“I won’t sacrifice their sixteenth birthday” John said, his tone firm, his body language defensive, his strong, square jaw set.

  “IF,” Jane added, as she bracketed the sharp features of her face in both hands, “It’s a boy.”

  John smiled while running a hand through his full head of dark brown hair. Trump card time, “My genetics haven’t produced female offspring in over six generations.”

  Jane’s smirk overshadowed his good mood. She didn’t even blink or shy away from his gaze as she reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. Opening said folder, she removed the top sheet. “I have evidence to the contrary, Mr. Smith.” Finally, she looked away to read from the document. “One Eleanor Smith, born June 3rd, 1891.”

  John’s well-muscled chest expanded subconsciously, “Technically estranged!”

  “Technically still born from your family genetics.”

  John scoffed, “Ms. Smythe, You think you’re getting a daughter on a technicality?”

  Jane’s voice turned sultry and she caressed his hand, “Mr. Smith, I always get what I want on a technicality.”

  “Fine,” John conceded, rubbing the day-old stubble sprinkling his chin, “But no circumcision! It’s barbaric.”

  “Acceptable.” She leaned forward, confident this was going in her favour.

  This back and forth had been going on for some time, much to the chagrin of their fellow patrons. While the restaurant was certainly not high-class, it was still a place of business. Not that every customer minded. There were at least two phones recording the event, and no less than three tables who cheered for one side or the other.

  While they debated, John and Jane were periodically nibbling at their dinner. Fortunately their manners with food were better than their social graces. No food flying through the air, no talking with their mouth full, just a strange tirade of demands and counter-demands. If one didn’t know better, one might think they were married, though they would both disabuse that notion, having agreed such affairs should be decided upon in another agreement.

  “That pasta looks good, can I try I bite?” John asked.

  Jane speared a few noodles and spun her fork, then held it up just out of reach, “Only if we can agree on homemade, gluten free, vegan birthday cakes.”

  John was about to take the fork in his mouth when he winced at the term she set, “Objection! Unreasonable expense!”

  “Overruled!” Came the voice of an older gentleman one table over, eating dinner with his wife.

  Jane started to lean in with the fork again before John held up a finger, “Under condition that I get to pick his first car.”

  It was her turn to wince, withdrawing the pasta-covered fork, “No sports cars?”

  He nodded, “No sports cars.” She leaned in with the fork a bit.

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  Thinking for a moment, she asked, “Nothing over 300 horsepower?”

  He nodded again, “Nothing over 300 horsepower.” Once again, she moved closer with the fork

  “Full modern safety features?” She added.

  Once more, John agreed, “Full modern safety features.” Closer still, she got.

  “GPS tracker wired to the battery?” She didn’t think he would agree to this term, but she had to try.

  He shook his head, but smiled, “That’s what cell phones are for.”

  Jane returned his smile, as she slid the fork into his mouth and uttered the word, “Acceptable.”

  John accepted the pasta, providing a manly moan of satisfaction, both for the pasta and the terms.

  Billie, The Waitress

  The young waitress, Billie, stood beside her manager at the bar. They observed the couple with rapt attention, a mix of emotions warring on their face.

  “I can’t decide if they’re better or worse than my parents.” Billie said.

  Her manager snorted, “I grew up in a literal trailer park with a drunk, abusive father and a drug addict for a mother. At least these two seem to care about their future child.”

  Billie put an arm around her boss and gave her a friendly squeeze, “Drinks are on me tonight, boss.”

  “Ya know,” The Manager said, “If we go out drinking every time that couple debates their future life over dinner, we’re going to become drunks.”

  John and Jane

  “Sports.” John said, as if that one word carried the whole conversation.

  Jane narrowed her eyes, and repeated after him, “Sports.”

  Ticking his fingers off, John said, “Football, baseball, hockey, soccer, lacrosse. High quality team sports.”

  Jane steepled her fingers above the table, while running her foot along his leg below, “No full contact before high school.”

  John gulped. He had heard she was a tough negotiator, “Deal.”

  Choosing to press her advantage while on the offensive, Jane added a seductive note to her voice, and caressed the top of his hand again, “Graduations.”

  “All…of them?” John was on a backfoot now, weakening to her feminine wiles.

  She nodded.

  He gestured at himself, “Black tie, for me?” Then gestured at her, “And dress, for you?”

  She nodded again.

  His eyes widened, almost drawn out of the hypnotic effect she was having on him. John’s thoughts went from monkey suit, to expensive, and then finished with him blurting out, “Worth it.”

  “Pardon, Mr. Smith?”

  Recomposing himself, John said, “Your terms are acceptable, Ms. Smythe.”

  John followed up with, “Then there’s one last thing we need to discuss before closing this agreement.

  Like any couple since time immemorial that matched up so well, John and Jane said in unison, “Names.”

  “I have a suggestion for that.” Jane said.

  “By all means, Ms. Smythe, present your idea.”

  Nodding, Jane continued, “Thank you, Mr. Smith. I suggest we each pick three names, check them for ridiculousness, then drop them in a hat, shake it, and pick a name.”

  John acted like he was thinking on this for a moment, but his brain was already thinking about how tonight’s date would end, so he nodded in agreement, while saying, “Logical, reasoned, fair. I accept.”

  They shook hands, then called for the waitress.

  When Billie arrived, she asked, “Split the bill as usual?”

  John and Jane both spoke up, stating, “No, I think I’ll pull the bill tonight.”

  Unbeknownst to the waitress, both of them were thinking the same thing. I can’t be a poor winner. I should cover the bill.

  Billie, for her part, just flipped back and forth between them for a second, then said, “I’ll bring two bills while you two decide.”

  After fifteen minutes of debate, they had agreed to pay each other’s bill.