The Fortunate Ones
Page 52

“Okay,” Luciana says, sitting up straight and pointing her fork at Alejandro. “So does that mean he’s up for grabs?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
My family has finally convinced me to come home for a visit. It’s mid-December, and ever since I skipped out on the holidays last year, my dad has made it a point to guilt me into returning home this year. He bought my ticket last December just so I couldn’t back out. That’s a year of planning, friends. Now, I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m excited to see him and Ellie, and—dare I say—even Martha. All these months apart have actually helped me to see how much I genuinely care for her. I know, shocking. I’ll probably promptly renew my annoyance with her upon my arrival, but those first few moments of our reunion will be wholesome and Hallmark-y.
Diego and Nicolás are happy that I’m going home, but Luciana has been moody for the last two weeks, punishing me for having the audacity to leave her. Last week, she tried to hide my laptop in the hopes that I couldn’t go home without it. I found it under her mattress, unharmed except for the ominous record of transatlantic flight crashes on Wikipedia that she left open as a warning. This week, she’s subjected me to the silent treatment. Not a peep has left her mouth in over 72 hours, and I haven’t decided if I should be annoyed or impressed by her resolution. Even now, as I finish packing up my suitcase, she sits on the edge of my bed, aiming her best death glare at me.
“Is there something you’d like to say, Luce?” I ask, amused.
She zips her lips with her thumb and forefinger, proving just how far she’s willing to go to prove her point.
“Now I wish I had taught you sign language! I’m going to miss you when I’m gone,” I say, knowing that’s what she needs to hear most. “And if you tell me what you want, I’ll bring back some good stuff from the States. You know those Central Market chocolate truffles you always talk about missing? Maybe if you speak up, I’ll bring some back.”
She fidgets and her face reddens, as if the strain of staying silent is starting to take its toll.
“Oh, I wonder if a cupcake from Sugar Mama’s would travel well?” I ask, sounding casual and aloof.
She stifles a groan.
“No, you’re right, probably not.”
That does it.
With an explosive exhale, she leaps off the bed and grabs my forearms. “PLEASE BRING ME BACK A CUPCAKE!”
I smile, proud of my hard-won victory. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She sneers and tosses my arms away, returning to her perch on my bed. “Are you sure you want to go? It’s such a long way.”
“I want to see my family.”
“But you FaceTime with Ellie like every day. What’s the difference?”
“Luce, c’mon. Think of how much you would miss Olive if she was halfway around the world.”
She shrugs, staring down at her nails, completely unbothered by the concept. “Sometimes I wish she was on another world entirely.” I glare at her until she relents. “Fine, sure, I guess I’d miss her a little.”
I throw a cardigan into my carry-on. “You weren’t like this when I left for that trip with my mom last year. How is this any different?”
She looks down at her dangling feet as they sway back and forth off the side of my bed. “Because it feels different.”
“How?”
“Because…I don’t know. My dad said something the other day…”
She still won’t look up and answer me, but I know exactly what she’s referencing. I had a conversation with Diego a few nights ago. I was in the kitchen, enjoying a bowl of cereal as a midnight snack when he walked in and took a seat beside me at the island. I’d already gathered a bowl and spoon for him, so he poured himself some cereal and together, we ate in silence.
It’s a nightly ritual for us because I’m a night owl and he’s an insomniac. Sometimes we talk, but that night, we enjoyed the quiet cadence of spoons clinking against bowls and teeth munching on cereal. I was halfway finished when he finally spoke up, catching me off guard with his topic of choice: “I’m glad you’re going home.”
“Oh…” I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I am too.”
He aimed his furrowed brows down at his cereal bowl. “I know when you first started, we didn’t put an end date in your contract.”
“Right.”
“But, I think that was a mistake.”
I dropped my spoon into my bowl with a loud CLINK and turned to him, stricken by the idea that I was being let go.
“Have I done something wrong?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, of course not, and I’m not firing you, Brooke,” he said with a low chuckle. “You’ve been wonderful, and I want you to stay with us until I’m 80. God, Luciana would love it.”
I frowned, confused by where the conversation was headed.
“But I don’t think that’s what you need. By not setting an end date, I feel like we’re enabling you in running away from something.”
“I love this job,” I insisted.
He nodded. “And we love having you here.”
“So then there’s nothing to discuss,” I declared, turning back to my cereal and attempting to put the kibosh on the whole conversation. He let me have silence for a few minutes before he launched back into the topic at hand.
“Tell me, have you made a single friend since you’ve been here? Have you tried to make it your home?”
I thought back to the few people I encountered in my daily life. There was the teacher at the girls’ school who waved at me when I dropped them off and picked them up. There was the nice old lady who kept the bookshop a few blocks down. Sometimes she talked to me about books, but she also talked to her cat about books, so I didn’t think I was special in that regard. There was the chef I turned down for a date, and of course, Alejandro. Other than that…
I sighed. “No, I guess not.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because I like hanging out with you guys and Luciana and Olive.” Never mind that they’re half my age.
He nodded and stared down thoughtfully at his cereal bowl. “I think you’re leaving out the most important reason.”
There was no other reason, at least not one I had thought of, but he disagreed.
“You haven’t put down roots here because you know it’s not where you want to be.”
Well that’s some psychobabble if I’ve ever heard it.
I scooted my stool away from the island and stood to deposit my bowl in the sink.
“Of course I want to be here.”
He laughed wistfully. “Brooke, when we met you in Austin, you reached for this job like it was a lifeline.”
I snorted. “Because it was one! I hated that stupid job at that country club. Of course I was anxious to leave. Do you know how annoying it is to serve margaritas to snooty assholes?”
He nodded in understanding and then stood to join me at the sink. “I’m worried you still don’t see it.”
“Don’t see what?” I asked, stepping back.
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Why are you really here, Brooke?”
I gave him the most basic answer, the answer I’d clung to for the last year and a half. “Because I want to tutor your girls.”
“Why are you here?” he repeated with emphasis.
“Because…” I grappled for another response. “I want to travel…I want to see the world.”
“You have,” he pointed out. “You’ve seen more of the world than most people will see in their entire lifetime. Do you feel any more fulfilled?” I narrowed my eyes, not liking where the conversation was going. Maybe he could tell I’d reached my limit because he stepped back and held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t keep pushing you. The point of all of this was…I don’t know…to let you know that if you head home and find that you’d like to stay, we’ll be happy for you.”
I frowned. “What about the girls?”
He smiled softly. “You’ve given them so much, but I think you might need them more than they need you.”