The Odds of Happily Ever After (The Reyes Siblings #2)

Chapter 7

chapter seven

gabe

Gabe

Are you home?

Luna.

I checked my phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. It was nearly an hour since I left the supermarket. Even if Luna had shopped until closing time, she should be home by now. The bus ride wouldn’t have taken thirty minutes, and I bet she’d been on her phone during the trip.

Which meant she was ignoring my texts. It was either that or something had happened between our encounter at the dairy aisle and now.

Various news headlines flashed in my mind, each worse than the last.

To hell with it. I dialed her number and waited for her to pick up.

At the fourth ring, I grabbed my car keys and started for the door.

“Hello?”

I stopped. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“You didn’t reply to my text.”

“I was still debating if I should,” she said, surprising me with her honesty. “Anyway, I’m home already.”

“I was worried about you,” I admitted, surprising myself this time.

She let out a short laugh. “It was just a bus ride from the grocery to my apartment. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I can send you multiple news articles that prove there are things to worry about.”

“You don’t have to. My dad sends me stuff like that every other week,” she said, and I could picture her rolling her eyes. “Did you ever do that to Ate?”

“No.”

“Of course not.”

Something about her tone, the way it sounded sad and resigned, prompted me to add, “I reminded her to be careful, but you know your sister.”

“She always was the independent one,” Luna murmured. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but you really don’t have to check on me. I chat with Ate almost every day, and she has Kriz’s number in case she can’t reach me.”

Metal clanged and she let out a curse.

“What happened?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

“Just dropped a pot lid. So?—”

“You’re cooking?”

“Yeah.”

“At almost one in the morning?”

“Why not?”

Yes, why not? I was guilty of snacking after midnight, too, even past my undergraduate years. Why wouldn’t Luna be doing the same?

“Right. Well, enjoy. Don’t forget to turn off your stove.” I gritted my teeth at the inanity of that statement. This was exactly why social conversations and I didn’t get along.

“I’ve been cooking since I was seven, Professor,” Luna said drily. “I know to turn off the stove.”

“Of course you do.”

“I didn’t know you were paranoid about safety.”

Neither did I—because I normally wasn’t. My neck grew warm as I tried to think about what to say next, but everything felt too long-winded. So, I chose the simplest response. “Glad you made it home. Good night.”

There was a beat of silence, like Luna was trying to figure out how we went from safety to goodbye. Finally, she said, “Night, Gabe.”

A second later, she clicked off, and my living room somehow seemed quieter than usual.

She was fine. My conscience could rest easy knowing I hadn’t left her to get in trouble.

Turning on some music, I walked over to the kitchen. I had finished a load in the dishwasher earlier, so I washed my glass by hand. Going through familiar motions right after my strained encounter with Luna reminded me of the night I helped her do the dishes at Tala’s apartment.

It had been two months after Luna moved here. Tala invited me over so I could get to know her sister and try what she called “real Filipino food.” Little did she know, the last time Luna and I had any contact was when I ignored her on the first day of class.

Everything went smoothly until Tala excused herself to go to the bathroom after dinner. As soon as the door closed, Luna busied herself at the sink—an obvious move to avoid talking to me. I knew because I would have done the same if she hadn’t beat me to it.

“You didn’t tell her,” I said as I walked toward her.

Luna startled, splashing water on her shirt. She scowled at me. “Tell her what?”

“That we saw each other on campus.” I motioned for her to step aside. “You cooked. I’ll wash.”

Facing the sink again, Luna resumed scrubbing the dishes. “I’ve got it. You’re a guest.”

I’d been visiting Tala’s apartment longer than Luna lived there, but I didn’t argue the point. Instead, I grabbed a dish towel and dried the glasses Luna had washed.

We worked in silence with a ruler’s length of space between us.

“My mother’s rule was the cook never washed the dishes.” I froze, and so did she. I didn’t know who was more surprised that I’d spoken up, much less about something personal.

I chalked it up to Luna’s cooking. Whenever Tala and I met up, we’d eat at a restaurant or grab takeout. It had been years since I’d had home-cooked food—and Luna’s food lived up to Tala’s rave reviews.

Luna cleared her throat. “Same. I used to cook with Mama and Lola, then Ate and our brother Lonzo washed.” From my peripheral vision, I saw her hands falter before she rinsed the plate. “But Lola got sick, Mama got busy with work, and Ate moved here.”

“And your brother?”

“He helped me wash sometimes, but he had a lot of stuff for school.”

I wanted to ask why he got a pass when she probably had schoolwork too, but it wasn’t my place to pry. Not when I hated being asked personal questions myself.

“I did, actually.”

“Did what?” I asked, wondering if I’d missed part of what she said.

“I told Ate I saw you at school,” she said in a clipped voice. “I just didn’t tell her you ignored me.”

Ahh. “Professors shouldn’t fraternize with students.”

Glancing at me, she rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you meet Ate when you were teaching her class?”

“I was a graduate teaching assistant. We didn’t become friends until later on.”

“Uh huh.” Her brows furrowed. “She said you’re an adjunct. Why aren’t you a full-time professor?”

Of course, she had to latch on to that detail and ask about it. “I haven’t finished my doctorate.”

“When will you finish it?”

“When I finish it.”

“Well, that explains everything.” She huffed out a breath and scrubbed the dish with more force than necessary.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” The collar of my shirt seemed to grow tighter, and I spoke without thinking. “Some of us have better things to do than gossip and flirt.”

She gaped at me. “I was not flirting with you. I would never!”

“I wasn’t talking about myself. Regardless, I advise you not to act overly familiar with your professors.”

She sputtered, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing. Again. I hated how words left so much room for emotions. Numbers were better—cold, hard facts.

“What, saying hello is overly familiar now?” Her voice rose. “Next you’re going to tell me I can’t smile at a professor or people will think I’m trying to seduce him. I mean, seriously?”

“I’m trying to keep you from losing your scholarship.”

“How did we get from me greeting you to me losing my scholarship?”

Back then, I thought Luna was just being difficult. Overreacting.

What an idiot I was.

She was right—I had blown the issue out of proportion. Despite promising Tala to give her sister a chance, I didn’t. Not truly. I’d judged her by my interpretation of Tala’s stories and let that color every interaction we had since.

If she had been the spoiled princess I’d pegged her as, she would have complained to her sister about me. Maybe even used that to try and turn Tala against me. But she hadn’t.

No wonder she was wary about accepting my help. I would be too after how I’d treated her in the past.

“Are you going to take my stuff hostage again?” she’d taunted me at the grocery store, reminding me of how I’d taken her bags without her consent before. And not just once, but twice . First, when Tala and I picked her up at the airport and I grabbed her suitcases before Tala could introduce us. Then there was that day I saw her after she went shopping.

I winced. Luna was right again—I was an ass. Even if I’d been concerned about her taking advantage of Tala, it didn’t excuse my harsh behavior toward her. She’d done nothing to warrant it. In fact, she often attempted to make peace with me.

Guilt followed me until I was in bed, recalling my interactions with Luna. Almost every encounter went against my sense of fairness and convinced me I had a lot of making up to do.

I just needed to determine where to begin.