While that was a simple enough question, it somehow felt like a punch to the gut. Because it only reminded me of the truth: I didn’t have a plan. I was no longer a man who thought in terms of plans. I was No Plan Lucas. “Nothing special. Just… tourist stuff.”
Silence settled between us as she weighed my curt answer.
I cleared my throat. “You’re down to one question.”
It only took her a few more seconds of scrutiny, and then she said, “Why weren’t you at Lina and Aaron’s wedding?”
My eyes widened. Her question had caught me completely off guard. Memories of the weeks preceding the wedding poured in, stealing the breath right out of me.
Rosie, who must have seen everything playing in my face, hesitated.
“Lucas—”
“It’s fine,” I cut her off. I could play by my own rules. One question, one answer. No matter how long or difficult it was. “I couldn’t attend,” I forced out, feeling like it was hard to breathe. “I was not able to make it in time. I…” I blew out a shaky breath. “I was—”
I shook my head.
Long, short, easy, or hard, I didn’t seem to have an answer for her. Because how did one finish a statement that represented everything they were running away from? Hell if I knew.
Something warm brushed the back of my hand, pulling me out of my head.
Looking down, my gaze stumbled upon five long and delicate fingers loosely wrapped around my hand.
“Hey,” I heard her say, my eyes glued to our hands. “You couldn’t go. That’s a valid answer, Lucas. You played by the rules.”
Torn between shaking her off and turning my hand to lace my fingers through hers for no other reason except because I needed the physical contact, I needed the closeness of another human being, I settled on neither.
I went for what I did best.
I pulled myself together and gave her a grin I hoped did the trick.
“Our five questions are up,” I told her. “What time are you leaving for Philly?”
Her lips parted, but before she could give me an answer, her phone rang. She fished it out of her bag and looked at the screen with a frown. “Sorry, I better get this.” Picking up the call, she brought it to her ear. “Hey, Dad, is Olly—”
She was silenced by whatever was being said on the line.
Her eyes widened, panic etching in her otherwise soft features. “You what?” She breathed out. “An ambulance?”
Something dropped in my stomach the moment that last word registered. And it tumbled further down when she ended the call a few seconds later and stood with a jolt, barely looking at me.
“I need to go.” She scrambled for her things. “I’m sorry. It’s my dad.” Her hand shot for her purse, snatching it a little too briskly and dropping it to the floor. “Dammit.”
“Rosie,” I said, kneeling with her to pick up the things that had tumbled out of her bag. My joints complained fiercely but I ignored the pain as I picked up her keys and something that looked like a lipstick bar. “Hey, Rosie?” I searched her gaze, placing the items in her hands, and when she didn’t look at me, I slid my fingers to her wrists. Her skin was warm, soft. I squeezed gently but firmly. Just enough to get her attention.
Her gaze finally met mine.
“Take a breath,” I instructed.
She obeyed, filling her lungs with air while we remained crouching on the floor, facing each other.
“Do you need me to come with you?” I said very slowly. “You are a little shaken.”
“What?” Her features softened. “That’s… No. It’s okay.” She took in another breath. “I’m being silly. Dad’s probably fine. It’s his hip. An old injury, but he slipped, and a neighbor called an ambulance. He didn’t even need me. He was calling because Mrs. Hull threatened to. Anyway, I was going to go to Philly today either way. So it’s okay.”
Words of reassurance rose to the tip of my tongue, but she distracted me by standing up.
I followed suit, taking extra care not to lean my weight on my right side so we wouldn’t have a repeat of last night.
Rosie pulled out her wallet, extracted a few twenties, and placed them on top of the table. “Here.” She smiled before pinning me with a serious look. “I think this will cover our tab.”
Our tab?
I shook my head. “Rosie, no. You don’t have to.”
“Take it,” she insisted. “Please, Lucas.”
“Rosie…” I trailed off. But what did I expect after telling her I’d lost my card and that I only had a few bucks with me. God. I was a zopenco, like Abuela loved to call me when I pulled off something this stupid.