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The look she gives me would scare a lesser man, but I’m no lesser man.
“Or we could always talk about the other night,” I challenge, wanting to get that out into the open instead of it hanging over us like a noose.
“Can we please just not? I just went through it with them, and I really don’t want to rehash it again. I feel stupid enough as it is.”
I lean in and grip the back of her neck. “You’ve got nothing to feel stupid about, Wren. But we don’t have to talk about that now if you’re not ready.”
Wren’s stomach growls, and she pushes me away with her foot. “Feed me first.”
“Oh yeah?” I stand up and grab the plates from the warming drawer. “Then what?”
She blows out an exasperated breath. “Fine. My father’s retiring, which you already know. But apparently, he and my mother are leaving soon for an extended trip to Greece. And when they come home, Mom plans on cutting back her hours at the practice.” Her voice grows more animated with each new statement. “She’s not officially retiring. Yet. But she’s cutting back her hours.”
I refill her now-empty glass of wine and watch as her pale skin grows pinker and pinker with each new thought. “Because why would she bother telling me that before I took ownership of half the practice?” She sips her wine and almost spits it out with her next thought. “Oh! And she had me interview three doctors today because apparently, I have no life, and neither did Mom. But she wants to make sure I can get a life. Geez! I’m tired of everyone feeling the need to point out how pathetic my life is.”
When I place a plate in front of her, my girl stops her tirade and gives me a surprised smile as she tastes a forkful of lasagna. “Ooh, this isgood.”
“Told you.” She glares at me. Like a truce was going to keep me from pointing out I was right. But I ignore her glare and take a seat at the end of the table, next to her. “Now, tell me what your mom said.”
“We’re bringing two more doctors on at the practice because she doesn’t want me giving up everything she did. She regrets how much of our lives she missed and doesn’t want me to have to make those same sacrifices. Forget the fact I don’t even have kids or a husband yet. She’s worried about her imaginary grandbabies, apparently. Seriously? What the hell?”
“Help me out here, Red. Why is this a bad thing? You’re already a partner in the practice. You’re doing exactly what you’ve busted your ass to achieve since high school. And now you get to have a life too. You’re being handed exactly what most of us hope we’re able to do.” The way her green eyes sharpen immediately is like a flashing neon sign.
Danger. Danger. Abort.
“Handed?” she questions, clearly pissed at my poor choice of words.
“Sorry.”
Her brows shoot higher.
“Give me a break. That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” I argue.
“I haven’t beenhandedanything. I had no problem working in a hospital or in someone else’s practice until my mom asked me to come home. She. Asked. Me.” She runs a hand through her long red hair, then looks away. “I should have knownthensomething was going on.”
“Can you explain to me why this is such a bad thing?” I push back, wanting to understand.
“Because”—she brings her eyes back to mine—“I like to work. I enjoy what I do. Now is the time I’m supposed to be throwing myself into my work, so later on, I can slow down.”
“Haven’t you thrown yourself into work, so to speak, for ten years? What’s wrong with having a little more balance? Enjoying yourself a little? I know a healthy work-life balance isn’t something either of us grew up seeing with our parents. But it doesn’t mean we have to emulate them.” If any of us wanted to talk to my dad, we were better off trying to catch him at the office than at home on most nights, and we all just accepted it as par for the course.
I’ve watched my siblings all handle relationships and parenthood in a much healthier way than he ever did. And I know that’s what I want.
Wren looks away from me like she can’t stand to see me, or maybe it’s my reaction she’s scared to see. “What if...” she starts out slowly. Unsure. And I fight the urge to reach out to her because I know that’s not what she’d want right now.
“What if I don’t knowhowto have a life? It’s been so long since I’ve had one. I mean—” She cuts herself off before abruptly turning back to me. “I’m nearly thirty, and I don’t know what a healthy balance would even be for me. If I’m not working... Well, there’s noif. I’m always working. Or studying. It’s who I am. And ever since I’ve come back here, everyone’s told me that’s not good enough.” Her first tear falls, and it’s not from sadness. It’s from frustration. “ThatI’mnot good enough.”
“Wren.” I lean into her and cup her face in my hands. “No one is telling you you’re not good enough. They’re making sure you have options.”
“What if I don’t want options? What if I like my life the way it is? What if I don’t want anything to change?” She wraps her fingers around my wrists and holds me to her. “You were supposed to be my compromise, Kingston.” A small smile tugs at her lips. “You were what I was doing forme. What I was doing for fun.”
She doesn’t say, until things got messy, but I can read between the lines.
“I like knowing I can be an escape for you, Wren.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and let the soft strands slip through my fingers. “That doesn’t have to change.”
“Remember when you said the ball was in my court?” she asks softly as she pulls my shirt out of my jeans.
I tug on her hair and nod in agreement. “Yeah, Red. What happens next is up to you, but I want you to be sure.”
