I stood up. “Bradley,” I said, sweet as pie, “I have a question.”
The room went quiet. My mother put her hand on my arm. Bradley just looked at me for a long moment. Then he did something I’d never seen him do. My Only Bitchy Cousin Is a Yankee-Type Guy- The...
“It’s ‘fewer rolls,’ not ‘less rolls,’ Aunt Patty. Rolls are discrete units.” I stood up
Aunt Patty, who had just driven four hours through Atlanta traffic, looked like she was considering using those discrete units to commit a felony. Bradley just looked at me for a long moment
He snorted. “And you’re a menace.”
He smiled. Not a smirk. A real, small, almost shy smile.
“Your oregano is expired,” he announced on his first visit, holding the jar like it was a dead rat. “And the way you store your olive oil next to the stove is degrading the polyphenols.”