Page 62 of The Second Chance Year

“Well, are you one hundred percent sure you’re done with him?” He leans forward in his chair. “I’m only asking because I don’t want to shit-talk him and then have you turn around and get back with him later. That never ends well.”

I wave my hand in a have-at-it gesture. “Shit-talk away.”

Owen opens his mouth and then closes it. He frowns. “Well, now that I know I’m allowed, I don’t really feel like it. I mean, hewasincredibly wrong for you, but he was an okay dude.”

I sit up straight. “If you thought he was wrong for me, why didn’t you say something when we were dating?”

“Seriously?” Owen shakes his head. “Please refer back toit never ends well.”

“Well, you’re right. Alexwasincredibly wrong for me.” I slump back against the couch cushions. “But Mom and Dad are still devastated.”

“Areyoudevastated? What do you care if they are?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Says the son who literally never devastates them.”

He gets up out of his chair and goes into the kitchen. I hear the refrigerator door open and glass clinking around. A minute later, Owen is back holding two bottles of beer. He hands me one and takes a long swig of the other.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know.” Owen drops back into his chair.

“What are you talking about?”

“Being the good son. I realize it’s obnoxious to be like,Woeis me, my parents love me too much, but… you’ve met them. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“Really?” I squint at him across the room. “It never seemed like a lot of pressure. They’ve always been thrilled to support you to do all the computer-y stuff you like.”

Owen takes another gulp of his beer and sets it on the side table on top of a hardback copy ofMiddlemarch. “Well, that’s only because I did the computer-y things they approved of.”

“Wait.” I blink at him. “So, you don’t want to be doing… whatever it is that you do? I thought you loved AstRoBot.”

“I mean, I like it. It’s good. It’s fine. But…” He sighs. “When I was a kid, I wanted to design video games.”

“Yeah… I figured that was something you grew out of. Or…” I trail off.Or what?I remember how he was always inventing games on that old basement Mac. And how his eyes lit up with excitement when he described a new idea to me and Jacob over brunch that one day. Gaming has always been a passion for Owen, but I guess it never occurred to me that he might like to do it as a career. His ascension to CTO of AstRoBot has been so meteoric that it’s all anyone ever focused on. “Do Mom and Dad know?”

“Do they know I’d prefer to be designing video games? Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Do they acknowledge or care that this is something that would make me happy?”

This question is about my parents, so therefore, rhetorical. “Right.”

Owen drains his beer. “I’ve always admired your ability to basically say,Screw itand be who you want to be. I tell myself I’m going to quit and give this game idea a chance, but I keep getting all these promotions, and Mom and Dad are so damnproud…”

I get it. When your role has been clearly laid out for your entire life, it’s not easy to pivot to being someone else. This past year has been a big, fat lesson for me. “Well, for the record,I’dsupport you one hundred percent if you wanted to torch your job and follow your dream, Owen.”

“Thanks.”

“And Jacob would, too,” I add. “He’s a really good friend.”

“Is he?” Owen narrows his eyes at me. “How would you know?”

And to my great mortification, I blush. “Well, uh—”

Owen leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s with the two of you? You guys never even spoke for years. And all of a sudden, you’re planning birthday parties together and bonding over your mutual friendship with some old lady, and, like”—he waves a hand at me—“saying stuff like that about each other.”

My heart seizes on that last part. “IsJacobsaying stuff like that about me, too?”

Owen crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a death stare. “Why do you care?”

“I—” WhydoI care? With a sharp inhale, I picture Jacob at the piano playing that beautiful, haunting song. Making me smile when I was upset with my parents. Jumping in to help me decorate piles of cupcakes for Owen’s birthday. Breaking the world speed record to come and get me from the steps of a Brooklyn brownstone just because I called and asked him to.

Tangled up with me on the couch.

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