Summer garden parties are the worst, with or without breakups.

Dread consumed my entire morning, and now that I've arrived, I'm still sitting in my car trying to work up the nerve to go in. It's my fault for giving into my parent's desires and dating Lenny. Never again will I agree to date anyone related to anyone remotely connected to my inner circle.

I mean, Heath is my inner circle, but a contractually obligated sex schedule is as far from dating as you can get.

A day after my dick appointment with him and I still smile when I think about it. The sex was good. So, so good. It was the kind that makes your head spin and your brain turn to mush.

As nervous as I was to do it, Heath gave me a reminder of what Lenny could never do for me. I needed a little proof that I made the right decision. Especially before this.

I pull my finger from my mouth. There is a spot of blood on my cuticle left by my nervous chewing. Damn dirty habits.

Finally, I climb out of my car into the glaring sun. New York is hot as hell in the summer, and that doesn't include the humidity. The heat today is oppressive. The threat of a distant cloud gives me hope that I won't be a sweaty mess by the end of this.

My parent's house looks like it could fit on a college campus. A two-story brick behemoth with a stereotypical winged layout, white-framed windows, dormers, and an interior clad floor to ceiling with mahogany. All it's missing are columns and Greek letters on the front.

In the backyard, fifty or so people mingle on the concrete patio, each group doing their best impression of a Ralph Lauren summer collection advertisement while holding glasses of a wine and taking shade beneath the story-tall manicured Italian Cypresses. I walk up to the gate and take a deep breath. To my undeserved luck, I only take a step inside before I find my two loves. I wave to my brothers and smiles of relief light up their faces.

Levi wheels his chair over with excitement, Rowan walking after him. I lean down and squeeze Levi into a hug. He returns it with equal fervor. "Finally, you're here," he says into my shoulder.

I pull away and press a kiss to his cheek, then reach out for Rowan. I wrap my arms around his narrow waist, stretching up to kiss his cheek as well. The six-foot-three, timid baby of the family.

No one sees a Black woman with two Asian men and thinks "siblings" first, but I'm the luckiest person alive to have brothers like them.

"How's the party going?" I ask.

"It's great," Levi says with as much sarcasm as humanly possible. He has his hair slicked back into a folded-over bun. His wrinkled, white oxford is lacking the customary tie and jacket Rowan has on. He wants to be here about as much as I do. "Mom and dad have asked where you are, like, five million times. They want to show you off to all their associates."

I close my eyes with a sigh. "How drunk do you think I can get before then?" I look over and find both of my parents waving us over as if they were saving us seats at a concert. "Not drunk enough, I see."

We go over to them and I cling to Rowan's arm for support. "Teagan, there you are," Dad greets me. Confusion stitches his brow behind the thin wire frames of his glasses. The tilt of his mouth shows his disapproval. "I thought you'd arrive with Lenny."

"No, um . . ." I stop when Mom walks over, placing her hand against Dad's back. The way she looks at me makes me afraid to finish my statement.

Her smile is wide and bright, her glasses a different shape than Dad's, but still the same wire frames that match their hippie-turned-professor aesthetic. I heard someone say that couples start to look like each other the longer they are together, and that is definitely true for them. Their faces and waistlines are a little rounder, their medium brown hair graying with age. They may be older than the average parent, beginning their mid-sixties when I am the oldest at twenty-three, but that is not where our disconnect comes from.

"We decided to come separately," I cover, finding a bit of enjoyment in my double entendre.

She gives me a look of confusion before an unfamiliar woman walks over and claims her attention. "Cheryl, I just wanted to say congratulations to you and your husband. Thirty years in business is a huge achievement!"

"Thank you," my mother coos, much like she will the rest of the night. "We're still having a blast, but we are excited about the future." She pulls me tighter against her side.

"You must be the famous Teagan," the woman says to me. I wonder if I'm famous because Dad has a fondness for hyperbole or because I'm one of the few brown faces invited to their parties. She looks at my brothers and says, "And you must be . . ." her eyes drop to Levi's chair. "Levi and Rowan," she points between them as if it's an accomplishment to get it right.

Most people use Levi's disability as a point of discernment between him and Rowan—something that has always, always infuriated me. But, our family's diversity often overwhelms people.

After going through the struggle of adopting me from Ethiopia, my parents pretended the process was too hard to go through again. But that all changed when they saw Levi.

I was four when my parents went to the Philippines to meet him. Two years old, and so small. He stayed that way until his random growth spurt in seventh grade, then the accident in his freshman year of high school left him without the use of his legs. He never let that stop his athleticism or stifle his brash personality.

I was six when Mom and Dad found Rowan. The four of us flew to Laos to meet him. He was still a baby—the first time I had been around one. I spent so much of my time staring at him, holding him, monitoring his development as if he were my baby. That hasn't changed much either, even though he's nearly eighteen. I will always be protective of him.

Back before the Jolie-Pitts, and before most were aware of how unethical transnational adoption can be, it was something they had always planned to do. They wanted to share their abundance of wealth and privilege with children who had none. The problem is that, while wealth can be shared, not all privileges can.

"Your mother tells me you're top of your class at Columbia Law," the woman continues.

I open my mouth to answer, but my mother speaks for me. "Yes, she has always been a wonderful student. Valedictorian of her pre-law class, perfect LSAT score, and we expect the same for her upcoming Bar." She gives me a little shake. "We couldn't be prouder to have her starting at the firm soon."

