“Only Dad died,” I correct him.
Aslan looks at me, ignoring Ly’s nonsense. “I pretended to be with Keaton to keep Dawn happy. What’s your excuse?”
I tell him about Atzi’s grandmother. They already know how she’s mostly on her own. Which is why she spends more time with us during holidays than she does with her family.
Gatsby shakes his head. “I understand why you want to do it, but you’re a terrible liar.”
“More like he can’t bend the rules and refuses to bend the truth,” Hux corrects him. “You won’t be able to make it believable. If you want, I can take your place.”
“I agree with them,” Elliot says. “It’s a bad idea. They’re going to catch you immediately.”
“You can’t lie to save your life,” Aslan adds.
He’s wrong though. I hate lying and don’t see the point in doing it unless it’s extremely necessary. I have been pretending for years I don’t love Atzi, and as far as I know, she still believes I just see her as a friend.
“Don’t do it,” Hux says.
“I have to.”
“Because Atzi needs you to do it, and you love her so much you’d do anything for her.” It’s not a question. Lysander is just confirming what everyone knows. Well, everyone but Atzi.
“I explained to you why I’m going to do it.”
“I don’t agree with you. Why did you accept?” Gatsby is trying to find the logic to this problem.
“Actually, I offered.”
Gatsby hits his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Have we mentioned that this is a terrible idea?”
“Five times, maybe?” Lysander groans. “For how long are you pretending to be madly in love with the love of your life?” My brother gloats as he makes this sound like this is the most moronic thing anyone has done in the history of life.
“I don’t know. Her grandparents arrive on Sunday.”
“Where are they staying?”
They’re throwing so many questions, I don’t even know who’s talking anymore, but I answer immediately. “In my guest room. Can we stop with the interrogation?”
“You have to alert the entire family and keep them away from Mom,” Lysander warns me.
“What if they expect you to marry her?” Caspian throws the question to the mix. Then tosses his hands up in the air. “I need a drink. Of all the stupid things we’ve done in our lives, this one is the worst.”
“And he’s done very, very stupid things,” Gatsby confirms. “We’ll never forget his wedding in Vegas.”
“This is different. We’ll break up in a couple of weeks,” I assure them.
“You should just marry her,” Aslan says, as if that fixes everything in life.
“Things between us are not like that.” My voice is loud and defensive. They’re starting to irritate the fuck out of me.
“You’re in love with her.” Gatsby pats my shoulder and hands me a tumbler with whiskey. “I just don’t understand why you don’t act on your feelings. One of these days, a guy will swoop in, and you’ll be crying in a corner.”
I refuse to explain to them why it wouldn’t work out for Atzi and me. I doubt they’d understand, sometimes it’s hard for me to see the logic.
“Please, enlighten us. Why can’t you just act on your feelings?” Aslan insists.
They don’t understand my explanation might open wounds I’m not willing to tend to anymore. The past is where it belongs. “Atzi and I want different things. Besides, I’m leaving for New York in a couple of weeks.”
Aslan’s eyes land on me. His nostrils flare. “What do you mean?”
I scrub my face. This isn’t how I want to tell them, but I guess it’s out.
“They accepted you at Columbia?” Gatsby mumbles. “What about the others? Didn’t you apply for San Francisco General?”
I shrug a shoulder and don’t correct him or tell him I didn’t apply for anything around the area.
“When were you going to tell us?” Lysander chimes.
“I just found out yesterday.” I shrug as if it’s not a big deal.
“What happened to the other applications?” Gatsby asks, not letting this go.
“I think New York City is the best option,” I say, knowing they might digress if I say anything to the effect of living in SanFran isn’t an option. Not until I’m over Atzi.
“How long will you be there?” Gatsby asks.
“You should try family medicine and open a practice in SanFran,” Aslan suggests.
I glare at him and almost bare my teeth like an angry feline when I say, “I’m a cardiologist.”
“You should set up a practice for that here. Why do you need this fellowship?” Aslan insists.
“I want to make sure people get treated before they die.” I know it’s a stupid answer, but I’m not going to explain to them why I do what I do.
“As a cardiologist or a—”
“Leave him alone.” Lysander puts himself between Aslan and me. “He’s an excellent doctor, and we can wait for him to come back in a few years.”
But that’s not the plan, and since I can see their worry, I refuse to say anything else.
“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Lysander questions.
I shrug a shoulder slightly. “I don’t know. I might meet someone there and start a new life. What if they offer me a job at a big hospital?”
He puts both hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “And Atzi?”
“We’re not compatible.”
He snickers. “I call bullshit.”
“That’s the most stupid thing I’ve heard in my life. You’ve been in love with her since you met her. You’re perfect for each other,” Aslan argues.
“She wants a family. I don’t.”
Gatsby is about to speak when Lysander puts a hand in front of him. “Leave him alone. He’s free to live his life however he sees fit.”
“We’re losing him. You understand that, don’t you?” Gatsby argues.
Lysander shakes his head. “Caspian lives in Oregon during the season. You travel to New York and San Diego often.”
“But my roots are here,” Gatsby barks.
Huxley claps his hands. “Stop this before it becomes a fight.” He pats my shoulder. “I’m going to miss you, but putting all that BS aside, I think you should tell our sisters your plan and get everyone on board before you fuck this for Atzi.”
Lysander nods. “The kid is right.”
“Don’t call me kid. I’m old enough to drink—and run a bar.” Hux glares at him.
“We should meet in Santa Cruz this Saturday,” Elliot suggests. “Actually, if you can, we can arrive there tomorrow evening. We’ll talk to the wives and then make sure these two lovebirds get it right. There’s an art to pretending to have a different life.”
I swallow. “It can’t be that hard.”
Elliot smirks. “If that’s what you think, then you’re screwed.”
I feel as if I’m about to take the MCAT and all my knowledge has been ripped out of my brain. This is worse than the dream where the principal of my high school tells me I never graduated, and I have to go back to school.