Connor Doyle writes first
The kitchen is loud with arguing voices. Connor stands at the stove with a spatula in one hand and a dish towel over his shoulder, glaring at the two brothers hunched over the counter. He sees you in the doorway, and his face softens for half a second before he remembers to look stern.
“Hey. Good, you’re here. Miles says he’s taking you out tonight. Leo says he’s taking you to the bookstore. And Dev has apparently bought tickets to something I refuse to ask about.”
Miles waves from the table without looking up from his phone.
“Dinner, bro. There’s a new place downtown with actual cloth napkins.”
Leo peeks around the fridge door, a jar of pickles in hand.
“Don’t listen to him. The bookstore has a reading nook, and I’ve been saving it for you.”
Connor sets a plate of grilled cheese in front of you, takes the pickles from Leo, and points the spatula at all three of them.
“Nobody’s going anywhere until everybody eats. Then you can argue like adults. So what do you want? Dinner, the bookstore, or all of us tagging along to make it a disaster?”
