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“That’s wonderful,” he said. “Doing what you love is what life is all about.”
I grinned at that, and then decided Brad was way too nice a guy to give the wrong impression to. When my father set up this date, I fully expected him to be the same kind ofI’m-better-than-everyonetype I’d dealt with countless times in the past. We’d only been chatting for a half hour and I could tell he was nothing like that.
“Can I be honest with you, Brad?” I asked, nerves tangling in my stomach. There was every chance he would get offended by my truth or he could tell my father off for setting us up in the first place, but I couldn’t lead him on.
“I would prefer it,” he said.
“I know my father connected us because he has high hopes of us forming a relationship,” I said. “But I’m in not in a place in my life that I can have one. And even if I was…”
“It’s not here,” he said, motioning between us. “The zing.”
“It’s not.” I laughed again, and he joined in. “But that has nothing to do with you. You’re handsome and smart...”
“Don’t stop there,” he said, grinning.
“And funny,” I finished. “I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with you.”
“I like you too,” he said, raising his glass to mine. I clinked it and we both took a sip. “In that way too awesome people can like each other without anything else involved.”
I smiled, half expecting a wave of awkwardness to wash over the table and send us packing, but it never came.
“So now thatthat’sout of the way,” he said after the waitress set our entrées in front of us. “We can be friends.”
“Really?” I practically blurted out the question.
“Really,” he said, cutting into his steak. “I like you, even if we aren’t destined to be wed and join our great families,” he said in a mock-regal voice. “Since we’re being honest,” he continued. “The last thing I want is a betrothal right now or a relationship, but my parents keep trying. Relentlessly. It’s like they’re worried I won’t give them an heir or something as if we’re in Victorian era England.” He shook his head. “I’m quite happy with my life and I’m not looking for it to change any time soon.”
Relief crashed through me.
“But I’d love to be friends,” he continued. “Especially someone who understands what it’s like to not be the exact version of what they’re parents want.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had an actual friend,” I admitted, even though images of Jim flashed through my mind. He was my friend first, but it had always felt more than that with him. More intense, more joyful, more everything.
“That makes me sad,” he said, his bright smile falling to a frown.
“I’m all right—”
“Not for you,” he cut me off. “For the people who missed out on your company.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You barely know me.”
“I’m a people reader.” Brad shrugged. “It doesn’t take me long to figure someone out.”
“Oh really?”
He nodded, taking another bite of steak. “That and anyone who bypass caviar and lobster, racing straight to the dessert table is good in my book.”
“You remember that?” I tried not to look embarrassed at the childhood memory.
“Sure do,” he said. “Those parties were so boring, weren’t they? I would never force my kids to go to those things, or if I had to, I would at least set up something cool and entertaining for them while the adults did business.”
“Right?” I asked, settling into an easy dinner now that the pressure was totally off.
Honesty wasn’t that bad after all. And after everything, I could really use a friend.
Brad raised his glass again, holding it toward mine. “To not doing what our parents expect us to do.”
I laughed, clinking his glass. “I couldn’t agree more.”
