As anticipated, Rosie’s landlord—a man that had introduced himself as Mr. Allen—wasn’t only moody. He was also a verified asshole. One that apparently owned the entire building, as he made a point of sharing immediately.
Not a moment too soon, a dark-haired man around my age arrived, dressed in dark cargo pants and a hoodie with Castillo & Sons printed across his chest.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, encountering us in the hallway. “My previous visit ran a little over. I got here as soon as I could.”
“A little,” Mr. Allen scoffed, his words dripping sarcasm. “You’re ten minutes late. I specifically asked you to meet us at 6:45.”
Asshole remark, when Mr. Allen himself had just gotten here.
The contractor was quick to ignore that, though, and moved straight in Rosie’s direction.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Aiden Castillo.”
“Rosalyn Graham,” Rosie answered with a small smile before unlocking and opening the door for us. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Castillo.”
“Oh, no need to thank me.” Aiden’s gaze remained on Rosie’s face as he stood beside her, not walking inside immediately.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was shifting closer to Rosie and shoving my hand in his direction. “Lucas Martín.” I paused, making sure I met his gaze. “A good friend.”
Aiden took my hand in his without missing a beat, pinning me with an understanding glance that automatically made me feel like a jerk for whatever the hell I had just tried to pull off.
?Pero qué co?o haces, Lucas?
Scolding myself internally, I shook his hand and a few moments later, we were inside and Aiden was on the move, pulling out a pad and pen.
Mr. Allen, who started pacing behind us, released a long sigh. “We’re meeting the tenant upstairs, too, so make it quick, yeah?”
The contractor ignored that, too.
Rosie, on the other hand, worried her lip as she glanced back at a restless Mr. Allen.
“Hey,” I said, shifting closer to her and getting in her field of vision. “Nice place you have here, Rosie.”
I wasn’t lying, it was a nice apartment. Also in Brooklyn, but a different area. Roomier than Lina’s, which wasn’t hard, but also homier. Rosie’s place screamed comfort and calmness, everything about it—from the plush-looking chaise longue to the soft buttery glow of the lamp and the little trinkets and books she had lying around—as if designed to provide solace. A home.
And it… suited her. It fit her perfectly.
Parking that thought aside, I pointed my head to the left. “Especially that one picture hanging over there.”
It was a framed picture of her and Lina—shockingly large in size—where they were dressed up as Minions. They even had their faces painted in yellow and had two toilet paper rolls glued over their eyes. The costumes were ridiculous, but the fact that this was two adult women proudly staring into the camera was… captivating. Goofy.
“And cute,” I said under my breath before turning to look at her face. “Do you think we should take it back to Lina’s? Maybe you miss having it around. I would if I were you.”
“Hilarious.” She pouted. “It was a gift from Lina, okay?” Of course, it was. “And I think I’ll survive without it.”
I snickered, feeling a strange satisfaction at the lightness in her tone and the way she’d seemed to forget about the other two men in the room.
“Miss Graham,” Aiden called from the other section of the living room, breaking off the moment. Rosie and I looked over at him, finding him with his head tilted back, inspecting the ceiling. “Is this all the damage? No more sections of the ceiling collapsed?”
Collapsed?
Hadn’t Rosie talked about a crack? With all my focus on keeping an eye on her, I’d forgotten to check that myself. I glanced up, searching the ceiling and I—
“Pero qué cojones.” The Spanish curse slipped right out.
Mr. Allen scoffed at me, and Rosie shuffled to Aiden’s side. “Yes, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” I blurted out, disbelief coating my words. “Rosie, that could have knocked someone down. You said it was a crack.”
“Yes,” Aiden confirmed. “This could have gotten ugly real quick if someone had been standing right beneath this section of the ceiling when it went down.”
“Jesus,” I muttered as I stared at Rosie’s profile.
“But no one was,” Rosie said softly. “It just fell at my feet.”