My stomach was the first thing to wake me up in the morning. I hoped that Alex didn’t hear my insides obnoxiously rumbling, but he rolled over and grunted, alerting me that he was awake.

“Did you say something?” he asked sleepily.

“Nothing,” I squeaked. “I’m starving, though.”

Alex stretched out, his hand reaching out toward my belly, which rumbled again in response. “Okay, okay,” he said, drawing the covers back. He scratched his bare chest, his underwear riding low on his hips. Throughout the night, I kept waking to feel his smooth skin and well-defined muscles. It wasn’t fair that he had looks, brains, charm, and money.

“Do you want any help?” I asked.

“No, I’ve got it,” he said. “I’ve got some eggs. We can have that with some toast. I’ll be right back.”

Once he left, I retreated to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and scrubbed my face. I found a hairbrush in the cupboard and tried to tame my tangled mane. Then, I allowed myself into Alex’s closet for something clean to wear. I found an old t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts and slipped them on. I held the collar of the soft, thin shirt up to my nose and breathed deeply. It smelled so nice and fresh.

Alex’s apartment was especially clean for a bachelor pad. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who cared about cleanliness. I assumed he had a housekeeping service that came every few days. His place was a little too pristine for him to do it on his own.

I couldn’t imagine having such a disposable income that I could hire someone to clean my place. Of course, I could never imagine living in a big enough place in New York that I even had to worry about making a mess.

I wandered out into the kitchen to the smell of burned food. I pulled the shirt over my nose, shielding myself from the smell. Alex was running around, pulling the windows open so the smoke detector wouldn’t go off. I grabbed a towel and fanned the smoke toward the open window. When the smoke cleared, he stood by the stove, his hands on his hips and a look of resignation on his face.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I don’t really know,” he said, pulling a blackened piece of toast from the toaster. Then, he opened the trashcan and scraped out some rubbery eggs, speckled with shells. “I thought I could do this.”

I frowned. “How do you usually feed yourself?” I asked.

He looked at the floor for a moment. “I don’t really cook,” he admitted. “If I don’t go out to eat, then I order food. Or, I have someone who comes in a few times a week to cook for me.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” I asked. “I could have helped you.”

He pursed his lips. “I thought it would be nice to make breakfast for you, since you’re the guest and all. And, it’s kind of annoying when you’re better than me at something.”

I grabbed the pan and the spatula from him and smiled to myself. I liked when he admitted that I was good at things. Now, I just had to prove myself as slightly competent in the kitchen.

In no time, I managed to whip up the same breakfast he destroyed just moments before. I also made a fruit salad to go along with it. I found it funny that he had a fridge stocked with ingredients, but no means to cook any of it. He looked a little sheepish as we sat down to eat, but was fine once his stomach was full.

“Have you ever considered going to a cooking class?” I asked. “I’m sure you have some chef friends who could help you out a little.”

He shrugged. “It seems like that would take a lot of time. I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

“I’m sure if you hired more interns, you could buy yourself a little time,” I joked.

Alex sighed and shook his head. “I wish it were that simple. You forget that someone has to direct the interns. Sometimes, that takes more work than just doing the stuff myself. My income can buy me a lot of conveniences. What money cannot buy me is more time. If I had free time, I wouldn’t have money.”

He seemed less bright and happy than usual. Most of the time, he wore a sarcastic smirk on his face. Now, he seemed actually down.

“Sure, but isn’t there a work-life balance that comes in time,” I said. “Maybe in a few years, you’ll find that less work falls upon your shoulders. How do other people at your firm do it?”

“They don’t, that’s the thing,” he groaned. “People use coke to keep their energy up, then use downers to get themselves to sleep for a few hours. No one has a good relationship with their partners or kids because they’re never home. Sometimes, it’s easier to have a casual hookup at a nearby hotel than commute all the way home to be with your wife. It’s not like that for everyone, but it’s also not rare. You know this, right? I don’t think it’s possible to be a hedge funder and be truly happy in all aspects of life.”

I frowned. I didn’t expect to be as rich and flashy as Alex one day, but I did see myself living a nice, peaceful life. I figured the first few years of working would be hard, but once I started to get into the rhythm, things would be good. I would be able to pay off my student loans and maybe even buy some property. Then, once my personal finances were in order, I could start to worry about other things like relationships and starting a family. I figured all of these things would just naturally come with time.

“I’m pretty sure my dad never had these problems,” I argued. “From what I heard about our life back then, he was doing just fine.”

“Maybe, but do you think your mom told you stories about when times were tough? Has she ever talked about getting into fights with him because she was home with you and your brother and he was enjoying drinks with the boys? I’m sure their relationship was fine, but why would your mom ever recount a negative story about him?”

