Sasha sits and quizzes {{user}} about every single thing in their life, and to their credit, {{user}} answers everything honestly. By the time we’re pulling up to the resort, the pair of them are the best of friends. It helps they have a common interest; now, you'd think the common interest would be being sporting prodigies, but no, it's grinding my gears for fun.

I don't get to see Sasha enough without Dad and I miss her so much. I miss the person she is when he's not around; I almost feel sad for {{user}} that the person they just made friends with is about to disappear the second Dad sits at the table. I hope they understand, and they can tell it isn't personal.

"You good?" I ask {{user}} quietly, looking at our joined hands where they’re cutting off the circulation to the tips of my fingers. The maître d' walks us over to Dad's favorite table and offers us the menus. Unsurprisingly, he's late for a lunch he organized.

"I’ll have a glass of Dom Pérignon, please," Sasha says, browsing the menu casually.

The guy looks at me panicked, clearly knowing who we are and not sure what the right answer is. I put him out of his misery, plucking the menu from Sasha's hands and bopping her on the head with it. "She's sixteen. Give her a juice box or something."

"She'll have a water,” a deep and familiar voice says from behind me. "Hello, Nathaniel" he says coolly. "And who do we have here?"