“You can’t stay in your apartment,” I pointed out, holding my mug between my hands. “And it doesn’t seem like you can stay at your dad’s, either. Otherwise, you would be there right now. But correct me if I’m wrong.”
Rosie’s shoulders sunk. “No. You’re not wrong.”
She hadn’t explicitly said so last night, but I’d guessed. And I got it. I understood that. Far more than I was comfortable admitting. “So, stay here, give yourself some time to work things out.”
“But it’s a studio apartment with one bed, and Lina promised you the place, Lucas.”
“We can share it if you’re okay with that.”
Rosie’s ears turned pink.
I tilted my head. “The apartment, not the bed.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “Of course.” A pause. “But if I am the one okay with sharing?”
“You said we couldn’t both stay here the night I arrived, so I thought I’d check.”
“I did say that,” she murmured. Then, her voice dropped with something that sounded a lot like regret. “But I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t mind sharing the apartment with you. You’re… surprisingly wonderful. Actually, I shouldn’t even be surprised.”
I frowned, wondering what she meant by that.
Lost in thought, Rosie’s hand went to the top of her head, absentmindedly fixing locks of hair. “My plan was looking for a cheap hotel, or an Airbnb or something. I started checking yesterday on my way back, but it’s just…”
“Expensive,” I finished for her. “Exhausting, too. I know. I searched before Lina offered her place.” I straightened on my stool, making sure to meet her gaze. “Stay here, Rosie.” I offered her for what would be the last time. I wasn’t going to push this on her. “For as long as you want or need to. But just… don’t throw away the money on an overpriced room rushing out of here just because you think you’ll inconvenience me. I’m the one offering.”
Something new crystallized in her gaze. Something I was pretty sure meant she was considering it.
She hesitated, then asked, “Won’t I crowd you?”
“Do I look crowded to you?”
She shook her head.
“We stayed the night and it worked, didn’t it?” I said, and she shrugged. “And you’re forgetting I’m a tourist. The apartment will be empty most of the day anyway. Plenty of quiet for you to concentrate. To work and make your deadline.”
She perked up, but just as quickly she sighed. “But I can’t let you sleep on a couch.”
I checked the piece of furniture, not seeing the problem. “I’ve slept in far worse places than a couch in a trendy apartment in Brooklyn.”
“What places?”
“On Abuela’s thirty-year-old sofa, on an air mattress, a towel on the sand, or the floor of my van whenever the mattress got drenched by the rain, which was often.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I can go on. I’ve lived on the road for long periods of time. So trust me, that plush and fancy couch is a dream.”
Rosie took her time to process that. “On the road because of the competitions?”
A wave of cold and heavy reality washed over me.
“Lina bragged about you every time you qualified for a tournament,” Rosie explained. “She’d show me pictures. Of you.”
That settled like a stone deep in my stomach because neither Lina nor the rest of the Martín family was aware of how much that had changed.
Rosie brought the mug to her lips, and then shocked me by asking, “Is that why your English is so insanely good?”
Thankful for the slight veer in the direction of the conversation, I chuckled. “Yeah. Over the last five years I’ve spent more time around international people, away from home, than in Spain. So, at some point I guess I had no option but to… learn. I picked up lots of common expressions.”
Something seemed to flicker in Rosie’s eyes, spreading out across her face. “I’ll stay,” she said. “Until I find out how long before I can go back to my place. I should hear from my landlord this week.”
I nodded, ignoring the deep sense of relief invading me. “As long as you need.”
“Oh. And I’ll take care of all the groceries while I’m here.” She pointed at me with her finger. “Even after your credit card arrives. It’s the least I can do.”
I opened my mouth to complain but she stopped me, waving her index in front of my face. “Not negotiable.”