Conversation has devolved into exclamations of how good all the food was and groans about how our stomachs are about to explode. “Can I see your childhood bedroom?” Declan asks. He’s relaxed considerably since he first arrived. “Want to examine my Barbies?” But I stand and reach out for his hand, leading him up the stairs. Jeffrey and Tyler are in the backyard shrieking and chasing Amy with little toy guns, shooting foam bullets at her. They miss every single time. Dad has actually undone his belt and the top button of his khakis, and rests in a lounge chair like Al Bundy, one hand tucked in his waistband. Mom’s in the kitchen fussing over the leftovers. There’s enough food to feed an army. “My room isn’t anything special,” I explain as we walk up the carpeted stairs. When Amy turned sixteen Mom finally got her wish—cream carpet—and even now, more than five years later, it feels weird to me. I went away to college and the house had industrial green, flat carpet and came home to a Better Homes and Gardens spread.
What do You think about Shopping For A Billionaire 3?
