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“Fair point.”
“So will you come?” I asked, thinking I could use the extra support when I broke the news to my siblings.
“I’ll have to see what we have going on at the bar.”
“Right,” I said, doing my best to hide my disappointment. “Of course.”
“Are those the final candidates?” he asked, lifting his chin towards the stack of papers in my lap.
I nodded.
He tossed his sketchbook on the wooden coffee table and extended a hand towards me.
I leaned forward to give him the paperclipped stack of my top ten, my chest tightening as soon as I let go.
He pretended to push invisible glasses up his nose before looking down at the first profile. “I thought you cut this guy?” he asked.
“Which one?”
“Brad the Cat Guy.”
“I decided it wasn’t right to cut him just because you’ve never met a Brad you liked.”
“Wasn’t there something else wrong with him?” His brow furrowed as he scanned the page. “Oh yeah. He’s lactose intolerant. Do you have any idea how big of a pain in the ass that is?”
“Sort of, but it’s not genetic.”
“Seems like an unnecessary risk to take.”
“Almond milk isn’t exactly a death sentence.”
He laughed. “What about ice cream, though? And cheese?”
“I do love cheese.”
“Could you give it up?” he asked. “To avoid making little Bradley Jr. feel left out?”
“First of all, I wouldn’t call him Bradley Jr.,” I said. “And it’s not like I’d have to give up cheese.”
“True. I suppose you could eat cheese in front of him. Causing trauma is an essential part of parenting.”
I cocked my head. “Okay, I get it. Brad isn’t your favorite.”
“Brad is my least favorite,” he corrected before lifting the page and wincing like I’d planted a crime scene photo in the stack.
“What is it now?”
“The Texan made the top ten?”
I shrugged. “It’s not his fault he was born in Texas.”
“It’s not his geographical location I have a problem with,” he said. “The guy has three PhDs.”
“Don’t you think that’s impressive?”
“If emotional quotient isn’t important to you.”
I squinted at him.
