Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,26
were useless.
“Thank you,” I say, handing it back to him after I take a few sips. “This is a sign that I shouldn’t be ziplining or doing crazy things.”
“As long as you didn’t catch some flu during your last trip,” Eros says. “Every time you catch a bug, I get sick too.”
“My last trip was to New York with Persy. In a private jet. If I get sick, she’s the one who would get it. Not you. Also, it’s summer. Flu season is months away.”
“You’ve been traveling for the past couple of months. Your defenses are low, and you probably caught a bug,” he insists.
“Time to find a new career,” Nate suggests, bringing the conversation back to the plate. “You might be working so hard you’re getting sick.”
“It was the ziplining,” I argue. “I’m doing what I love. I always wanted to be a lawyer.”
“To save the Rainforest, push laws that will save the environment, and…you wanted to be an activist,” Eros recalls and stares at me. I’m not sure if he’s challenging me to fight him or just telling me how disappointed he is about my life. “Instead, you work for a greedy bitch, you live off of takeout, and you completely forgot how to have a good time. Look, now you’re sick because your body is asking for a break.”
I stare at him dumbfounded. Yes, things didn’t turn out the way I wanted. I became a career-oriented woman who wants stability. If I lose my job tomorrow, my savings will last me for about six months. I have a cushion, and he doesn’t.
Perhaps I should remind him who bails him out every time his bank account is overdrawn? Me. Well, other times it is Persy. But if it wasn’t for us, he’d be living under a bridge.
Wouldn’t he?
“You chose to be like our parents, I refuse to do the same,” I state, then bite my lower lip regretting my comment.
“What does that mean?” He glares at me, his nostrils flaring.
Nate watches us, puts himself in between us and then says, “Let me take you home. You don’t look well.”
“We have business to talk about,” I remind him.
“No, that can wait till Monday,” Nate says, worry sketched in his blue eyes.
“I have work on Monday. Unlike you two, I have a boss who expects me to be there on time.”
“We can do a conference call,” Nate suggests.
“How about tomorrow?” I ask.
He frowns and lets out a loud breath. “I… Fuck, Ford is in New York.”
Eros and I look at each other and then at him puzzled by his reaction.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Nothing. I don’t have plans, but I’d rather not work tomorrow. It’s a part of balancing my life. I can teach you a trick or two if you want.” He winks at me.
“Dude,” Eros says.
“Just giving her options since you seem to be worried about her,” Nate jokes, but I think his mischievous eyes say we could do a lot more than hang out tomorrow.
“I can try to be off by seven on Monday,” I offer, not engaging with my brother or Nate’s flirtatious advances.
“Works for me. If we’re not working today, I rather go home. I have to talk to Misty,” Eros announces. “Are you sure you’re okay driving her to her house?”
“You’re not going to profess your love for her, are you?” I ask.
“No. We’re still friends. She asked me to help her today since her fiancé is out of town,” he explains.
Somehow, I don’t believe him.
“Please, don’t do anything stupid,” I beg.
“I won’t, Mom. You two behave,” he gives Nate a warning glare.
“Who is Misty?” Nate asks on our way to his car.
“One of his closest friends. She’s getting married, and he’s now wondering if maybe she’s the love of his life—or the one who got away.”
“Is she?” he asks.
I shrug. “Persy and I think he’s just missing the attention Misty used to give him. I just hope he doesn’t do something he regrets later. Sometimes he doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions.”
“In contrast, you overthink them too much,” Nate argues, and he’s right.
I always weigh the pros and cons of every action, but that’s the key to my success.
“One of us has to be the sensible one in this family,” I say. “If all of us were like my parents, we’d be a disaster.”
“Balance,” is all Nate says after he opens the passenger door for me.
When he gets in the driver’s seat I say, “You’re an adrenaline junky.”