So I have to rely on the generosity of my two billionaire brothers, who are so eager to share their wealth with me.
“How was your lunch, Miss Lavender?” Gordon asks, and turns to the right as several cars honk around us, and my fingers curl on my lap while I swallow hard. “You had a busy week at school. Midterms are coming up soon, right? It seems like you’ve just started the semester.”
“Yes, I have to study a lot.” Concentration is still a hard skill for me to master, but I’m getting there. “It’s my first semester, so I have almost four years to go.”
Then I can get a job and hopefully buy myself a house in the middle of nowhere, and run away from everyone’s pity, which currently feels like a golden chain wrapped around my throat, forcing me to act a certain way.
My prison no longer consists of white walls and constant sedatives, but it’s a prison nevertheless.
“Bachelor of Arts, right?” He catches my eye in the rearview mirror once again, and I nod. “What made you choose that?”
I sigh inwardly because pointless chitchat is Gordon’s way of bonding, and since he’s always so nice, I have to engage in them. “I loved reading about various cultures and their myths in school, so it seemed appropriate.”
“Was it your dream to specialize in mythological studies?” He honks at the driver who almost crashes into him from the left and smoothly maneuvers the car in a different direction, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Fucker.”
His barely audible mutter makes my lips twitch. “No. I wanted to be a doctor.”
His brow furrows. “Why not pursue a medical career then?”
“Because it’s impossible.” He opens his mouth to argue, so I beat him to it. “Even studying mythology is hard for me. So it is what it is.”
Besides, after all these doctors exhausted me with needles and tests over the years, the profession lost its appeal.
“It’s never too late for anything, Miss Lavender,” he says softly as he stops at the red traffic light. “Life is full of surprises.”
“And that’s a myth.” Some things in life have expiration dates, and no matter how much everyone claims you can do whatever at any age…it’s not true.
At thirty, you are supposed to be a grown adult with several relationships, friends, and work experience that allow you to be independent.
Not a lonely, lost girl who doesn’t fit anywhere, especially with men my age who look for experience where there is innocence.
Men welcome innocence only when it comes with youth. Otherwise, they aren’t interested in it.
My phone vibrates in my palm, and I see a message from Emmaline flashing on the screen.
Hey, girl! Are you free by any chance?
I still at her question because my adoring sister-in-law makes it her mission to check on me daily. She rarely asks about my whereabouts, though.
I wouldn’t be surprised if my brothers inserted some kind of tracker inside me for that, and isn’t it unbelievable how this doesn’t really faze me?
Although one might argue that after the life experiences we’ve all had, nothing in this world has the power to faze us.
I had lunch. Why?
We’re planning to go dress shopping later on today. We wanted to take you with us. Since you’re one of the bridesmaids at Rush and Aileen’s wedding.
Blinking a few times, I reread this particular message, and it has my stomach boiling just at the prospect of going through all this hassle while hating every minute of it.
While I love my older brothers, who happen to be twins, and one of them is getting married soon, I have no desire to be part of the wedding.
Saying it out loud would probably hurt Emmaline and Aileen, so I quickly tell Gordon, “Change of plans. Let’s go to the library.” He nods and turns left at the traffic light, onto the bumpy asphalt road leading to the three-story building with several cracks. Its washed-out red color gives it a rather dark, unsophisticated vibe.
I’m sorry. I wish I could, but I promised to help at the library.
I thought you only worked on Mondays and Thursdays? Today is Tuesday.
Why did my brothers decide to marry awesome women who care about their sister and seem to remember everything when it comes to me? I mean, I’m happy for them, even if their rather perfect lives cause a little resentment in me.
