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“I’m not preparing for failure. Just being realistic.”
“Look, I know everyone worth knowing in this city, and I know all the people who come to visit. I recommend your restaurant on opening night, they all love it, reviews come pouring in online and in the papers, and then your restaurant is a massive hit.”
“It’s only a massive hit if they like it.”
“That is one thing we don’t have to worry about,” he said. “They’ll love it.”
“This is going to cost a lot of money,” I said. “I don’t want to lose it?—”
“You won’t.”
“And I really don’t want to lose your money?—”
“Ourmoney.” He left the counter and straightened. “This place is too small, baby. Maybe for something casual like sandwiches and salads or a dessert shop, but not for your cooking. Your culinary excellence deserves serious fanfare. I see lots of black marble, coffered ceilings, gold tumblers, real fancy shit.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re just used to fancy parties and snobby people.”
“And I know what snobby people like—good food.”
“I think I need a second opinion about the cooking. You seem like a guy who would be happy with a sandwich.”
He grinned. “I have my own chef. So I’m used to the finer things in life.”
“I still think you’re biased.”
“What does your father think?”
“I’ve never really cooked for him before. Sometimes I bring things by his house and he likes it, but I’ve never prepared a meal or anything.”
“Invite him over for dinner and see what he thinks.”
“Both of you together?” I asked in disbelief.
“He is my father-in-law.”
“I don’t know if I can trust him. I could put a pile of dog shit on his plate, and he’d eat it with a grin.”
A slight chuckle escaped his lips. “I’d love to see that.”
I smacked his arm playfully and turned to the door.
“You know who will give you their straight opinion?”
We walked out, and the real estate agent locked the door.
“I don’t think this place is right for us,” I said. “We’d like to keep looking.” We said our goodbyes, and then Axel and I walked down the street, past the little shops, as we headed to our car a couple blocks away. “Who?”
“Theo.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ll tell him to like it.”
“I won’t.”
“And even if you don’t, he’s not going to insult his best friend’s wife.”
“He’s not my best friend. He’s my brother.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
