The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(16)

Something dropped in my stomach the moment that last word registered. And it tumbled further down when she ended the call a few seconds later and stood with a jolt, barely looking at me.

“I need to go.” She scrambled for her things. “I’m sorry. It’s my dad.” Her hand shot for her purse, snatching it a little too briskly and dropping it to the floor. “Dammit.”

“Rosie,” I said, kneeling with her to pick up the things that had tumbled out of her bag. My joints complained fiercely but I ignored the pain as I picked up her keys and something that looked like a lipstick bar. “Hey, Rosie?” I searched her gaze, placing the items in her hands, and when she didn’t look at me, I slid my fingers to her wrists. Her skin was warm, soft. I squeezed gently but firmly. Just enough to get her attention.

Her gaze finally met mine.

“Take a breath,” I instructed.

She obeyed, filling her lungs with air while we remained crouching on the floor, facing each other.

“Do you need me to come with you?” I said very slowly. “You are a little shaken.”

“What?” Her features softened. “That’s… No. It’s okay.” She took in another breath. “I’m being silly. Dad’s probably fine. It’s his hip. An old injury, but he slipped, and a neighbor called an ambulance. He didn’t even need me. He was calling because Mrs. Hull threatened to. Anyway, I was going to go to Philly today either way. So it’s okay.”

Words of reassurance rose to the tip of my tongue, but she distracted me by standing up.

I followed suit, taking extra care not to lean my weight on my right side so we wouldn’t have a repeat of last night.

Rosie pulled out her wallet, extracted a few twenties, and placed them on top of the table. “Here.” She smiled before pinning me with a serious look. “I think this will cover our tab.”

Our tab?

I shook my head. “Rosie, no. You don’t have to.”

“Take it,” she insisted. “Please, Lucas.”

“Rosie…” I trailed off. But what did I expect after telling her I’d lost my card and that I only had a few bucks with me. God. I was a zopenco, like Abuela loved to call me when I pulled off something this stupid.

She smiled. “I better go, now.” She took a step away from the booth. “I’ll be back to the apartment to pick up all my things in the evening. Okay?”

“Good luck.” I nodded my head. “And… thank you, Rosie. I’m returning this, I promise. I wasn’t joking when I said I’m in your debt.”

A new emotion crossed her face. “See you later, Lucas.”

I watched her as she approached the exit of the diner, and just before she walked out, I called, “Oh, and please, don’t tell your dad about me eating his sausage rolls! I’d like to make a good first impression.”

She didn’t turn around, but just as the glass door closed behind her, I heard her laugh.

It was a sweet sound. Soft and guarded, just like her.

“Ah shit,” I said under my breath, looking down at my empty mug and the borrowed bills. “Lina me va a cortar las pelotas.”





CHAPTER FIVE


Rosie


Olly didn’t show up at the station.

A part of me wasn’t even surprised. I guess I had expected him to blow me off. But that hadn’t softened the blow when he dodged my call—again—and shot me a text that read: Can’t make it, big sis. Sorry.

Luckily, once I arrived in Philly, I discovered that Dad was fine, just a little sore from his fall. Not that he’d admit it. Oh no. At home, he’d refused to lie down, take painkillers, or let me prepare tea or food for him. Repeatedly. But that was Joe Graham for you. “I’m fine, Bean,” he’d said about a thousand times. Following that up with “I relied enough on you when your mother left all these years ago, Bean. You shouldn’t worry, Bean. Why did you take a day off work to come fuss over your old man, Bean? You are a team leader now, Bean. People depend on you. Have you heard from Olly, by the way? He’s okay, isn’t he, Bean?”

So, by the time I was taking the train back to Manhattan, my lie tally was the same, if not higher after covering for my little brother—again—and I was so emotionally drained from dealing with a stubborn Dad that I no longer had the energy to guilt-trip Olly.

And then there was Lucas.

Something took flight in my stomach, making me feel giddy and nervous and all kinds of flustered at the thought of him.

Here I was, a mostly reasonable and independent woman, feeling like a sixteen-year-old fussing over the idea of seeing her crush.

Only Lucas Martín wasn’t my crush. Nope. He was a man I didn’t really know, whose online presence on social media I had… appreciated a perfectly normal amount.

He was also a man I had spilled a good portion of my guts to only this morning. And it had felt good. Not just fine, but good.

And now here we were. Him, on the other side of Lina’s door, probably wondering if I was going to show up at all, given the time, and who knows, maybe considering throwing my ginormous, messy pile of belongings out the window if I didn’t. No, because he would never do that, a voice countered. And me, standing in the hallway, staring at that door for a wildly inappropriate amount of time wishing I had X-ray vision so I could… So I could what?