I frown for a moment, trying to register what he’s saying, because my mind is happily frolicking in la-la-land.

Not to mention, every time they look at one another they’re all cheesy smiles and lovey-dovey eyes. But I could be getting the wrong signals. Though I’m pretty sure I’m not because when they’re around each other, the word “GAY” sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Why are we having a group meeting?” Tom asks me as he chops some vegetables in the kitchen. “I didn’t call for one.”

I roll my eyes and hop up on the counter. “You’re not the only one with the power to call a group meeting, Tom.”

He moves his head around sarcastically. “Yeah, but I’m usually the only one that ever does.”

That’s because he’s the Mother Hen.