Sloane gasps. “We’re not cousins!” Beau elbows his dad, playing off of him like he always does. “I think they might be doing more than kissing. Look how red she is.”

“Son, I’m going to tell you something that I’d only say to a man as good as you.” He pauses, eyes scanning my face. “In this instance, you’re being too respectful.”

Harvey: I’m not weird. You’re the one with a crush on your cousin. Jasper: She’s not my cousin. Harvey: Ha! But you didn’t deny the crush.

Harvey: No, you’re not. None of us are. But you know what will make you feel better? Jasper: What’s that? Harvey: Fixing my wall. There’s spackling and a putty knife outside your door.

The rest of the Eaton crew couldn’t make it into the city tonight, but I promised her I’d come. And for Sloane I keep every promise, no matter how badly they hurt.

“Something with two beds at least? How about a rollaway cot? I’m almost child sized.” She gestures down at herself.

“Sterling,” I wheeze out. “I will never marry you. Like . . .” A giggle hits me and I force it back down. This sentence is just so much more offensive to deliver while laughing. But I can’t even muster any fucks to give about that. “Ever.”

Little boys. That’s precisely what they are. After the last couple months spent in the presence of real men, I’m seeing the difference clearer than ever. It has nothing to do with money or education or a person’s public reputation. It has everything to do with what’s inside. Soul. Heart. Actions speaking louder than words.

Sterling: This is fucking bullshit. Get your ass back here and sign the paperwork so we can move on. Sterling: I’ll go to Grand Cayman by myself. Sloane: Take the stripper. She deserves a vacation after putting up with you for even one night.