"That's lovely. So rare to see true family businesses nowadays."

It's rare because it should be categorized as a form of torture.

I look over and find Rowan fidgeting with discomfort. He's too shy to mingle. "I'm going to grab a drink. Can I get you anything, Mom?" I ask her. She shakes her head before continuing her conversation. I gesture to Levi and Rowan. They happily leave with me for the safety of being literally anywhere else.

Weaving through the white- and khaki-clad sea of affluence, we escape to a less populated area at the other end of the garden. I grab two glasses of champagne from the bar and hand one to Levi.

"Where's mine?" Rowan asks.

"Three years in the future," I quip before taking a drink. Its smooth taste slides easily down my throat, cooling me down and soothing me with the knowledge that the alcohol will kick in soon. I drain half the glass then sigh.

"This party is ass," Levi says what we're both thinking. "I need some drama. Are you going to tell Mom and Dad that you broke up with Lenny?" I shoot him a look.

"You broke up?" Rowan asks. "Why?"

Levi and I have no filter with each other, but Rowan is different. I search for the most appropriate words. "He wouldn't ... He couldn't ... Uh ..."

"He couldn't give her an orgasm," Levi finishes for me. I bat a hand against his arm.

"I'm not a baby anymore. I'm seventeen," Rowan reminds me. "I know all about sex and stuff."

"You do?" Levi and I ask at the same time.

"Yes," Rowan says with a pout.

Levi and I exchange a knowing glance and take a slow sip. "Oh, shit, is that him?" Levi points through the gate.

My jaw drops when Lenny climbs out of his Maserati. He adjusts the lapels of his tan blazer and then holds out his hand. A woman I have never seen before runs over and takes it like a well-trained puppy. Her curled balayage hangs to the middle of her back while her white mini dress barely covers her ass.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I say to myself. I hide behind Rowan as they walk into the party.

"Mom and Dad are going to have so many questions," Levi snickers.

"Shut up, I know."

Lenny and his date make their way through the crowd in the direction of our parents. I gnaw on the edge of my glass, wishing it was my finger instead.

"Chill, Teags," Levi says. "It won't be that bad."

I laugh. Through the crowd, I watch them turn their heads toward me and glare. 

"Sure it won't," I say back.

. . .

"You broke up?" my father asks me for the ninth time. Our post-party family dinner can't pass by quickly enough.

Mom keeps us pinned in the dining room just off the veranda, the caterers still in view while they finish the cleanup. She keeps herself busy packing away whatever leftover hors d'oeuvres she thinks will keep, while the only thing on Dad's mind is the one thing I wish wouldn't be on mine.

Sitting directly across the table from him, there's no escape from the intensity of his gaze or his line of questioning. In the case of Teagan's Orgasms v. Lenny Masters, my dad is the prosecutor and I am getting badgered on the stand.

"Yes," I answer again.

"You broke up with him or he broke up with you?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does."

I push the celery through the glob of hummus on my plate, chewing on my finger rather than the actual food in front of me. I sip the last of my wine as quickly as I can without someone making a comment.

It is hard to remember times when my life wasn't dissected at every meal. But with Levi and Rowan living at home while I'm away in the city all week, there are few topics as exciting to them as my romantic misadventures. If only they knew what I was up to now.

Heath texted me this morning to give me notice for tonight. I left him on read, even though I knew today would be a shitshow. I peek at the message again to give myself some encouragement.

As much as he drives me crazy, Heath is my saving grace right now. He ruined me in the best possible way. The idea of sex every week? Chef's kiss. Great sex every week? A masterpiece—a smash-terpiece, if you will. The penis de résistance.

Ugh. I'm so desperate, I'm starting to sound like him. The promise of sex is barely enough to keep me hanging on, but at least it's something.

I gnaw on my fingernail while Mom uncorks the second bottle of wine. She has nothing to add, no disagreement with anything Dad says. Levi is busy shoveling his food down like the athlete he is, and Rowan sits with his face in a book at the end of the table. My finger is bleeding by the time I pour my third glass, hoping they won't notice.

"I can't believe it. He is my partner's son. The future of our firm, just like you, Teagan. You couldn't dream up a better situation. I don't understand why you would break up," my father laments. "What was wrong with him?"

Levi snorts with laughter next to me and I shoot him a glare. "It just didn't work out, Dad," I say.

"How? He couldn't have been more right for you."

Right for me? Or right for the picture of me he has in his mind? "I don't know, Dad. If I knew that, I would fix it."

There is no arguing with an attorney who believes they're correct. I stare down at my plate and gnaw on my finger once more.

"Give her a break, Dad. She's allowed to choose who she wants to be with," Levi defends me. "You can't force her into some kind of arranged marriage. She didn't like the dude. Simple as that."

"It isn't as simple as that, Levi. It's a matter of the future of our firm and your sister's future endeavors. If the partners can't get along, there is no firm."

"Oh my god, Dad. Stop being so dramatic. She can still get along with the guy and not marry him."

"Judging from how they behaved at the party, I find it hard to believe she can." He turns his focus to me again. "You need to patch things up with him."

His wide-eyed scowl tells me that is not a question, and it is not a time to argue. "I will."

"Immediately."

"I will!"

He leaves the table to cool off and help Mom. With my stomach turning, I pick up my phone and send the text I've been sitting on all day.

It's only 6 but I don't know if I can wait much longer. Maybe I don't have to.

The typing bubble appears right after. I watch the dots dance while holding my breath.

_____

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