Everyone at the table continued to gawk at him as he did the smart thing, the logical thing, and continued to eat the best vegan burger in Harbor City while they ignored theirs. They’d regret that. Cold burgers were still good, but nothing like the brain-bending goodness of a warm one. He was about to explain that in detail to them when the giggles started. It began with his sister, Bristol, of course, but pretty soon the whole table was laughing.

Finally catching her breath after her giggle fit, Bristol wiped away a tear of amusement. “Can you imagine?” She used her fork to point at him from her spot at the other end of the table. “This guy? Married?”

Morgan, Griff’s little sister, shook her head. “He’d spend so much time explaining how marriages work to his poor fiancée, she’d fall asleep before the proposal.”

“Or he’d mansplain how she should feel about engagement rings,” Bristol added.

Should he be offended? Maybe, but this was his family, and despite how much he might pretend the opposite was true, he knew their assessment was fair. Not that he’d admit it. He had his reasons, and they knew that. There was a reason why everyone always came to him with their questions and problems—he always knew what to do.

When his mom got stuck in Waterbury because she’d forgotten to pay her cell phone bill—again—he outlined exactly how to set up automatic payments. Information his mom had ignored, per usual. When his brother, Macon, needed help getting his literary agency off the ground? Nash had been there with a business plan within thirty minutes before his brother even got a chance to ask for it. When Bristol had bought that money pit of a house and had no idea where to go for renovation help? He’d outlined her options, developed a pros-and-cons list about contractors, and when she’d ignored him because, as she’d said, she hadn’t even asked for his help in the first place, he’d emailed the entire document to her anyway and put in calls to a few of his contacts so she wouldn’t get ripped off.

He knew things, and sharing that information was just what he did.

“Is it wrong that I spend enough time reading focus-group reports that I have insight into how people think and how they act?” Nash asked. “I’m literally everyone’s best resource. Hell, I’m the family Google.”

“Oh my God, Nash. I love you, but you are a dick,” Macon blurted out and then looked down to the other end of the table and cringed. “Sorry, Mom.”