I could tell by his sigh that he waz rolling his eyes.
“Jesus, Siz. I thought you said Sunday. Ever heard of calling ahead to confirm?”
“In my defense, bro, you don’t usually have company the next morning.”
Ivan stopped, rested a hand against the countertop, and rubbed his forehead.
Mish snapped her head toward me with wide eyes. “No offense. Crap. I think I’m jet-lagged. I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” I offered.
“Okay.” Ivan turned and handed her a cup of tea. “You drink this, replace your brain-to-mouth filter, then for the love of my sanity, and go to fucking bed. The spare room is made up for you. I’ll take you out for dinner tonight.”
“Okay.” Mish meekly took the tea. “Really, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, honestly.”
