Page 74 of My Lucky Star
“You have no idea what we’ve been through because of you,” he muttered as soon as he’d got one sip of tea. “I’ve lost a lot of business.”
“They’ll come back when they see him with Burcu,” my mother cooed, nodding at Aria. “After the wedding.”
Wedding? I swallowed but didn’t say anything.
My father rolled his eyes. “The point was for you to stay out of the limelight, not to fly your girlfriend over there and create new headlines!”
Emir held up a finger. “But they’re good headlines. Epic Studios hasn’t dropped him yet. They’re watching and waiting. Silence doesn’t help. We need good publicity, fast.”
“I saw the story about you dating,” my mom chimed, her eyes sparkling. “A beautiful picture.”
“And right underneath, there was the other story, the one everyone still talks about.” Dad sucked in a labored breath.
“It’ll fade away.” Mom waved her hand. “Give it time.”
“Only God knows how much time I have,” Dad grumbled.
It was because of my money that he’d likely cling to life. I’d paid for the regular CT scans that detected the cancer. He couldn’t blame me for smoking, either.
“Did you get the test results?” I asked, keeping my tone even.
“It’s not small cell and it hasn’t spread,” my mom announced with her unbeatable optimism.
“So, it’s curable?”
My father harrumphed as if he had no trust in any of that.
“There’s a good chance,” Mom said.
“There’s a chance,” Dad corrected.
Was he annoyed that his deathly diagnosis wasn’t that deadly after all? He’d been leaning into those dramatic statements ever since the CT scans showed a mass, making me feel responsible. Why did I always feel responsible?
“So, with a positive attitude, you’ll live to a hundred.” I flashed him a chipper smile.
There was more than a handful of sarcasm, but Mom smiled enthusiastically. “Yes! I’ve been telling him that. He’s been so grumpy since your... you know.”
“Since cousin Burak sent him a picture of my ass he found on the internet?”
“Allah, Allah!We don’t have to talk that way at the table!” Mom cast a horrified look at Aria, who’d focused her energies on tasting different jams.
Fortunately, Mom interpreted her disinterest as tactfulness. “See! She’s pretending she doesn’t hear us.”
“She knows about the pictures.” I looked my mom in the eye. “Everybody does.”
“You made sure of that,” Dad scoffed.
My gut sizzled. “What do you mean? I didn’t take the photos or post them everywhere.”
“You chose to parade yourself all over the place. I gave you a job at my store, a way to earn an honest living. Maybe it’s not that glamorous, selling antiques... but it’s a respectable job. Youchoseto become a celebrity. And that way, everything you do is everybody’s business. That’s your choice.” He drew a breath and tried to stifle his cough into a napkin, producing a muffled bark that somehow sounded worse than a cough.
I sighed, not wanting to process his words. Emir averted my eyes. I knew my brother didn’t want the antiques gig, either –inheriting a dusty pile of old stuff that didn’t sell, and he was the firstborn, poised to take over the ownership whereas I would have been running errands.
“I can’t undo it even if I wanted to. Once everyone knows who you are—”
“Then you behave accordingly and keep your pants on!” He coughed into his napkin again.
“Allah, Allah!” Mom shook her head.
