My dad laughs. “Don’t sound so excited.”
I shove him playfully on the shoulder. “Let’s go, old man.”
My dad and I walk down rue des Abbesses, casually catching up on life. He tells me about the trip he and Mom are taking next week to London so she can meet some singer who wants to hire her for her songwriting team.
I reply politely, nodding along. I’m glad to see my mom has been working hard since Amelia and I grew up—even if Amelia has yet to move out. She spent our entire childhood so devoted us, and her music took a back seat. Now is her time.
“What about you?” I ask, turning to look at him.
“What about me?”
“Don’t you have any bucket list ventures you want to explore? Why don’t you take a trip foryou?”
My dad lets out a hearty laugh as he claps a hand on my shoulder. We arrive at Le Consulat for lunch, and he waves to one of the servers he knows by name. Then we grab a table outside and sit across from each other.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
My dad leans back in his chair, staring at me over the table as if he knows something I don’t. He’s always had a way of looking so wise, like he knows everything but refuses to share that wisdom with everyone else. I wish I could live one day in my life as assured as my dad does, without an ounce of fear or anxiety. I honestlydon’t know if I’ve ever seen the man truly worry—other than the time we discovered Amelia’s shellfish allergy the first time she tried lobster, and he sprinted down the street with her in his arms to a nearby clinic.
Parental worry is one thing. But doesn’t he ever worry about things the way I do? About being enough. Getting his heart broken. Losing everyone he loves.
I’m assaulted by guilt at the realization that my dad has already experienced that. In a life far before mine, he did lose a child and his first wife.
“I laughed because the idea of me having any more ventures at this age is funny.”
“How so?” I asked. “You talk like your life is over.” My tone has grown sharp with annoyance.
My dad leans forward, his expression turned serious. “Julian, you and your sister and your mother are all I want out of this life. My life isn’t over. I hope I live long enough to see you become a father one day, if that’s what you choose. But this is the part of my life where I get to just enjoy it. I get to watch my wife fulfill her dreams. I get to watch my daughter come into her own. I get to watch my son…”
My teeth clench as I stare at him across the table, waiting to see what exactly my father expects from me. Run a successful club. Become a man. Make him proud. Inside, I’m begging him to give me something—a task, an expectation, an opportunity to impress him.
He lets out a sigh just as the server comes up to take our orders. I can practically feel the muscles between my eyes cramping as I scowl down at the table, glancing up only to put in an order for lunch and a drink.
When the man walks away, I stare at my father, waiting for him to finish his statement.
But he doesn’t. What he does do is smile coyly and say, “Your mother tells me that you introduced that handsome man that came to the party with you as your boyfriend.”
“Oh God,” I mutter with embarrassment as I cover my face.
“And yoursistertells me that the pretty chef who catered the party is your girlfriend.”
“Let’s not have this conversation,” I groan.
“Okay, okay,” he relents. “If that’s what you really want.”
It irritates me even more that he doesn’t push the issue, respecting my boundaries. My knee bounces under the table as I stare unfocused across the street. What pisses me off even more is that I find myself opening my mouth and continuing the conversation anyway.
“His dad owns some big aviation company,” I say casually without making eye contact.
“Interesting. And does he want to follow in his father’s footsteps?” my dad asks with curiosity.
“Not at all,” I reply. “He’s probably the most independent thinker I have ever met. Half the time, the shit he thinks doesn’t make an ounce of sense, but he manages to sell me on it anyway.”
My dad chuckles softly, and I fight the grin that threatens to stretch across my face.
“And her?”
“She’s incredible. She has natural-born talent, a work ethic like you wouldn’t believe, but still somehow manages to think she’s not worthy of the success she’s earned.”
