Page 52 of The Love Operation

“You’re too good at this. Okay, next! Cleaning habits. Are you a slob?”

He winces. “I might be a neat freak?”

“Are you asking me?”

“I like things orderly. But I don’t cook.”

“Good. I’ll cook if you clean.”

“Deal,” he says.

“Okay, let’s talk money.” I tap my notepad. “Separate bank accounts or joint?”

“I personally like the idea of joint everything,” he says jovially. “That’s what it means to be a team, doesn’t it? I don’t plan to be with anyone who doesn’t share my same money values.”

I arch an eyebrow. “And those values are . . . ?”

He steeples his fingers like a professor about to give a lecture. “Work hard. Make money. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but let’s be real—it’s nice. Don’t spend foolishly, but enjoy life. Save but don’t hoard. I invest, let my money work for me. I have a finance person, Pen Miles. She grows it faster than I can.” He pauses. “What about you?”

I consider. “Same answer. That name sounds familiar.” I start to tell him that I think I saw his finance person’s husband for back pain, but that would be a Hipaa violation. I remember them being a sweet couple, going through a lot.

“Next question,” I say. “The aliens have landed. We have no idea if they’re friendly or hostile. Do you make first contact or lay low?”

“Lay low.” His answer is shockingly immediate, as if he’s got written documents in his safe deposit box indicating what he should do in the case of an alien invasion. “We sit back, gather intel.”

I raise a brow. “So you’d let someone else go first?”

“It’s a good strategy.”

“It’s a strategy.”

He puts a finger over his lips and narrows his eyes at me as if this question is the one that will break us. “So you’d make contact? Just dive in, headfirst?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t sit back and let someone else make the first move. Or worse, hide.”

“I never said hide.”

“You strongly implied it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Next question.”

I beam at him. “If the aliens have mind-control tech, how would I know if you’ve been body-snatched?”

“What’s with all the alien stuff?”

“This is how I get to know you. Go with it.”

He closes his eyes. “If I’m holding a reptile . . . run.”

I gasp. “That’s gotta change. I told you, Tad Cooper and I, we’re like this.” I hold up my crossed fingers to show the interconnectedness of me and my dragon chum.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “He’s really a deal-breaker?”

My mouth stands agape as I am agog. “How would you feel if I said, ‘Isaac, I really don’t like your grandma. Mind if we take her out back and put her out of my misery?’”

“That’s extreme.”

“That is truth, buddy.”