Leaning against the railing, without giving it any thought, I pull her in closer and we both turn to face the sliding glass window, toward the scene unfolding inside the house. Stephan and Weston yell at each other in the middle of the living room floor, fingers pointed in each other faces, chests posturing. Molly’s in on the action, arms flapping up and down and she’s yelling, too. Cubby, clearly entertained, sits on the couch in the seats we just abandoned, stuffing his face with more chips. It looks like he’s watching a movie. “What just happened?” Abby asks softly, her back pressing into my front, the loose strands from her braid blowing in the slight breeze. “Truthfully? This kind of thing always happens.” “Why would Stephan pick a fight with Weston if he’s mad at his girlfriend? I don’t get it.” I consider this. “Because he needs someone to blame for his problems?
