“Can we not? Can we just not talk about her? Or compare what I’m feeling to what you and her had together? Okay? This is completely different than that. And it’s not like I’m a total goner for this guy or anything. I’m at, like, the very, very beginning of falling in love. With someone who is totally different than anyone I’ve ever been into before. Like, pretty much the opposite.”

“The opposite of someone you’ve been with before . . . so, he’s not a meathead. He’s a good listener. And he’s a dork?”

“Thanks for that, Pops. I’m pretty sure you’re roasting me right now, aren’t you?”

“Am I wrong?” he asks in that know-it-all tone of his that I’ve always pretended to hate but secretly love.

“No. Except for the dork part. I mean he is kind of a dork, but in a good way. A cute way.”

“So, what’s the problem, then?”

“Jack.”

“. . . Jack doesn’t like him or something?” he asks.

“No. It’s not that. Jack doesn’t even know him. But Eliot knows Jack. And if he found out he was my brother he would . . . probably never want to speak to me again.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I can’t explain it more than that, Pops.”

He pauses for a long moment, and I think he’s going to demand more information, but instead, he surprises me. “Well, if it were me, and I was really in love with someone, I probably wouldn’t give a damn who her dumbass brother is.”

“I mean, it might not make him hate me. But he’s definitely not going to want to come around for Christmas. It’s a nonstarter. There’s no way we could have a real relationship if he couldn’t be around Jack at all.”

“So . . . this is about loyalty to Jack?”

“You sound surprised. He’s my brother, Pops. I’m not going to cut him out of my life, no matter how much of a cut-up he’s been.”

“Have you talked to Jack about it?”

“No.”

“Does he know you love this guy?”

“No,” I say.

“Talk to him. He might surprise you. I don’t know the situation, but there might be something he could do about it?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Kid, there’s something I’ve been thinking I should probably explain about your mom.”

“Pops, I already know everything.”

“What makes you so sure about that?”

“I was there, remember? It’s not like you and Mom used to leave the room to fight with each other. I know why she left.”

“. . .”

“Pops? You still there?”

“You take your bike out to the ocean?” Again, he surprises me by letting the topic drop.

“Huh? Oh. Yup.”

“Ugh. I shouldn’t have asked. Don’t tell me any more. You’re wearing your helmet? Your leather?”