Serves Me Wright

They’d both struggled and come from nothing to give me and my brother, Chester, the comfortable lives we enjoyed. My mom just couldn’t understand me giving it up to go backward. At least as far as she saw it.

“Okay, Mom,” I said quickly. I needed to end this call before she went off on one of her rants.

“Well, I don’t mean to interrupt your little concert,” she said, “but I wanted to confirm that you were coming to Austin next weekend for Chester’s graduation. He and Margaret have been planning this party for months. He even got a two-bedroom Airbnb near campus. You know how Dad hates hotels.”

“I do,” I said, my throat tightening.

My brother was…a genius. There was no other way to put it. He’d started winning chess tournaments at seven. He won the National Spelling Bee at twelve. He graduated from high school two years early and had three bachelor’s in four years from Baylor. They’d offered him the most amount of money, which was how he’d chosen them from the two dozen universities that had recruited him. He was only two years older than me and graduating from University of Texas-Austin with his PhD in biochemistry.

I’d never measured up, and going to Austin to celebrate his latest achievement felt like another knife in the chest. But how could I deny them?

“I’ll send over the details to your email. It’ll be good to see Chester and Margaret. I’m so happy he’s in such a stable relationship.”

Unlike me. Though she hadn’t said it, I clenched my teeth together.

“Anyway, we can all drive together on Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?” I asked.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“I have to check my work schedule. I think I’m shooting a senior portrait on Wednesday. I can probably come down Thursday though.”

My mom huffed, “Fine, Thursday then.”

“Okay, Mom. I have to go. Looking forward to it,” I lied.

She tried to keep me on the phone for a few more minutes, and after saying good-bye twice more, I finally got off.

I hung my head. What the hell was I going to do?

5

Julian

“I think that’s all. Thank you so much for your time,” the reporter said.

“It’s my pleasure,” I said.

Jessie lowered her microphone, and the camera stopped rolling. Her smile was bright as she brushed her hair back off her neck. The Texas summer heat was definitely uncomfortable.

“That was great,” she said. “You’re a natural on camera.”

I laughed. “Nah, I’m sure I looked nervous.”

“Were you nervous? You didn’t look it.”

“Thanks. Is there anything else that you need?”

She shook her head. “We’re good. I’ll take this back and edit. Should air tomorrow. We’ll send you a link and the write-up.”

“Perfect.”

“Good to see you, Julian,” she said and then sauntered off with her cameraman.

I blew out a breath as soon as she was gone. I actually hated being on camera. Jordan was the one who did well with public speaking. He was better in front of a camera. Even though I had the charm one-on-one, it was a different matter in front of a crowd. But I was the face of Wright Vineyard. Jordan was counting on me. He’d handed over all the responsibilities, and I had to take up the mantle. That included getting over my nerves with public speaking.

I shook out my hands. A problem for another day.

I headed back inside and watched the end of the show. Our new manager, Alejandra, had tours set up for after the show along with coupons for customers to come back another day for a tasting. She was handling the rest of her team beautifully as Cosmere’s show ended and people streamed out of the venue.

“Congrats, cuz,” Morgan said as she strode backstage with Jensen on her heels.

My Wright cousins were a blessing. They were the part of my family that I’d never known I was missing. It was like having five more siblings. Always up in our business and meaning well and joking and laughing and ready for a good time. Jensen was the oldest and ran Wright Architecture, a passion project that he paired with Fortune 500 Wright Construction, which Morgan ran. Austin also worked there as a senior vice president with Jordan. Landon was the quintessential middle child and a professional golfer. He’d even started a PGA course here in town. Then, there was Sutton, who had rebelled against it all and ran a local bakery in town, Death by Chocolate.

“I didn’t know you were here,” I said, hugging Morgan. Then I shook Jensen’s hand.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” he said with a smile.

“We’re excited to build on the Wright brand,” Morgan said.

Jensen nudged. “No work talk.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Jensen crossed his arms in the typical big-brother move. “I’m older than you.”

She held her hand up. “Don’t care.” She winked at me. “Heard your dad showed up.”