Page 93 of Bold

“You want me to be your partner in the mysterious business you’re going to own but don’t know what you’re going to do or how you’ll make money? Sounds like a solid life plan for me. We’ll be rich.”

She rolls her eyes, but I can see she likes the idea of building something with me.

“We’re sixteen; we don’t have to have it all figured out yet. We have years to make mistakes and figure it out.”

Sunday grows quiet and looks down into the blue water. “You have years. You have the option to make mistakes. I have parents who are constantly breathing down my neck about perfection.”

“They put too much pressure on you.” These words couldn’t be truer. In fact, they are a total understatement.

Sunday’s parents do more than just put pressure on her. They are critical and harsh and demand nothing less than excellence in all parts of her life.

She looks up, and her expression turns to stone. “I’m never going to be like them, Braze. My kids are going to eat ice cream for breakfast, and I’m going to support all of their dreams.”

I don’t doubt that—at least the second part. Sunday will be a great mom some day.

“They’ll be lucky to have you as a mom despite the unhealthy nature of their eating habits, and they’ll be even more fortunate because they’ll have the most amazing uncle in the world.”

“You think you’ll still be my best friend by the time I’m popping out kids? Forget you! I’m going to marry the man of my dreams and leave you to fiddle around with your hands while you call yourself boss.”

Rock. Rock. Tip.

This time, I really flip us into the water. I close my mouth and sink below the surface. A foot jams into my ribs, and the salt water goes up my nose. I’m cracking up by the time I get to the surface.

“You are such an asshole.”

Sunday is swimming fast toward me, and I plunge under the surface and kick hard to escape her retaliation.

“Get back here, or I’m going to convince your wife to name your firstborn child Hashtag.”

“Hashtag Hale. I don’t hate it. Thanks!”

I kick harder through the water as Sunday gets closer. She disappears under the surface, and a second later, she latches on to my leg and yanks, pulling me under with her.

We wrestle back and forth like siblings. Each of us is an only child, so we’re the closest each other has to brother and sister. We don’t even notice our boards have started to drift away. It isn’t like Sunday was using it effectively anyway.

We spend our day where most Florida kids do on the weekend—under the sun, on the beach, and in the water. Our dreams for the future are laid out in theory. We plan a life that can’t be predicted or sculpted however. Life happens, and most of the time, we have no say in the outside forces that will affect us. But we can choose the people in our lives, and I’m certain Sunday will always be part of mine.

---