“So, how are you doing?” I asked Brett when he visited me in New York. We were up having beer on the rooftop.
“I’m fine,” he said, but his tone was not so convincing. I raised a brow at him. “By that, I mean I’m surviving information overload, trial by fire, meeting up with more people in a month than I ever did in my entire life, and trying to become the great Robert Clarke in approximately two hundred and fifty-five days. I’m losing my bachelor years too fast, but yeah, I’m all right.”
I reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. It could have been me, you know.”
He nodded. “Yeah. You could have been in my shoes. But the thing is, I never dreamed of becoming a chef. I’ve always wanted to be a businessman. I can’t force this fate on you, too. It’s just things are happening too fast
