The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(10)

“I don’t care how much you make, Olly. I care about you being happy. About—”

“I am, okay? I’m not a kid anymore and you don’t need to worry about me.”

I was close to scoffing at his you don’t need to worry about me, but I held the sound in. Olly was an adult, and I understood his need for boundaries. His wish not to be babysat. But I was still his big sister, and he was still the kid I used to feed Froot Loops to for dinner when our fridge was empty, and Dad was working night shifts. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll drop it.” Then added, “For today.”

He muttered a half-hearted, “Thank you.”

“So, listen.” I veered the conversation onto a safer ground. “I was thinking of grabbing a few sausage rolls and heading to Philly today. Surprise Dad with brunch. What about joining me? You could be back by evening. How about I meet you at the train station and we go together?”

A beat of silence, then he asked, “Aren’t you supposed to go to the office today? It’s Monday.”

I winced, silently cursing myself for my careless slip. Oh, crap. “I… yes. You’re right.” And he was, technically. What Olly—or Dad—didn’t know was that for the past six months, I hadn’t been calling InTech’s Manhattan headquarters the office. “But I have taken the day off. Just today. My boss is… more flexible with my time off now that I’m, you know, a team leader.”

“Ah, yeah. My big sis is a boss-lady now. That’s right.” He chuckled and I wished I heard that sound more often. I wished I wasn’t lying to him and he wasn’t keeping things from me, either. “So that promotion you got last year is working out for you, huh? Planning on climbing even further up the ladder, big sis?”

“Oh, I have no plan to do that, believe me.” Not when I had, in fact, climbed down and off the ladder. Stretching my legs, I set both feet on the floor and got out of bed. “So, are you coming, then? To Dad’s?”

“I…” He trailed off, which was indication enough that I was about to be let down.

“Please, Olly. I have something I want to tell you. Both of you. And Dad misses you. I’ve been covering for you for weeks and I’m running out of excuses. Please, come.”

He sighed. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

Ah, progress, I hoped. “I’ll text you the train timetable, yeah? We can meet at the station.”

“Yeah,” he answered, the earlier hope flaring up in my chest. “I… love you, Bean.”

Bean. It had been ages since he’d called me that. “I love you, too, Olly.”

And with those parting words I set to get ready and go confess the truth to the man who had worked multiple jobs to give my brother and me a good life after he’d been left on his own with us. The man who had raised us, alone, after our mother had taken off and left us behind. The man who had put me through college with the sweat of his brow and a determination of steel. The man to whom I owed the financial security my engineering degree had given me until recently. Until that day six months ago when I took a leap of faith to change my life. My career.

Oh boy.

How did one tell such a man that I had decided to quit the stable, well-paid position he—and I—had worked so hard for, only to chase dreams that were nothing more than ink on paper?

How did one tell a man who had sacrificed so much that I had exchanged an established career with amazing prospects for one that wasn’t guaranteed?

I didn’t have the slightest idea. And that was exactly why I’d let that secret sit on my shoulders for months.

But that ended today.

I kept repeating that mantra as I went through the motions of getting ready. I threw on the first thing I could pull out of my suitcase: a pair of light blue jeans and an oversized burgundy sweater. And like pretty much every morning, I unsuccessfully tried to tame the mess of dark curls on my head and settled for tying them loosely on top of my head.

Once I made my way out, I settled on a plan of action.

First, I’d get Dad’s favorite sausage rolls from O’Brien’s, a bakery here in Brooklyn, only a few minutes away from Lina’s place. I’d wait for him to bite into the savory fried goodness and, boom, I’d drop the bomb.

It was a good plan.

At least, I was trying to convince myself of that as I entered the bakery, placed my order, and made my way out with Dad’s bribe. That was probably why, when I stepped onto the sidewalk, I almost tripped when my gaze fell into the window of the diner across the street.

I did a double take. Then, a third. I probably stared for about a good full minute.

But how could I not, when Lucas was sitting there, in the window of the diner, hair an unruly mess, and lean and strong arms crossed over his chest. That mouth I’d seen mostly grinning, hung open as his head rested on the back of the seat and I could tell he had on the same clothes he had been wearing last night.

But I had to be wrong. That couldn’t be Lucas.

He couldn’t be sleeping in that diner, in front of a mug and an empty plate. He was supposed to be in a hotel. Unless…

That thought was left unfinished as my two feet carried me across the street and into the diner, this big, pressing question bouncing off the walls of my head. Had he spent the night here? And if so, why? Why hadn’t he gone to a hotel?