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Summer

72 HOURS!

I smile at the thought of going to Vegas. Her best friend even scheduled a club crawl tour bus so we can easily barhop. Summer’s been planning her wedding since she was five years old, including her bachelorette party.

Upon checking the time, I see I have a little under an hour until my next client arrives, so I go back to the salon and wait. The rest of the day flies by quickly without any cancellations, which is great, but it also means standing for hours without a break.

Even though I’m exhausted when I get home, I take the time to eat with my parents. My dad isn’t home often for dinner, considering he’s a doctor and usually gets called in even after long workdays, so I try to spend as much time with them as I can, though the conversation rarely goes in a positive direction.

“How’s work going?” Dad asks as he scrolls through his phone. I’ve gotta give him props for even asking, considering I can’t remember the last time he did.

“Great, actually. Pretty busy, but I can’t complain.” I keep my response short and sweet because I know what’s coming next.

He sighs, displeased. “You’re so smart, Zoey. You would make a wonderful physician. People adore you, and you have great people skills, just like Summer does. You two got that from me,” he says with a small smirk. “There’s still time to change your mind and go to school,” he adds before stuffing his mouth. Not a week passes without a reminder from him about how great I would’ve been following in his footsteps.

Summer’s a few years older than I am, and she’s already graduated with a perfect GPA in pre-med and is working to become a doctor just like my father. Then there’s me, who decided not to go to college or keep the family legacy of practicing medicine alive. Now they’re convinced if I marry someone who they approve of—someone who comes from money or has money—then all will be well in the world, and as soon as that thought hits, my mother chimes in.

“So, how’s Benjamin?” She looks at me with bright blue eyes, hoping I’ll say exactly what she wants to hear.

“He’s fine, I guess. Not sure.” I shrug, hoping she’ll drop the topic. “Haven’t chatted with him in a few days,” I admit and feel the disappointment streaming off her when she furrows her brows.

My father speaks up. “He’s a great kid. You should really give him a chance, Zoey. Comes from a good family of doctors and is well mannered. Great at his job, which pays extremely well. He’ll make a name for himself without a doubt. Hell, he’s well on his way now, considering all the experience he’s had in surgery.”

Yes, because that’s all that matters.

“He’s also way older than me,” I remind them just as I have several times before.

“Your father is ten years older than I am.” Mom glowers. “I keep him young. Plus, marrying an older man means he’s more mature and knows what he wants in life. No drama or games.”

I nearly choke on my food and wish this conversation would end, so I change the subject.

“So, the Vegas trip is this weekend. Don’t forget we fly out on Friday.” I hurry and take a bite so I don’t have to talk.

“You really need to be safe while you’re there. Take pepper spray, and don’t talk to strangers. Sometimes you’re too friendly and will chat with anyone,” Mom tells me as if I’m a five-year-old child. She’s always so worried about me, probably because I’m nothing like her.

“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Summer and all her friends. We’re not leaving each other’s side,” I tell her, hoping she’ll finally get off my ass about it.

Dad breathes in heavily. “I don’t know why Summer would plan something so childish. Most women do spa days or vacations in New York. Vegas is just…trashy.” He gives me a pointed look, and his judgy tone can’t be mistaken for anything else. He despises the idea.

“I even offered to pay for you girls to go to Bali for three days, and Summer refused,” Dad grunts. I think it’s the first time Summer has really gone against their wishes, and I’m actually proud as hell of her for doing what she wanted. Our parents tend to have a tight hold on us, especially me, and while I want to move out, I’m not sure how they’ll react when I actually do. Though it’s ridiculous, they’re more focused on marrying me off so I’m “taken care of.” I’m sure that’s the only way they’ll accept me leaving.

After we finish eating, Dad tells us good night, then heads toward the stairs. Since he has to be at the hospital at four in the morning, he goes to bed before the sun completely sets. I load the dirty plates into the dishwasher as Mom puts the extra food in containers. I’m being standoffish and just want to go to bed. I’ve had a long day.

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