The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(20)

His answer didn’t come for a long moment. “You sure? You just downed a full glass of it.”

Feeling Lucas’s eyes on the side of my head, I finally dared to meet his gaze. He was studying me. “I rarely ever drink.” I sighed. “But today might be a two glasses of wine kind of day. Or week, maybe. Plus, we’re mostly done with the food, so I might need something new to take my mind off things.” He looked a little surprised by my admission and I felt the need to add, “Something that doesn’t involve less clothing.”

Slowly, and almost reluctantly, Lucas poured more of the golden liquid. “Your brother,” he pointed out simply. “You mentioned he’d been dodging your calls. Is that why it’s a two glasses kind of day?”

“You have good memory,” I murmured.

“I’m a good listener.” He returned to his seat across the island, making sure to meet my gaze. “He wasn’t there today, was he? At your dad’s.”

I narrowed my eyes to thin slits. “Who are you? Dr. Phil?”

“Doctor… who?”

“He’s a psychologist and talk show host.” I reached for my glass. “People go on his show, Dr. Phil has a little look inside their souls and boom, uproots and fixes all their deepest concerns.”

Lucas smirked. “Is he handsome? Is that why I remind you of him?”

A laugh climbed up my throat, leaving me before I could stop it. “Oh God, no.”

Lucas’s lopsided smile fell off. “Oh.”

“I mean, you’re handsome,” I felt the need to clarify. Then, immediately regretted it. “Objectively. To the people out there. Not subjectively, as in, to me. You’re objectively handsome, I… guess.”

“You… guess?” Lucas’s lips pursed. “I feel like there’s a compliment somewhere, but I’m having a hard time finding it.”

If you only knew, I thought. But instead, I said, “It’s the fact that I seem to be using you as my therapeutic crutch a lot. We’ve known each other for a total of what? A day? And you know more about me than most people that have been in my life for years.” I shrugged a shoulder. “That’s why I was comparing you to him.”

His smile returned. “Being used by beautiful women is something I don’t mind in the slightest.”

Beautiful women.

My heart did the silliest, stupidest cartwheel.

I returned the glass to my lips just to buy some time, trying to focus on women, plural, and not woman, as in me, Rosie. Although what did it matter, really? This was Lucas Martín, and after tonight, there was nothing tying us together. Not when Lina wasn’t in New York to supply an excuse for us to meet again, and definitely not when in about a month and a half he’d be jumping on a plane and leaving the country. The continent. So it didn’t matter if he was referring to me or not.

“So, my brother,” I said, taking the conversation back onto a safer ground, “didn’t even show up. He blew me off. Again.”

Lucas nodded. “Did he say why?”

“He didn’t. He never tells me anything anymore.” I reached for my napkin, just to occupy my hands with something. “And that’s the whole problem. I just… don’t know what’s up with him. It’s as if I no longer know him, like he doesn’t want me in his life anymore.” I shook my head, squeezing the cloth between my fingers. “And that makes me incredibly sad.”

I looked up at Lucas, finding his attentive gaze on me as he chewed on the last of his food. “And your dad?”

“He’s probably blaming himself. He probably feels like he could have done something if he’d stayed in the city.” I dropped the napkin next to my plate and reached for the wine again. “That’s why I always cover for him. Tell Dad that he’s busy. That he has a new job. That he’s living his life. That he’s an adult and we need to give him some room to grow on his own. But I’m not sure I believe that myself anymore.” I downed the contents of my glass. “I think there’s something he’s not telling us. Something he’s keeping from me.”

Lucas nodded, momentarily averting his gaze. “What do you think that could be?”

Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “I don’t know, Lucas.” I zeroed back on him and forced a smile. “See? A two glasses kind of night.”

Lucas remained silent for a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought. Then he said, “Sometimes we keep things from those we love for reasons we don’t even understand ourselves.”

And for some reason I couldn’t really explain, his words felt like a confession.

He continued, “Give him some time. He’ll realize on his own how isolating secrets can be.”

A little lost in the shadows crossing his expression, it took me some time to answer. “I hope you’re right, Dr. Phil.”

Shifting in my seat I remembered that I wasn’t the only one in the room that had had a strange day. “I should probably go. You must be exhausted after the weirdest twenty-four hours of your life.”

He chuckled, returning to his lighthearted self. “I wouldn’t say weird,” he admitted.

I wouldn’t, either, I thought. But I didn’t say anything and rose to my feet instead, the couple glasses of wine I’d ingested in the span of a few minutes racing straight to my head and making me wobble for the tiniest second.