Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,6
cope with a loss and renew your faith in life,” he argues, not sure if he’s upset that I’m fucking jaded for the rest of my life or because I’m trying to convince him to stay away from what will be the most catastrophic chapter in his life. “It’s been a long time since it happened.”
“Five years, but who’s counting?” I answer with a shrug. “Since you’re a stubborn son of a bitch, let’s get to work before I get fucking mad. We’re having a conference call instead of a meeting at the office. I anticipated that you’d be with her. Afterward, I have a few meetings at headquarters. We can discuss the rest tomorrow morning and make plans for what’s to come for the rest of the week.”
I dial the number and forget the memories about my shitty love story. He can have his happy bliss for now. We’ll drown his sorrows with alcohol in a couple of years, or maybe months.
Three
Nyx
Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if my parents were normal. Not that I regret my life the way Callie does. It’s just…every time I have personal time off, I wonder if the path I’m following is the right one.
Then I go down the rabbit hole wondering if I would have chosen a different career and what that would be?
Did they fuck my future because I was trying not to be them?
I love them dearly. They are two of the smartest, quirkiest, most loving people I’ve ever known. It’s ironic that they’ve studied society, its structure, and behavior throughout their lives. They dug, analyzed, and wrote books about civilizations. Yet, they don’t follow social etiquette.
Their work is important, and I respect it, but would it be too hard for them to be a little more conventional?
During my college years, I panicked that I’d end up like them while we were growing up. Homeless, poor, and with four kids traveling around the world. At least, that’s the way I saw it back when I was younger. Perception is the key.
We didn’t own a house. Our belongings fit inside our luggage. We had a few things stored at our grandparents’ home in Los Angeles. Mostly pictures and a few memories. Poor Persy. She always got my hand-me-downs when I grew out of my clothes. We never had money to go to Disneyland, buy a car, or buy the latest toys they advertised on the television.
The reality was different. We weren’t poor. We had enough money to live. It was easier to give my sister my hand-me-downs rather than purchasing something we already owned and she’d outgrow soon. There wasn’t a point to owning a car, a house, or furniture if we were always going from one archeological site to another.
My parents were practical. They tried to teach us that material things aren’t as important as our family. Most of all, they taught us to pursue our dreams.
That’s not the way I saw it while growing up though. I swore I wouldn’t be like them. While in college, I worked my ass off to get straight A’s and also to earn enough money to buy a car, a home, and have whatever my heart desired. Once I became a lawyer, I saved enough money for a down payment to buy a house. Since then I’ve upgraded my car three times and I bought a bigger house because it’s a great investment.
My sisters and I go on vacation at least twice a year. In hindsight, I have everything I wanted while growing up.
However, it’s while Eros and Persy are making deals and really reaching for what they want that everything hits me at once. I’m in somewhat of a rut. Again, everyone who sees my life from the outside might think, Nyx has her shit together. Look at her kicking ass in court, owning the latest luxury car, and wearing the trendiest clothes.
For years, I’ve neglected my dreams. Actually, I don’t even know what it is that I want out of life. I’ve been taking care of everyone around me. Eros, who is the oldest of us, needs a full-time babysitter. That’s me. I adore my big brother, but he’s a man child. I have to get him out of the contracts he signs, and he’s always looking for the next big thing that’ll get him his first million dollars while he’s helping others.
Then, there’s Persy. She’s only ten months younger than me. We’re like twins, and even though she’s pretty self-sufficient,