Through Her Eyes by Ava Harrison Page B

and you can’t decide which way to go at the fork in the road—left or right. Do what others want or what you want. This, Aria, this is your first day trying to choose which direction you should go.”
    “I don’t want to work for my dad,” I blurt out of nowhere, and I’m starting to think there is something wrong with me and my mood swings. I’ve no idea why I said something so random. I’m totally losing it. Chase doesn’t miss a beat.
    “What made you decide to go into the family business?” he asks.
    “Well, I don’t actually work for him yet. I was set to start.”
    “That’s right, sabbatical. If you don’t want to then why are you?”
    “I have no clue.”
    “Come on there’s got to be a reason.”
    “I never felt I had a choice. Twenty-two and I already have a corner office with my name on the door. For the last ten years, I thought it was all I wanted. I can’t remember what I wanted before then. I can’t remember what my dreams were before I started living the reality that was meant for someone else. It didn’t matter what I dreamed of. I never had a choice. It was made for me. One day my life changed, and I needed to succeed, if not for me then for him.”
    I felt I needed to succeed to atone for Owen’s death. It would never happen, but for some reason I thought it would make it better. Maybe my mother would treat me nicer if I was more like him, and in turn maybe my father would notice me. My mother was never nice to me, but after Owen died, something in her broke. I would have done anything for her approval growing up, even if it meant living a life I hated. It made no difference to her, and it certainly didn’t make my dad see me. No matter how much I pretended, Owen was still gone. He’s still gone.
    “For whom, Aria?” he asks as if the source of my pain matters to him.
    “My brother, Owen. He was being groomed to take over. But with Owen gone . . .” I stare blankly into the distance, fighting back the memory threatening to drown me.
    “What happened?” I turn my gaze back to him. He has himself raised up on an elbow, his head tilted, his brow raised with concern.
    “I . . . can we not talk about this actually?”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
    At that moment, the waitress decides to bring over the wine that Chase must have requested when he ordered in Italian earlier. I welcome the interruption. Much needed wine. As she walks away, Chase’s attention lands back on me. He picks up his glass, and his eyes lock on mine.
    “Cheers to the ones who cross our paths, the journeys we take, and cheers to the people who come into our lives, even if only for a brief moment to teach us something about ourselves.”
    “Yeah. Still existential.” Chase throws back his head and lets out a boisterous laugh. It’s infectious, and I quickly join in. A few minutes pass, and our waitress returns with a pizza pie. This time she isn’t smiling, obviously giving up on her attempts. I reach across the table, and my fingertips meet Chase’s as I grab for a slice. He lifts an eyebrow as I take a bite and swallow.
    “So, what do you think of the pizza?
    “Oh, it’s so good. I love it. It’s different from the pizza we get back home, isn’t it?”
    “It’s funny. As a New Yorker I think our pizza is the best, but this . . . this is in a category of its own. There’s absolutely no comparison.”
    When we finally leave the restaurant, the area surrounding us is vibrant and full of life. Together, we walk back to the hotel, leaving each other in the lobby with a soft kiss on each cheek.
    When in Rome and what not.

    My limbs flail in the bed. I just can’t get comfortable, no matter the position. It feels like a freight train filled with questions and ideas is plowing through my brain, but it’s so disjointed it has no direction. Chase’s words replay over and over again.
    “Have you ever felt like your life was passing you by and you didn’t know how to push pause