Emma The car was spinning. No, that was me. I groaned as I leaned forward. The car wouldn’t stop spinning. I could hear it laughing at me. It was taunting me, calling me a lightweight. Then I realized that wasn’t the car. It was my sister. She sat next to me, patting my back and laughing to herself. When I looked up at her, she convulsed in laughter again, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry,” she sputtered. “So sorry.” She wasn’t. She kept laughing. Her entire face was a bright red. I scowled at her, or I would’ve if my fourth glass of wine wasn’t threatening to spill out. “Too much wine. Way too much.” “I know.” She couldn’t stop giggling and shook her head. “I’m so sorry.” “That was four glasses ago. Theresa stopped doing wine nights. I’m out of practice.” “Oh, Emma.” Her