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Julian
She doesn't get it.
Of all people, she should. She's afraid of the same thing I am—failure.
It's the reason she doesn't take the IQ test again.
Why would I put myself in a situation where I could potentially fail? I wouldn't. Which is why I decided not to apply to culinary school.
For starters, there's no guarantee I'll get in. I'm self-taught. Well, my mother taught me, but it's also been a lot of trial and error. I have no background. Aside from working for my parents, which will probably make the person who looks at my application laugh, I have no experience in the kitchen.
Which is why I wanted to stick to the original plan. Get my degree. Play one last season with the Hawks. Have fun before I have to be an adult every damn day. Then, take over my parents’ restaurant. It was a sure thing. I'm confident in my abilities enough to make sure this place doesn't burn down. We have a great team in place already to back me up. And I was planning on asking Piper if she wanted to work here on a more permanent basis.
On paper, it was the perfect plan.
I never should have been thinking about culinary school in the first place. The only reason I even considered it was because of her. Because she challenged me with her damn recipes. To think outside the box. To get creative. To find new ways to make the same dishes.
Her love of food was inspiring.
And now... I can't even watch her present her ideas to my parents.
It makes me wish things were different, and they can't be. I made a commitment to my parents. They deserve to retire. They deserve a chance to spend more time with my sister. Together. They've worked hard to provide for us. I want to do this for them.
Even if it means giving up something else I want just as much.
"Knock, knock," my dad says as he opens the door to my office. Without my invitation, he takes the seat across from me. The seat Piper usually sits in while we brainstorm. Her jacket is still hanging on the back of the chair from the last time we were here together. There's a hair-tie sitting on the table next to it. And when he sits down, I get a distinct whiff of her perfume. "You look like shit."
"Says the man who has more gray hairs every time I see him."
My parents aren't young. They tried to have kids for years before I was conceived completely by accident. They'd just opened the restaurant and were working long, stressful days. My mom says she knew right away she was pregnant with me, but my dad tells a different story. Mom puking at the smell of certain foods. Exhausted more than usual. He thought she was sick, not pregnant.
My mom was thirty-seven, and my dad was forty-one at the time. Eleven years later, they got another big surprise when my sister was born. We were both happy accidents, blessings, according to them. They both wanted a big family, lots of kids, so when they were told their chances of conceiving naturally were slim to none, they were devastated. They channeled all their energy into starting the restaurant. It became their new dream.
When it was time to go off to college, I didn't want to leave them. I didn't want to leave Jenna, my little sister. So I chose Lake State. It was local. I could still help at the restaurant, and they offered me a scholarship to play for them. The decision made sense to me. I'm happy I stayed here.
Just like the decision not to go to culinary school makes sense to me.
"Wanna tell me what happened back there?" My dad tosses his thumb over his shoulder toward my open office door. I can hear the commotion from the kitchen as they finish setting up for dinner service.
"What do you mean?" Playing dumb is not my strong suit, especially where my parents are concerned. I couldn't get anything past them when I was younger, and I'm not sure why I'm trying to now. My father reads me like an open book. Probably because we're so much alike.
"You walked out on Piper's presentation. Considering you were who the presentation was for—not me, not your mother— that was awfully rude, don't you think,"
"I know all about the dishes, Dad. I helped her with a few. She's been bouncing ideas off me from the start."
"Yes, but you haven't seen the finished product. Haven't tasted the flavor profiles. It's part of your job, Julian."
Shit. If the deep vibrations in his voice weren't enough to tell me how disappointed he is in me, the fact he didn't call me by my nickname would be. I can't remember the last time he called me anything other than JJ.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I figured she would be nervous if I was there," I lie.
"You're her boss. She should be nervous in front of you."
Yeah, not why she would be nervous.
"Right. I'll go apologize," I state, pushing out of my chair, but his words stop me before I get very far.
"She left."
