Gavin finally noticed us.
“You actually came.”
“Mom asked me to,” I replied.
Naomi barely looked up.
“We didn’t know whether you two were coming, so we didn’t order anything for you.”
Caleb glanced at me.
The rest of the table continued eating as though nothing unusual had happened.
A waiter approached.
“Would you like a menu, sir?”
Before I could answer, Naomi spoke.
“One should be enough. Caleb probably already ate.”
Then she gave a small laugh.
“He’ll be fine. He’s used to going without.”
Nobody said anything.
A few people smiled awkwardly.
My son lowered his eyes.
He didn’t argue.
He didn’t look angry.
He simply began rubbing a tiny breadcrumb between his fingers.
That hurt more than if he had cried.
“I’d like two menus,” I said.
The waiter hesitated.
“One for the young gentleman as well?”
I looked directly at Naomi before answering.
“Yes. And bring him what I usually order when we’re at the Four Seasons.”
Suddenly, the table became very quiet.
Gavin’s expression changed.
Naomi finally looked directly at me.
I didn’t explain myself.
I simply gave Caleb a small wink.
There was something my family had never understood about me.
They thought I was struggling.
And for years, I had never bothered correcting them.
Growing up, Gavin and I had been close.
I was the older brother who helped him with homework, defended him when other kids bothered him, and occasionally took the blame when he broke something.
But somewhere between college and adulthood, our roles changed.
Gavin followed the path everyone respected.
Law school.
Corporate firm.
Expensive suits.
Professional titles.
I chose technology consulting.
I started my own company.
For several years, things were difficult.
Apparently, my family decided those early struggles defined the rest of my life.
Mom once told me, “Luke, you’ve always chosen the difficult path.”
Maybe I had.
But the difficult path eventually became profitable.
Very profitable.
I simply never advertised it.
I drove a normal car.
I didn’t wear designer clothes.
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