Page 14 of Innocent Bratva Virgin

“I’m in between shifts. How is the first week flying solo?”

My shoulders tensed. For as nice and normal a question as that sounded, I knew it was loaded. Dad was looking for any reason to get me to leave psychiatry and become a real doctor. Hell, at this point I think he’d settle for me being a dentist. But that wasn’t going to happen.

I’d spent too much of my life in hospitals to want to start a career in one. And it wasn’t just my parents’ hours that had kept me there. Familiar panic crawled up the back of my throat, and I had to breathe myself down from the edge.

You’re okay, Emory. You’re fine. Healthy and fine.

“It’s great, Dad. No complaints.”

“Oh, really. Well, your mother says hello.” There was a pause where I knew he was looking for me to fill in the silence, and I forced myself to bite my tongue instead of compulsively speaking. “When are you coming home for dinner?”

I signed, switching the receiver to my other ear as I leaned back in my chair. “I’m not sure, Dad. I have several clients this week, and I need to make sure my notes are ready before coming in the next morning.”

He scoffed that familiar Thompson grumble, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing. I wanted to take it back immediately, apologize, and promise to be over for dinner tomorrow or the next night.

“I—”

I had to stop myself. But dammit. Old habits die hard, and I was so used to doing everything I could to make them happy. It was never enough, though, and when I’d finally stopped doing what they wanted long enough to ask myself whatIactually wished to pursue as a career, it was a real turning point for me.

I hated hospitals and blood, but helping people feel confident and mentally grounded fulfilled me.

And my parents were excellent at making me feel shitty about that.

“I’m sorry, Dad. But you understand how it is.”

“Sure, sure. Well, I expect to see you this weekend. We’re having the Millers over, and your Baba from Milan is flying in for your mother’s promotion party.”

My father was notoriously bad at texting, and apparently, he’d completely forgotten to tell me that Mom had actually gotten her promotion to Chief of Staff. She’d be out of the ER for the most part now, and it would be even more difficult for me to avoid seeing them every freaking day.

“Oh, she got the position. That’s great. Well, okay. I’ll try to make it to the party this weekend, but that’s a bit of short notice. I might have some case notes to fill out.”

Of course, I was not interested in seeing my mother and her stuffy doctor friends brag all night long, nor was I interested in watching my father do the same thing.

“Emory, it’s your mother’s special day this week. You can’t expect her not to have her only child there.”

My stomach clenched, and I was ready to just hang up the phone and let that be “future Emory’s” problem. Being reminded yet again that I was the sole heir to their expectations wasn’twhat I needed right now. It wasn’t my fault that it had been determined that having a second baby would be a risky move.

You’d think they would understand that as doctors familiar with the odds of genetics and medical conditions. Still, that was apparently asking too much of them. And they were so rooted in their traditional ways that I’d been expected to follow in their enormous shoes upon birth. Hanging up really would have been the easier route.

But I just couldn’t.

“I…I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll be there.”

I could hear him clap in the background because my father perpetually took calls on speaker. “Excellent.”

“And try to dress up this time, dear. Oh! And bring someone, for Christ’s sake. How am I going to become a grandmother when you never date.”

All the blood left my face when I realized that my mother had been there the entire time listening.Seriously? Like this couldn’t get any worse?

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying my best to hold in the sigh that threatened to escape. Wouldn’t she be thrilled to learn that I’d finally lost my V-card? And to a one-night stand, no less.

“Of course, Mother. I’ll do my best with a new dress. I’m not seeing anyone, though. As per usual.”

And children were decidedly out of the picture. Leave it to my crappy upbringing and associated health concerns to bury that possibility in the dirt. I was on the best IUD birth control insurance could provide, and that puppy was keeping me free and clear for the next five years.

“Darling, how is it possible that you still don’t have a boyfriend? You’re not some lesbian or something, are you?”

I couldn’t hold back the sigh after that one. Another unfortunate stereotype that my traditional, wealthy parents adhered to was homophobia, and I was so very sick of hearing the bigoted things that flew out of their mouths without warning.

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