“What? Don’t look at me like that.” She waves her hand dismissively. “You can choose good looking, loving, and rich.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “You’re impossible.”
“Eat up, Ivy,” she says, pointing at the food. “Last night’s party was long, and you haven’t eaten all day.”
I check the time. It’s two p.m. Recalling my family’s monthly Sunday dinner, my face falls.
“I’m having dinner at my parent’s today.”
“The more reason why you should eat,” she calls out as she goes to the bedroom with the rest of her food. “I’m going back to sleep.”
I stare at my phone. King’s last message hasn’t been answered. I should ask more questions, establish some kind of boundary. Find out more about him and figure out if this is going anywhere or if I’m just entertaining myself with a stranger who happened to be nice enough to return my phone.
I type while I start eating.
Ivy:
Why did you choose your job?
He answers immediately.
King:
Because I’m quite good at it.
Ivy:
Somebody is tooting his horn.
King:
It’s a well accomplished horn. If you don’t let people know your worth, they’ll ignore your accomplishments.
That hit deep. After all the years of living in Marcus’s shadow, I’ve stopped telling my parents about my achievements.
King’s text pops up on my screen.
King:
So what about you, Dr. Ivy? Why did you choose your career?
Ivy:
Because I love it. But today, it’s my turn to ask questions.
King:
Interesting. Alright. Go ahead.
Ivy:
Where do you see yourself in the next five years?
King:
I’m focusing on the near future first. I need to end a contract so I can soar. I also hope to have my own family one day.
Ivy:
