Tad is, apparently, a changed man.

My fears about his grill skills stem from a long history of him fucking up perfectly good barbecues with subpar cooking. But tonight, Tad is on his game. It’s like I never left the grill.

I poke one of the racks of ribs lightly with the fork—it’s perfect. The brisket’s finally close to finished, and the black bean burgers and grilled veggies are already prepared and laid out next to the grill.

Don’t laugh at the black bean burgers. They’re fucking awesome, and I know that it’s not just vegans who are greedily scooping them up.

I want to give Tad props for doing a decent job for once, but I can’t stop glancing over at Miranda—and Emily. They’re both way over by the fence, and it looks like they’re chatting and laughing it up like old friends.

Seriously?

Em’s the main reason—the only reason—that I’m making this whole thing happen.

Now almost everyone I know in town is here—drinking my booze, eating my food, and having the best time of their lives—but none of it matters because fucking Miranda had to show up and circle in on Emily. It renders this whole thing pointless.

“Why?” I’m trying not yell as I poke the brisket for no reason. I can feel Tad standing behind me, watching me and still expecting some congratulations.

“Why w-what?”

I can tell by the way Tad stammers that he realizes what I’m talking about. I’m still willing to answer the question, though. I crane my head around to look Tad straight in the eye.

“Why is she here? Did you invite her?”

I see the wheels spinning in Tad’s head. I don’t think he even remembers inviting everyone here. It’s probably a mistake on Tad’s part—it’s not like he did this on purpose—but I still need some fucking answers.

“I didn’t invite her. I didn’t even call. She must’ve gotten wind of it, because…”

Tad trails off, and I hear him swallow nervously. I turn around to face him completely.

“Just tell me what happened, Tad. I know you didn’t do this on purpose.”

Tad takes a sharp breath, mustering the courage to fess up the true story.

“She shows up at the gym. I’m just sitting there, ringside, calling some people to invite them—not her, of course—and out of nowhere, she’s just there, standing over me. She’s tuned into that’s happening, I guess. I’m sorry.”

Nothing about this surprises me much. I glance over to the fence and at the table with all the hard liquor. Emily and Miranda are still buddy-buddy.

I turn to Tad and try to stay measured, and not too angry, as I extract more details.

“So instead of just showing up here, she goes to you? Because then it’s sanctioned, because then you invited her. Right?”

Tad’s meeting my gaze. I’ll give him credit for having guts, because I’m borderline furious and not hiding it well.

“She’s standing there, listening to me talk to Gary about it. I try to get off the phone as soon as I can. Then she asks what time it starts—the barbecue. Kirk, I don’t even answer, but she still just fuckin’ says ‘okay’ as if I invited her, and then she’s all ‘See you there.’ She invited herself and pretended it was me.”

I set the barbecue fork down next to the grill. I step in a little closer to Tad, and I lower my voice.

“You know she’s an alcoholic.”

Tad looks down at his shoes.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Look, I hope Miranda gets whatever help she needs, I don’t blame her for her problems…but she’s really fucking problematic right now. You know how toxic she can be. She shouldn’t be at this party, not with all the alcohol here, not with Emily here, and not with me here. You know that’s the only reason she’s here, right?”

Tad’s still looking down. He can’t do shit about it now, of course. I pat him on the shoulder.

“Just…never again, okay? I need you to realize how bad it can get. But, hey, good job with the gri—”

Emily’s laugh, really loud and high, pierces through everything. I have to stop myself from jumping. What the fuck is going on now?

I turn toward the sound. What I really hope to see is Emily having a good time with Miranda nowhere in sight. If Miranda has to be here, can’t she at least leave Emily alone?

No such luck.

Of-fucking-course, Miranda is still standing right next to Emily, clutching a cup full of straight whiskey.

A half dozen of my friends are gathered around Emily. They’re all enraptured by her, just listening to her talk. Miranda’s not looking at her, though. She’s looking over at me.

She’s staring, and probably not for the first time today. Something Emily says causes almost the entire group to fall over themselves with laughter.

Miranda doesn’t laugh, though. She’s barely smiling. She just sips her drink, and she switches from looking at me to looking back at Emily.

Em says something else and starts cracking up hysterically, her face turning beet red. It looks like she’s still making everyone else in the group laugh as well.

I notice that Tad’s also checking out Emily’s comedy routine. He turns to me with a wide-eyed expression that says, “Hey, it’s not so bad after all.”

I shake my head. I don’t know if he’s right or wrong yet.

Anyone who spends a lot of time with Miranda ends up meeting a few different versions of her. The Miranda who’s at the barbecue right now—the version who always has a drink in her hand—brings out the cynic in me.

I want Emily to enjoy herself no matter what, but Miranda hovering next to her does not bode well.

I turn my attention back to the ribs and brisket. Emily’s laughter explodes through the air yet again.

“Emily’s really popular tonight,” I hear Tad proclaim behind me. “She’s making a lot of new friends, at any rate.”

“You know what they say, Tad,” I mutter down at the grill. “With friends like those…you know the rest.”