My phone pings with a text from Dad.
Dad: Your mother and I will be in Manhattan in two weeks. Please organize a dinner with Austin in attendance.
“Fuck,” I voice loudly, then show Eric the text.
Eric covers his face then lets out a groan. “It’s just one shitshow after another.”
“It’ll be fine,” I tell myself, then exhale. “Austin has done this before with my parents.”
Then, the realization of Austin’s ties with my family again reminds me that I am second best. Millie is right. I’m walking in her shadows. Suddenly, a burning sensation inside my chest makes me question my entire life.
And this only leads to one thing—anger.
“Yes, he has. He’s even asked Lex for his daughter’s hand in marriage,” Eric carelessly reminds me.
The muscles on my face tighten as I adopt a sullen look.
“Right? Austin has done this all before. Lucky him,” I sneer.
My anger shifts toward Austin now, the blame game very real in my head.
“C’mon, Ava.” Eric laughs softly. “Even you must admit this situation looks, how shall I say it, contrived.”
My chest thrusts out, but I try to control my breathing and not tear Eric apart as the anger festers within me.
“Have you thought about how we should tell people? I can’t hide this anymore, Eric.”
“The issue is not your bump. It’s who stuck their weenie in you and made that bump happen.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I can’t win!”
“Ava, sweetheart, calm down.”
“No, Eric. I am the one who’s labeled a whore. I’m the one who is supposedly after my sister’s scraps. I’m the one who will always be second best!”
“Nobody is saying that,” he assures me.
“But everyone is thinking it?” I snap, my eyes wide while waiting for Eric to argue my point. When he chooses to remain quiet, I laugh faintly. “That’s right. Ava is the evil sister.”
“What the hell is happening here? I’ve heard of hormones, but Jesus Christ, Ava. You’re giving me heart palpitations.”
I stand up, then grab my purse, unable to look Eric in the face.
“I’m going home,” I inform him with a low voice. “I honestly don’t care how you announce it. Either way, I’m to blame.”
With my head fallen, I leave my office with the intent of going home, but during my walk, the anger only intensifies, and there is only one person with a target straight in the middle of their chest.
“Ava?” Austin calls upon opening the door to my loud knock. “What are you doing here?”
He is dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, with hair styled in casual disarray. The scent of his aftershave lingers, and he seems to be freshly showered like he is going out on a date.
“Are you going out on a date?” I blurt out.
Austin tilts his head. “No, I am going out with some friends.”
“Girlfriends?”
“Yes, there are women in my group of friends.”