as what’s in your box,” Brooklyn says.

“Ah, my box is interesting,” Ali quips.

I shake my head. Only Ali.

“So, I’ve heard,” Brooklyn counters.

Ali wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh? Who’s been talking?”

“All right,” I tell my best friend. “This is a family affair.”

“Without children present,” Ali reminds me.

“Behave,” I tell her.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Can we go inside now?” Ali asks. “I’m dying to see what’s in Brooklyn’s bag.”

Brooklyn loops her arm around mine and winks at Ali. Oh, boy. I can see Ali attempting to hold back a comment. God help me when alcohol is introduced into this equation.

***

SIX HOURS LATER

“You’ve been holding out on us,” Ali tells Brooklyn.

“I like to play hard to get,” Brooklyn quips.

“Yeah, well now your secret is out of the bag. Literally,” Ali says.

Jeremy comments through a mouthful of cheesecake. “This is like the best cheesecake I’ve ever eaten.”

Brooklyn laughs. “It’s my one kitchen triumph,” she admits. “My gram taught me to make it.”

“Pretty sure you could master just about anything based on this,” I tell her.

“I think the alcohol might be lowering your standards,” Brooklyn replies.

I disagree. “Hardly,” I tell her. Brooklyn holds my gaze. I feel the room’s eyes on us and clear my throat. I retrieve my glass from the table beside me. “But I seem to have run dry.”

My sister follows me to the kitchen.