“Were the obvious choice,” he said.
“Clearly.”
“Clearly,” he mocked me. “Would you like to sample my uplifting Wednesday cupcakes?” He presented one to me as it was perched on his palm.
“Is there chocolate cake buried somewhere under all that frosting?” I asked.
“Duh.”
“I would love to have one, but we should have dinner first,” I suggested.And talk.
“Come on, Jimmy Jam.” I raised my eyebrow at him when he uttered Jimmy Jam. “Live a little. I’m willing to bet nothing would happen to you if you ate a cupcake before dinner.”
“Probably not. However, I’m willing to bet something painful will happen to your ass if you call me Jimmy Jam again,” I teased.
Brandon laughed as he shrugged.
“I also want to talk to you about my day,” I added. I felt an increasing amount of guilt the longer I dragged this out.
Brandon nodded and put the spatula in the container of frosting. He walked to the freezer and pulled open the drawer.
“Okay. What would you like for dinner?” he asked. “I can make us pot pies or this lasagna thing.”
Brandon pulled out a box of frozen lasagna and turned it over to read the back. I always made sure we had somewhat healthy food in the house that Brandon could make in the microwave if I was running late or had to work during our typical dinner hours. I didn’t want him to snack or feel like he had to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“This might be good.” He turned to face me and waved it in the air. “Says ten minutes, though.” He looked down at the box again. “And I think it needs to thaw or something.”
“Tell you what, set it out to thaw for a bit and let’s go talk.” I picked up the remote for the music and turned it off.
“Is it bad?” he asked. His tone was serious, and he no longer sounded like the cheerful young man dancing and singing with cupcakes.
“Does everything have to be bad, Brandon?”
“No. But you want to sit down with me to talk. So it must be bad.” He set the lasagna on the counter and leaned against the island. “If it’s not bad, then tell me here.” He shifted his eyes to the side so he could look into the great room. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
I cocked my head to the side when his voice trailed off. Brandon could rapidly spiral into an emotional hole, and it would be in his best interest if I curbed whatever negativity he had conjured up.
“What, pup? Unless what?” I asked again.
“You want the collar back,” he said and lowered his head.
My stomach dropped at how he’d come to the conclusion I was terminating our relationship. I quickly crossed the room to get to him.
“Brandon, no. Absolutely not!” I put my hand under his chin and guided it upward so he’d look at me. His eyes were watery, and he looked so sad. “It’s nothing like that, pup.”
“Then what?”
“Let’s go sit.”
“No. If it’s not bad, then tell me here.”
“I’d prefer that we sit.”
“I know it’s bad if you want to sit down.”
“Brandon, I met your father today.” I hadn’t intended on blurting out this kind of news, but with him so defiant and bringing up crazy suggestions about us breaking up, it just came out. He narrowed his eyebrows and studied me carefully. Now that he’d stopped carrying on about sitting or standing, I took a deep breath so I could calm down and get a better grip on this conversation. “I met your father today, pup.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to sit and talk.”
