Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(24)

Chapter Five





I grew up in the state of Massachusetts but these days, I live in the state of constant anxiety.



Delilah Sinclair, checking her bank account balance.





I don’t really want to confide in Luca, but he hasn’t given me much choice and, truth be told, I feel obligated to give him some kind of explanation for a multitude of things, including (but not limited to) the slutty maid outfit and my brief stint in the clink.

We stare at each other across the careful distance of the breakfast bar, eating lukewarm pancakes and pretending nothing has changed between us. Except it has — there’s a marked difference in the way he’s looking at me.

If I’m honest with myself, there’s always been a weird sort of tension between us from the very first time we met, but it feels different now. Electrically charged, as though an invisible switch has been flipped to crank our lingering sexual tension from a low simmer to a rolling boil. I can barely meet his eyes as I push my pancakes around my plate, appetite lost as I try to force out the words.

“Delilah.” Luca sighs. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t know all the facts.”

“If you’d just spit it out already, I’d know them.”

“You’re impatient.”

“And you’re stalling.” He pauses. “Think of it this way — you don’t even like me. So you can let me in on whatever’s going on with you, because my opinion won’t matter. It’s not like I’m Phoebe or Nate or one of your close friends.”

My heart squeezes guiltily, when he says that.

God, I’ve been a real bitch to this guy.

My eyes lift to his and I see something soft behind all that ice on the surface of his irises. It makes me shiver, so I ignore it completely, steady my shoulders, and take a deep breath.

“I’m broke.”

Luca’s brows lift. “Come again?”

“Broke. Impoverished. Drained of all liquid assets.” I shrug. “Take your pick, they all apply.”

“But I thought your family…” He trails off, probably not wanting to say something offensive, so I fill in the blanks for him.

“Yes, the Sinclairs are loaded.” I laugh bitterly. “Or, we were. Six months ago, things changed.”

Luca waits for me to continue, eyes fixed on my face.

“My brother, Duncan, came to me with a big business proposition. He said it wasn’t a loan — it was an opportunity for me to double the money in my trust fund by becoming a founding investor in his new company. Getting in on the ground floor.” I force out another laugh, because if I don’t, I’m afraid I might cry. “A foolproof plan.”

“One guess — it wasn’t foolproof.”

“Of course not.” I sigh. “This isn’t the first time Duncan’s gotten himself in financial trouble. His last three startups have failed within a year of fundraising. The three before that never made it past the brainstorming stage, they were so fundamentally useless. But when Duncan gets an idea — Underwear with pockets! A reality TV show starring famous Instagram cats! A weekly podcast featuring only orca whale calls! — there’s no way to talk him out of it. He’s a one-man wrecking ball without an off-switch.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to give him your money because…?” Luca asks point blank, never one to mince words.

“Are you insane? I didn’t give him the money. I’m not a complete idiot.” My lips press into a frown. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about my parents.”

Luca’s brows lift. “They gave him a loan?”

“For all intents and purposes, they wrote him a blank check. And, trust me, he used it. Quickly.”

“Not the smartest move given his track record — no offense to your parents.”

“They rarely move in any manner resembling smart where Duncan is concerned. No matter how many times he screws up, they can’t see it. Not after…” I trail off.

After they lost Mimi.

I shrug. “Duncan is the darling golden boy. The favorite.”

Luca stares at me for a beat, sensing my evasion but not calling me out on it. “What’s that make you?”

I hesitate, then sigh. “The eternal runner-up.”

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t comment.

“Anyway, after Duncan blew through his trust fund, followed by most of the family funds… it wasn’t long before I got the call.” I mimic my mother’s breathy tones. “Lila, darling, you know your father and I are out of the country on business. We just need a small loan to get by until we get things back on track…” I fold my hands together to keep from hitting something. “Just like that, poof goes my trust fund, and in the blink of an eye I’m a cliché — a washed up socialite with zero useful life skills and zero dollars in her bank account.”

“You gave them everything?” he asks, tone laced with surprise.

I nod. “Essentially.”

“Why?”

“They’re my parents,” I say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What was I going to do, let them starve? Let the bank take their house when they couldn’t pay their bills?”