the next chapter look like?” she asks, her tone laced with more than simple curiosity.
“You’ll just have to be there with me to find out,” I wink, hoping like hell she will.
Liv smirks but doesn’t say anything as she stands and starts stacking the photos we’ve already gone through back into a box. We’ve searched through hundreds over the past ninety minutes that took me on a time warp of Liv’s life starting when she was a baby through her standing proudly with her new driver’s license. None of the photos are in order as far as I can tell. I flip from a picture of her in a diaper to one of her in high school.
“Who’s this?” I ask, turning the photo for her to see when I notice the back is blank.
She takes a peek at the photo, and I see quick flashes of anger and hurt in her eyes, but she shakes her head as if the action will brush them away. “That’s Matt.”
I examine the picture closer. His smile is too big, and he has curly hair that reminds me of Caleb’s but is shorter and light blond. In the photo, he’s flexing, looking like a complete tool, especially considering his muscles barely pop. I ignore the fact that my mom could probably dig up at least a dozen photos of me at the same age, making the same douche pose, and instead focus on how in the picture, Matt’s looking at the girl with blonde hair rather than at Liv. He’s clearly not the brightest crayon in the box.
“When did you guys start dating?”
“Sixth grade.”
“Sixth grade?” I say, overdramatically, clutching my heart in surprise.
She laughs and nods. “I told you, we’ve known each other forever.”
“That reminds me, what was the photo that Rose was talking about?”
Her blue eyes drop to the mess of pictures on the floor. “It was nothing.”
Silence sinks between us for several minutes as we both flip through more photos. She looks the same and yet different—not just older, but like something is missing from her smile and her bright gaze.
“What do you want to do with your math-techno degree?” I ask.
She folds her legs and sits on her feet, her dark hair over one shoulder. “I have no idea.”
“Really?”
“None. My entire family has always been into the arts. My mom a chef, her best friend in theater, my dad coaching football…” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Somedays, the idea of a desk job is appealing because I’ve watched the stress they’ve endured with highs and lows in their careers and the extra work no one even sees. But then I think about all the passion and love they have for what they do, and sitting in an office feels impossible.”
“So, what would you do if tomorrow you had your dream job? Any job at all, and it was yours, what would it be?”
“I’d write.”
“What?” I expected a play writer or play director or something, considering her degree.
Her cheeks begin to blush again, a beautiful shade of pink that has her blue eyes dropping. “It’s silly, I know.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t expect that at all. I knew you loved the theater, and you’re double-majoring, so I just expected you to say one of those.”
She slowly lifts her gaze to mine. “I used to want to write children’s books. That’s what I always thought I’d do. You know, teach stories about diversity and adversity and strength and confidence and loving yourself, and stuff with cute animals, and sweet plots.” She sighs. “But then after meeting with my academic advisor, we talked about how small that market was and how my math and science grades and test results held promise and how many engineering jobs there are, and so…” She rolls her hands as she explains how those brief conversations led to the change of her entire future.
“Would being an engineer make you happy?”
She pulls in a deep breath. “I don’t know. I mean, there’s more to it than just the task, right? Even though money doesn’t buy happiness, it certainly buys comfort and assurance and other things that a floundering career couldn’t.”
I nod. “I know what you mean. My dad opened his body shop when I was six, and man, he used to work so hard. He was the first one to work and the last to leave. His back always hurt, and he was always dealing with pissed off customers who didn’t want to pay for the