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Lecture after lecture from my parents has drilled into me the only route I know in life.

I look up at Tom and nod, taking a sip of wine. “I’m really sorry.”

He sits back again and folds his arms across his chest just as our dinner arrives. “Might as well eat this, and then I’ll drop you back at your place.”

The rest of my “date”with Tom could be best described as awkward.

As always, he was polite and even offered to foot the bill, which ran into hundreds of dollars. But I couldn’t allow him to do that, so I paid my share before he dropped me back at my apartment.

And that’s where I am now, having changed into a pair of sweats and an old hoodie. I then watered all of my house plants and made myself a hot chocolate with whipped cream.

Folding my feet underneath me, I sit on my couch and reach for my sketch pad and calligraphy pen set. Pinks and purples today.

I started calligraphy last year when I took a random course with my super-gifted niece, Ava. In my day job as a lawyer, it’s hard to get creative, and there’s always that itch in my brain that wants to express itself.

Maybe it’s a way to switch off since my mind is constantly on the go, searching for the next thing.

But no sooner have I started than I’m interrupted by my cell phone vibrating on the coffee table. I reach over and grab it. “Violet” lights up the screen. I can’t remember the last time I referred to her as “Mom.”

“Hi.”

“Kate, how are you?”

You’d never think she was calling her daughter, more her assistant or colleague.

I set my sketch pad to the side and pick up my mug, holding the warmth in my hands while I prop the phone between my ear and shoulder.

Might as well get comfortable.

“Pleased it’s the weekend. How are you both?”

“Why? Has work been intense?” she asks, entirely glossing over my question.

“No. Just ready to relax. I broke it off with Tom tonight, and that was intense.”

“What do you mean?”

My brows knit together in confusion. “About Tom? Well, I?—”

“No, no. I mean about work. It shouldalwaysbe intense.”

I set my mug down and take hold of my phone. I’d happily throw it across the room if I didn’t think it would break.

“It is intense, but I’m used to this kind of pressure. It doesn’t mean I don’t need downtime.”

“Your father and I never had downtime; that leaves a chance for everyone else to catch up,” she guffaws.

“Not everything is a competition, Violet,” I say quietly, shifting on the couch and mindlessly playing with the tassels on the soft blue blanket draped over my knees.

“Huh, well, it is in the firm we run.”

“Did you call for a reason?” I abruptly change course.

“Yes. Your brother is returning home for the weekend next week. It’s an impromptu visit, and since he’s been in Dubai for six months, we thought you’d want to see him. Only him, though; Ava is staying with her mom.”

I’m surprised Easton hasn’t told me he’s coming since we’re pretty close. Between us, we’ve shared the burden of pressure to succeed, handed down by our parents. My older brother has definitely succeeded, though, owning a multi-national private equity firm.

“I’ll be there,” I say, taking another sip of hot chocolate.