Page 78 of My Lucky Star
Everything he said made sense, but his presence bugged me. Especially the way he’d walked in without knocking, as if there couldn’t possibly be any reason for privacy. Was it because he trusted me to stick with the plan, or because he was an ass? I could never really tell.
I shook my head, following Aria’s example of opening my suitcase on the bed. She grabbed her toothbrush and retreated to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Again, I followed her example, letting Emir stand there, shifting his weight from side to side, looking increasingly annoyed.
With a minty fresh mouth, I returned to my suitcase and took out Mom’s presents, handing them to Emir. “Can you deliver these?”
Aria joined us and picked up the bottle of honey I was holding, her eyes huge. “This is UMF twenty-five!”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s like the rarest superfood on the planet.”
I shrugged. “I picked those up for my mom.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “This stuff fights bacteria. Like, serious, antibiotic-resistant bacteria. This level of purity would be ridiculously expensive.”
I couldn’t remember how much I’d paid for it. I probably hadn’t considered that at all. I felt Emir’s eyes on my back but fought the urge to turn around.
“What do you mean by ridiculously expensive?” My brother asked, an edge to his voice.
“Well, Cem knows. He bought it.” Aria stared at me in confusion.
“I... didn’t look at the prices.” I heaved the rest of my suitcase contents on the bed for the cleaners to deal with. It was probably dirty anyway. “What are we talking about, thousands?”
Aria blushed, handing the honey to Emir. “No, like a hundred dollars, but we’re talking about two hundred grams of honey, so I think it’s ridiculous.”
I let out a sigh of relief and noticed Emir doing the same. “Yeah, absolutely. I wish I could have you explain the health benefits to Mom. She’d be over the moon.”
As soon as I said it, I felt the pain. Why wasn’t she here as her amazing self, as a guest of honor? My mother would love her. She’d be shocked I was seeing someone who lived so far away, but she’d probably double down on trying to win her over, to make sure she loved our country and never left. We could double team her. I turned to Emir, who read my mind.
“Don’t even think about telling her,” he hissed. “If Mom finds out, everyone finds out.”
My mother couldn’t keep secrets, not even the small, fun ones. She ruined every surprise party, looking like the cat who got the cream. It only took a couple of clever questions from someone like Emir, who hated surprises, to bring it all out. Still, I couldn’t help my flare of anger.
“Get out.” I pointed at the door, indicating that either he move or I’d remove him. “We’ll pack up and shower and meet you outside.”
Emir took the gifts and left, and I locked the door behind him, enjoying the definitive ‘click’ of the bolt sliding into its slot.
“What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?” Aria asked, taking a step forward.
“I just... wish things were different.” I sighed, looking at her tiny suitcase on the bed. She’d already closed it, after removing a box of chocolates. I took her hands in mine and held tight, drawing strength from the touch. “I’m so happy you’re here, but I never considered how weird it would feel. I wish you were here as yourself. You deserve better than this.”
She peered at me through her lashes. “I don’t deserve anything. I haven’t done anything yet. Let’s go with the plan, see if I can actually help you, and if anyone believes I’m Burcu... and if I manage to be of some use, then you can buy me a present.” She grinned and my heart squeezed.
“Deal.”
“But no hundred-dollar honey.”
“Okay.”
“Or anything else that costs like crazy, especially if it tastes or works the same as the ten-dollar alternative. You know those really expensive pens rich people gift to each other?”
I laughed at her expression. I had a couple of the ones she was talking about at the back of my closet.
She gave me a hint of a smile, but her brows drew together. “I’ve never understood that. Because you can’t use a pen like that, not unless it’s to sign a contract on world peace. So, in the end, you get less use out of it than from a regular pen. What’s the point?”
She looked so adorably indignant I couldn’t resist. “Well, I’ve used my diamond-studded Montblanc to sign a few arms and stomachs. And a boob, once. It was... smooth.”
“The pen or the boob?” She glared at me.
