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How would that be? I wondered. I probably wouldn’t like it. If my dad was proud about everything, wouldn’t that basically mean all accomplishments were equal? But I could do with a littleoccasionally proud.That would require a parent who didn’t work so much, or who wasn’t constantly trying to play Switzerland in every serious conversation. Or maybe it would require me being more open. I wasn’t sure any of those things were possible.

As if reading my mind, Asher asked, “What about your dad?”

“Sorry I didn’t introduce you at the restaurant.”

“It’s okay, you were busy running from my family.”

I smiled. “This is true.”

“Proud dad? Or surly dad?”

Were those the only two options? Did they represent either end of the parent spectrum? I wanted to just say,Yes, my dad is super proud,but I found myself saying, “I don’t share much with my dad. He has too much to worry about.”

“Are accomplishments something to worry about?”

“There aren’t many of those to share.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Asher said.

“Well, I’m no marketing professional.”

“Ha!”

My cheeks went pink. It wasn’t like he was hard to make laugh—the opposite, in fact—but his laugh was so genuine and open. “I like your idea for Bean. Thanks for taking this seriously,” I said.

“Every ounce of seriousness I have is directed toward this project.”

“You’re being aggressively serious?”

His smile fell off his face. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh!” I said, suddenly remembering we weren’t in the house alone. “The game. Are they all waiting for us?”

“No, I died. Darren had it out for us tonight.”

“I sensed that. Was he mad I came or something?”

Asher cringed. “Not mad, exactly. Just mad I didn’t tell him a week in advance. He puts a lot of work into these. Sorry he went hard on you.”

I wouldn’t have known the difference either way. “My rolls were off, too,” I said.

“Yeah, they were,” he agreed.

Dale’s head appeared in the bedroom doorway, followed by his whole body. “I see how it is, you guys ditch us with the nerds.”

Kamala was right behind him. “That’s a fun game. I like your friends.”

“But you like me the best, right?” Dale said.

“Of course.” Like I had, she walked over to the posters on the wall. “ ‘Where’s the beef?’ ”

“He’s a marketing genius,” I whispered.

“Did you design these?” Kami asked.

“I wish!” Asher said without a hint of sarcasm.

I couldn’t help but laugh. I summarized Asher’s idea about the Bean Games to Kamala and Dale.