What he said made sense. My mom always talked about how proud she was of me for following in his footsteps, but maybe that was because it was like having a piece of him around. Besides, when a loved one dies, you don’t sit around talking about that person’s shortcomings. You just remember the good times. Now, I wasn’t sure what to think about the career path that I was so sure about. I had never really stopped to question if there was any reason to go into that line of work besides the fact that it was what my dad did. With the weeks counting down before I had my college degree finished, I was starting to question everything.

“Don’t tell me that you hate your job,” I said nervously. “I’ve read interviews that you’ve done in different magazines. You give tips to college kids, and you’ve never told them not to do what you’re doing. Is this just Sunday wearing down on you?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just life. Maybe what I do isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

I frowned. I didn’t like where he was going with this conversation. I was actually looking forward to hearing more about what he did.

“It’s been my lifelong dream to do what my dad did,” I said, more for my reassurance than his. “I’ve had this clear goal in mind for years. I’ve mapped out my entire life to get to the point where I can achieve these things. When I read about how much you’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time, I am inspired. I thought that if you could be successful at age twenty-six, I could reasonably get what I wanted by then. You said yourself that I have a bright future in the business.”

Alex got up and put his dishes in the sink, probably for his housekeeper to take care of later. “I meant that. You just have to be prepared for disappointment. It’s not completely inconceivable that you’ll have a good home life or a great career. You just can’t expect to have it all. Somewhere, you will fall short.”

I took my dishes to the sink. Suddenly, I wasn’t very hungry anymore.

“Why can you have it all, but I can’t?” I challenged.

He smiled wearily. “First of all, I wouldn’t describe myself as having it all. Secondly, I fell into this business. When my dad retired, I took his spot. I inherited most of his clients and didn’t have to go out and take internships and apply like most people do. I was just there. I was good at it, but it was never really a choice. If you’re born into the royal family, you don’t choose to become a plumber. Sometimes I wonder if I would be happier as a plumber.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Okay, so maybe not a plumber, but you get the idea. The lifestyle I live is pretty great, for the most part. But, when you get down to it, why do you want to be a hedge fund manager?”

I opened my mouth to give my pre-written answer that I told everyone.

“And, don’t mention anything about your late father’s influence on you,” he interrupted before I could get my answer out.

I thought for a moment. I really couldn’t think of any other reason. I knew I probably could in any other circumstance. I was just flustered at this particular moment.

“See,” he said smugly. “I think you’re very smart and resourceful. I also think you have a kind heart and a gentle disposition. Now, tell me what you want to get out of a career?”

I wanted to say something about helping people, but my mind kept flashing to the magazine cover I once saw Alex’s face on. I remember wanting that so badly. If I were rich and successful, I could show everyone that I wasn’t the weird little girl from Hazelwood. I would be throwing the parties, not lurking outside, wishing I could be invited.

Seeing as I was speechless, he spoke first. “I’ll tell you what I want out of a career. Ever since I started in the family business, I’ve realized that it all seems shallow. I’ve benefitted from the system that I’m currently working in. Rich people give me their money and I invest in things that will give them more money. Then, I take a big cut of it. There’s nothing more to it. The companies we invest in get something out of it, but it’s not like all of the investments necessarily do good in the world. I mean, people invest in petroleum all the time, even though it would do the world more good to invest in things like solar energy. We throw money at companies that make personal gadgets that are necessary, but we don’t always give a shit about technology that can help people live better lives. I make money and I make other people money, but it doesn’t make much of an impact in the grand scheme of things. The job is very limited.”

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “You’re telling me that the guy who dishes advice all over the place hates his job?”

He shrugged. “I’m not saying I hate it. I just know I could be doing more.”

I wanted to be angry with him for misleading me, but when it came down to it, he had never been anything other than truthful with me. In fact, he was often quite blunt. I was the one who chose to ignore what he was saying. Perhaps he was right about everything, and I was the one too caught up in my fantasy to think about what I truly wanted. When I heard what he was saying, I realized that I agreed with all of his criticisms of the job. My values were surprisingly in line with his, even though we lived completely different lives. Perhaps I had been chasing a faulty picture my whole life, in hopes that it would fill the missing pieces of my life.

“You look upset,” he said after we sat in silence for a bit.

I shook my head. “I think I’m just confused.”

Alex came over and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I want you to be happy and successful in whatever you do. If you find that in hedge funds, then I’d help you with that. If you decide to change courses, I’d support that, too.”

“Why, though?” I asked. “You don’t have to give me any help. You don’t have to give me any advice out of what you tell your normal students.”

He smiled and nuzzled his face in the top of my messy hair. “You’re not just one of my regular students. I actually give a shit about what happens to you.”

“Why?” I asked, still in disbelief that I was spending this much time in close quarters with Alex.

“Who knows?” he mused. “But, I’m very clearly into you, and if I can’t show you normal signs of affection, then I can at least give you my knowledge.”

My heart sped up. “Thanks,” I said softly.

“You still seem worried,” he said, looking concerned.

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

He took my hand in his and gave it a kiss. “I think I know something that might help.”