“You’re not invited to Christmas this year,” my dad sn3pped. “Fine,” I replied, quietly transferring the $8,000 holiday fund I sent him back into my account and canceling the chalet reservation in his name. By morning, I had 31 missed calls — and one message that made me laugh out loud. – Welcome

a party.”

“You have more than five extra-large pizzas.”

“It’s a goodbye thing.”

“For who?”

Noah looked toward the stairs.

“Eli.”

I knew the name immediately.

Eli had been Noah’s best friend since they were eight.

The boys had practically grown up together.

I hadn’t seen much of him lately because his mother had been seriously ill.

She had spent months going continue reading …