The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(39)

“Don’t want to bother me while I’m on my honeymoon with my swoon-worthy husband, I know. But we’ve established that you’re not doing that. So, start talking, bestie.”

Start talking.

There was so much I needed to tell her. To confess, really. Starting with the fact that my apartment was out of commission for the time being. And that I was sharing her studio with her cousin. And that I’d harbored an online crush on said cousin and spending time with him wasn’t making it any better.

And yet, what came out of my mouth was, “I think I might have made a terrible mistake.”

“Okay.” Her tone was careful. “Was that an ‘I added salt to the batter instead of sugar’ mistake, or a ‘honey, remember the zinc phosphide we got for the rat infestation problem, well I’d stop chewing if I were you’ mistake?”

I closed my eyes. “The second one?” I thought about it a little better. “Maybe not exactly the second one but something close to it. Minus the accidental poisoning of my family. Let’s say I was the only one poisoned. And I kind of did it to myself. Let’s say—”

“Rosie?” She stopped me.

“Yeah?”

“I think we took the metaphor too far, and now I don’t know what we’re talking about.”

I released a deep breath. “Quitting my job at InTech. That was the mistake, Lina.”

“What?” She gasped with what I knew was honest shock. “Why would you think that? You’re living your best writer’s life now, no distractions and a book deal in the bag.”

“Yes, only I’m not living my best writer’s life.” I looked up at the ceiling, bringing my fingers to my temples. “I haven’t been writing. I’m less than eight weeks away from my deadline and I’m… I’m nowhere. I’ve been stuck for a long time, and now, I don’t think I’ll make it. I’ve got nothing, Lina. Not a single thing.”

There was silence, and then my best friend said, “Oh, Rosie.”

A tremor rocked my lower lip, the lock on the gates that had busted open less than twenty-four hours ago rattling again. “So there’s that,” I blurted in a strange-sounding voice. “I’m a failure. I haven’t even had my dream yet and I’m already a failure. Do you… Do you think that Aaron will take me back if I ask for my old job?”

“No.”

“Okay, well. I get it. I guess someone else—”

“No,” she repeated. “You’re not asking Aaron for your job.”

“Lina—”

“Shut up and listen. And listen carefully.” My mouth snapped closed, my eyes growing more watery by the moment even though my best friend’s tone was harsh. “You, Rosalyn Graham, are a boss-lady.”

I let out a sound I refused to acknowledge as a hiccup.

“You have an engineering degree. You were promoted to team leader in a top-tier tech company in goddamn New York City.” She paused, letting all that sink in. “You wrote a book—in your free time. A good freaking book, Rosie. A beautiful and epic love story about a war veteran that travels through time and fights to find a place, his place, beside the woman he so helplessly loves in the present day. Do you know that Charo is still calling him ‘My Officer’? The woman has claimed that fictional man as hers and she genuinely gets pissed at people if they so much as mention him.” I knew that. Lina had sent me screenshots from more than a few aggressively enthusiastic messages. “The day she finds out that you are the Rosalyn Sage, she’s going to flip and pester you for the rest of your life.” A pause. “And that’s only because you smashed it. You knocked it out of the park.”

“I didn’t really smash it, Lina. I—”

“That publishing house didn’t offer a deal because of your pretty face.”

“Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. “I guess my first book was okay.”

Lina huffed. “It wasn’t just okay, Rosie. It was laced with crack, I told you. The small albeit enthusiastic part of my family that speaks English adored it.” I heard some ruffling noise in the back, as if she’d just opened a chocolate bar or a snack bag. Both possible options with her. “And on top of all that, you had the balls to quit a job that no longer fulfilled you and pursue a career that did. In writing. Because you’re good at it, Rosie.”

The balls.

That reminded me of Lucas when he’d called me ballsy. Ballsy. Me.

My heart resumed the funny flip-flop business it performed every time I thought of him.

“Am I ballsy, though?” I heard myself ask out loud.

“Yes!” Lina confirmed right away. “This whole thing about you being stuck is your fear talking. You’re terrified to fail, Rosie. I know you. But you need to get out of your head, stop whining about not being able to fix the problem, and start believing that you can.”

“Ouch,” I muttered.

“I’m saying it because I love you.” I could picture her waving a finger at me. “Don’t let the pressure you’re putting on yourself paralyze you. You are the only person limiting yourself, Rosie.”

Her words cut a little deeper than they should have. Not the whining part, but the one about me being the problem. Because I was starting to believe that I was.