Page 12 of A Good Book

“I’m leaning toward criminal law, but I have a friend who’s interested in tort law, and he thinks we should open our own firm someday.”

I nodded slowly.

“Do you know what tort law is?”

Again, I nodded. Then I grinned and shook my head. “I have no idea.”

“Tort is a civil wrongful act. Like harm to someone or their personal property. It can either be from an intentional act or negligence such as car accidents, medical malpractice, vandalism, defamation.”

“I see. Sounds exciting.”

“I suppose. It’s not as exciting as studying the brain or why humans behave the way they do, but it’s interesting and challenging in other ways.”

The server delivered our drinks. I stirred my Slice with the straw. “My mom thinks I’ll end up changing my major. She said that most students do.”

“Why did you choose psychology?” Matt set his straw on the table and sipped his Pepsi straight from the glass.

“Honestly?” I rolled the straw between my fingers.

Matt nodded.

“Two incidents led me to consider this path. There was this boy in my class whose parents were having marital issues, and my dad counseled them. But I overheard that boy talking to one of his friends about how ridiculous it was for them to let my dad get involved since he’s not a real therapist. But the couple stayed married, and I thought it was pretty cool my dad played a part in it. Then after the accident four years ago, a lot of students visited the school counselor, including me because I wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t my dad. That’s when I knew I wanted to help others in that way too.”

“That’s awesome, Gabriella.”

Matt’s compliment gave me a warm, tingly sensation all over. I loved when he called me by my full name. Just him. When my parents or sisters said it, it sounded condescending.

“So tell me about Ben. How long has he been your boyfriend?”

“What? No. I told you he’s not my boyfriend. What did you say your girlfriend’s name is? Oh, that’s right, you didn’t tell me.”

The server delivered our garlic bread. Matt nodded for me to take one first.

“Her name is Julianne.”

“What’s she studying?” I blew on the garlic bread before taking a bite.

“Engineering.”

I blotted my mouth with my napkin. Of course he would be with an ambitious, smart woman. I imagined she had long hair, defined arms, perfect cheekbones, and flawlessly applied makeup.

Pierced ears.

A collection of high heels.

And she probably knew sixty-nine.

How was my offer to bake bread and pop out babies while counseling married couples or troubled kids supposed to compare to a Julianne who would go on to design things like bridges or rocket ships?

Ugh!

“Sarah was never going to be an engineer.” I let her be the sacrificial lamb instead of pointing to my own shortcomings.

Matt barked a laugh. “From what I’ve heard, she’s doing just fine. Have you seen her perform?”

I pressed my lips together and nodded. Sarah wasn’t the favorite child, but she was well on her way to being a very successful performer. She had the voice and charisma that bled talent when she stood on a stage with a guitar in her hands.

Again, I thought of ironing clothes and breastfeeding babies while my dream husband wore a suit and tie, winning cases in a courtroom. Were my standards too low?

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