Page 20 of My Lucky Star
Chapter 8
Aria
AS THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN, a breath caught in my throat. A taller and meaner-looking version of Cem stared down at me. Behind him, the original Cem grinned in a tight, maroon velvety robe.
“There’s two of you,” I stammered.
“Burcu? Burcu Yilmaz?” the tall one said, still staring at me with unblinking eyes. His shirt wasn’t shiny, but he looked like a businessman in crisp white and grey.
“No. Aria,” Cem corrected, pushing him out of the way so I could step in. “This is my brother, Emir.”
Cem gave him a playful slap on the arm and Emir extended it. “Nice to meet you.”
We shook hands while he continued to stare at me in that intensely confused way, making me want to hide under a rug.
I offered Cem my paper bag. “Here you go.”
I watched in anticipation as he pulled out each item of clothing, hanging them over the reception desk. I’d left his credit card on the bottom of the bag, and I noticed how quickly he pocketed it, not letting his brother see it.
“Do you think they’ll fit?” I asked, anxious. “I got stretchy materials, to be safe.”
Cem looked at the display of casual cotton and smiled. “I’m sure they’re fine, but Emir brought my luggage, so I’m all good.”
“Ah, okay.” I tried to sound casual, but probably looked nothing but. Cem no longer needed me, yet I needed him. Disappointment twisted my gut.
Cem studied my face for a moment as if trying to read my mood. He picked up the T-shirt and held it against his chest. “Looks like a good fit, don’t you think?” He cast a loaded look at Emir who manufactured the slightest of smiles.
“Absolutely. It looks very... um, tribal.”
I didn’t need their pity. I huffed, trying to replace my welling sadness with anger. “Mana is the Maori word for authority, spiritual power, many things... “
“That sounds amazing.” Cem’s appreciation sounded genuine, if laced with concern.
“I love Maori words,” I babbled on. “They hold so much meaning. Like whakawhanaungatanga, it’s—”
Emir cleared his throat. “Aria, was it? Will you join us for dinner? I think the lasagna will be ready soon.” He gestured toward the kitchen without a hint of a smile.
I stared at him in confusion. “Dinner? I... haven’t had lunch yet.”
“Well, it’s dinner time somewhere in the world.” Emir rubbed his forehead. “I only arrived. Jet lag...”
His flustered embarrassment lifted my mood. “It’s okay,” I said. “And thank you, but I don’t want to impose.”
I shifted toward the door, but Cem grabbed my arm. “Oh, no. We insist.”
“Do you now?” I muttered as the brothers joined forces in escorting me into the kitchen.
Emir seated me at the kitchen island and opened cupboards until he found plates. While he set the table, Cem fetched flavored soda water bottles from the fridge. He made a fuss about letting me choose a flavor and I picked a random one based on the color. On a closer look, it appeared to be raspberry.
Emir placed a foil tray of lasagna on the table and dished out huge portions, despite my protests. I liked lasagna, but would have never had such a heart-stopping amount for lunch. It was tasty, though, and for a moment, we all ate in silence.
