The awkward tension in the wake of their exit lasts all of five seconds before Addie puts her phone down and announces, "That was better than any reality TV show I've ever seen."
"Adeline," Sarah warns, but I catch the smile she's fighting.
Emily's laugh bubbles up, breaking the tension like a balloon popping. "Damn, Ethen sure knows how to kill a nice dinner. Does he practice being an ass, or does it just come naturally?"
"Emily," Mom scolds, but there's no heat in it. She looks almost relieved, as if Emily has given voice to what everyone's thinking.
Mrs. Harper reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. Her eyes are filled with genuine regret. "Charlie, I am so sorry. That was completely unacceptable behavior. I don't know what's gotten into him lately."
"It's really okay," I assure her, though we both know it's not. "It's not your fault."
"Still," she sighs, "I thought I raised him better than that."
Bash settles back into his chair beside me, his leg pressing reassuringly against mine. I turn to him, suddenly exhausted by the whole evening. The wine buzz has faded, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that makes my outfit feel too tight.
"I think I'm ready to head back to the house," I say quietly.
He nods, obviously hearing the exhaustion in my voice. "Of course. Let me settle the bill—"
"Already taken care of," Dad interjects.
Emily drains the last of her wine. "I was thinking of checking out that nightclub on 43rd Street. It has an ice bar! Does anyone want to join? Might help wash away the taste of Ethan's tantrum."
I shake my head. "Not tonight, Em. I just want to curl up somewhere quiet."
"Boring," she teases, but her smile is gentle. "Rain check?"
"Definitely."
Addie perks up, setting her phone down. "A nightclub? I'm in."
"Absolutely not," Sarah and Bash respond in perfect unison.
I watch with amusement as Addie launches into a detailed argument about why she should be allowed to join Emily at the nightclub. Her logic involves comparative European drinking ages, the fact that she wouldn't actually drink, and how she's "practically an adult" at sixteen.
"I just want to photograph the ice sculptures," she insists, gesturing with her phone. "It's for my portfolio."
Bash crosses his arms. "Nice try. You're staying with the adults."
"You're killing my artistic development," Addie grumbles.
"I'll live with that burden," he replies, completely unmoved.
Sarah sighs. "She tried this in Vail last year. Ended up sneaking out with some ski instructor's son."
"I was fifteen then mom," Addie continues to argue. "I've matured exponentially since."
"Clearly," Bash deadpans, and I have to hide my smile behind my napkin.
"Yes and now you’re sixteen and the drinking age here in America is still twenty-one, last I checked." Sarah states
Addie visibly deflates in her seat, knowing that neither her mom nor Bash are budging on the decision.
Sarah's expression softens. "How about we hit that chocolate café tomorrow instead? The one with the funny-named hot chocolate flavors?"
Addie lets out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But I'm getting the one with the extra whipped creamandthe chocolate-dipped marshmallows."
"Deal," Sarah agrees. She glances at Bash and me. "Mind if we ride back with you two?"
