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Guilt is the thief of happiness, and right now—it has stolen everything I’ve built to be able to move on from us.
And the worst part is, I have no idea how to make it all go away.
9
AMELIA
The restaurant we are dining at tonight is nestled in a quiet street in Williamsburg.
According to an online article Austin read, the restaurant was only recently opened by three best friends who just finished culinary school.
Visiting Williamsburg is something I enjoy. From the artistic vibes to the chic boutiques, there is something about this place that fuels creativity and makes you want to explore your boundaries. I’m far from being a creative person, best to bury my head in a textbook and study facts. Yet, it doesn’t stop my fascination with how the creative mind works.
The wait staff is very accommodating tonight, despite the restaurant being at almost capacity. One of the brothers, Roman, had stopped by our table to introduce himself to the three of us, but I suspect his interest is geared toward my father.
And if my suspicions are correct, it has something to do with business.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” I open with while dipping some fancy eggroll into a special sauce. “Do you own the place? The waiters are nervous, and Roman was extra polite to you as if this isn’t your first visit here.”
Dad chuckles softly, swirling the Shiraz sitting inside the glass in front of him.
“I’m considering it, depending on how tonight goes.”
When it comes to business and opportunities, my father is always one step ahead. Growing up, I never paid much attention to what he actually did because I was intrigued with our legal system. Therefore, I gravitated toward my mom. As I grew older and began to understand business, I realized just how influential and powerful my father is. Back in LA, he owned Dreamteam studios. They created and produced Oscar-winning movies and TV shows streamed all over the world. Yet Dreamteam is only a fraction of the Lexed Group. What he does beyond that is more than I can comprehend. I just never realized he invested in start-up restaurants, especially this small.
“Tell me, Austin, how are things going with your studies?” Dad asks.
“Challenging,” Austin replies while exhaling. “I’m gravitating toward pediatrics. Though, a part of me is also leaning toward being a trauma surgeon.”
“It’s a big decision to make,” Dad concludes, letting out a long whistle. “I wanted general practice. Perhaps, in hindsight, maybe that should have been a sign that my heart wasn’t in it. I was completely unfocused. Not to mention Charlotte proved a distraction.”
My lips curve upward into a smile. I’m sure he wouldn’t argue the distraction was worth it in the end.
“Do you think if you and Mom stayed together after she finished high school, you would have been a doctor to this day?”
Dad rubs his chin with a downcast expression. “It’s hard to say. The demands of a medical career would have pulled me away from her eventually. Besides, it’s hard to imagine it being any different. Your mother studied at Yale, as you know, and a law degree wouldn’t have been as satisfying had we stayed in Carmel.”
I bow my head, willing my rampant thoughts to slow down and stop overanalyzing. Since Austin is studying medicine, and with me studying law, how would we be any different? Austin will be away most days as everyone knows you can’t just clock out in the hospital. Not when there is an emergency.
And then what about when we have children one day? Is it expected that my career will take a back seat while Austin fulfills his dreams?
“Hello, family,” the familiar voice breaks my momentary freak out.
I lift my gaze to see Ava standing at our table, beautifully made up as usual. She’s wearing a high-waisted faux leather skirt with a white ribbed tank top and matching white sneakers. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail, though her waves are perfectly styled and falling down her back.
Despite how gorgeous she looks, it doesn’t erase my feelings toward her after our fight. She wraps her arms around Dad before letting go and taking a seat beside him.
“Oh, look
what the cat dragged back in,” I mumble beneath my breath.
Austin eyes the two of us with an amused look on his face. “What are the two of you arguing about now? Is it about the whole pineapple on pizza thing again?
“It shouldn’t be on there,” Ava states.
“Says who?” I counter, crossing my arms before glancing away. “It’s not about that, anyway.”
Ava lowers her gaze while adjusting her napkin. “Just girl stuff.”
