“So what are you thinking about?” Williams asks.
“Names,” says Kate.
“Names?”
“Yes, names for the baby.”
A long pause.
“I really like Avery,” says Kate.
“I’m not sure that’s gonna work.”
“How do you feel about Malik?” Kate says. “Like Malik Yoba.”
“That might not go over so well.”
“Mia is very popular these days,” says Kate.
Dismissive nod.
“I like Bradley.”
Another nod.
“Caleb?”
“No.”
“JaMarcus?”
“Not likely to happen.”
“Oscar?”
“I’m not feeling it.”
“Ari?”
“We’re not Jewish, Kate …”
“I know, but it’s really cute. What about Carey?”
“Kate, seriously now …”
“Well,” she says, “what do you think?”
“George is catchy.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? George? Fucking George? Are we living in 1765? George? George? I am not naming my child George. No, no. I’m sorry William, but I have my limits here. George? George? Hell, why don’t we just throw on Louis to make sure everyone kicks the kid’s ass. Jesus friggin’ Chr—”
Alas.
