Bert went for the fish sticks. I went for the chicken nuggets. “Helping a kid grow up ain’t riding a bike,” he said. “It’s something you gotta practice to get good at and keep doing or else you get rusty. I’m rusty at this part. It’s why I think you’ll actually be a good father when the time comes.”
I sucked in my breath. That was both the greatest compliment Herbert Braun had ever paid me, and easily the worst topic of conversation. How did you explain to someone that his daughter doesn’t want kids and that his son-in-law was on the fence at best, himself?
Bert saved me the trouble. “I know you and Catherine don’t think you’re ready, but you are.”
“Bert…”
