Roman coughs, choking on his drink. “Jesus, Lola.”
I swallow and smirk across the table, letting my gaze linger on the dark brown scruff covering his jaw for a moment too long.
Mase points his fork at me. “I’m serious. What is it?”
I sigh and place my cutlery on the well-loved wooden table. I wipe my hands on my leggings and give myself a pep talk.
Everything is fine. You didn’t just get a threatening text. You’re no longer a traumatized teenager. And you aren’t sitting across from the man you’ve been in love with since you were twelve.
“Okay, so I have something to tell you all.” I dig my teeth into my lip, peeking over at my parents.
“More traveling?” my dad asks, picking up his beer.
“Uh, no. Actually, kind of the opposite. I’m sort of setting down roots. I want to open a coffee shop.”
My mom pauses mid-way through serving up more potatoes and my dad twists in his seat to face me.
I grip the edges of my chair. “I signed the lease on the location this morning. Technically it’s not a coffee shop yet but it’s going to be. I’m going to make it one. I got to sample a load of different coffee beans from around the world while I was traveling and one of the baristas I met taught me about the whole process—the roasting and the bloom and extraction—and I kind of loved it so um, yeah.” I stop rambling and press my lips together, feeling like a meerkat as I look between them.
For the longest moment no one says anything. Voices from the radio drift through from where Mom left it playing in the kitchen. I forget to breathe.
Then Mase screws up his napkin on the table and crosses his arms. “Here we go again,” he mutters.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. My eyes sting but I refuse to let any tears fall. I wait for either of my parents to tell him off but Roman’s the only one to say anything.
“Mase,” he shakes his head, “just hear her out.”
My brother’s face contorts in disdain. “No. She’s twenty-four now, when is she going to stop making impulsive decisions that do nothing but land her in trouble?”
“It’s not impulsive—” I try to explain but he cuts me off.
“We can’t keep bailing you out of every stupid whim you have.” His words hit me in the chest, and I struggle to take my next breath. I know my family thinks I’m a little unpredictable, but Mase’s never been quite so cruel to my face. I look to my parents again but neither of them jump to my defense.
“Mase—” Roman starts but I cut him off. This day has officially been too much for me to handle.
“You know what? Forget it.” I push back from the table, the chair legs screeching against the floor. “I don’t know why I expected anything else.”
Finally, my mother speaks. “Sweetheart, wait. Your brother’s just worried. We all are. This whole idea seems to have come out of the blue and you turned up at home all of a sudden last month, without telling us why, and we’re just concerned.”
My dad runs a hand over his graying beard and clears his throat. “Your mom’s right, Lola. Why don’t we sit down and talk it through? There’s a cooling off period of fourteen days, you can back out of any leases. Then, if you still want to do this, we can talk it through and do it properly.”
I want to leave but shock roots me to the spot. “I’m not breaking my lease.”
Mom reaches for her necklace, her arthritic fingers fiddling with the sea glass beads.
Dad angles his chair to face me. “Yes, you are.” He fixes me with a firm look. “I know you like to be independent, but thisisn’t the sort of thing you do by yourself. If you’re serious about this, then we can look at colleges again. There are some great business schools you could apply to.”
“Stop it.” The words finally dislodge from my throat. “Just stop. I’m not going to college, I’m not breaking my lease, and I’m not talking about this anymore.” I stand up, my whole body fizzing. I shake my head, trying not to look at my brother’s scowling face.
“I wanted to do this right,” I say. “I know I don’t get a lot right but I really, really tried. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment, but I’m not going to stick around and let you ruin this for me. The shop I’m leasing comes with an apartment. I’m moving out.”
My mom’s face falls. Dad just looks tired, and Mase’s gaze is scathing.
I can’t bring myself to look at Roman. I’m held together with sticky tape and stubbornness right now, I don’t think I could bear it if he was just another face that doesn’t believe in me.
“I’ve packed a bag already,” I say, staring at the driftwood decoration on the wall. Mase and I found it washed up on Surfer’s Bay one winter as kids. I love my home, I really do. But I need to get out of here.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days to pick up the rest of my stuff.” I leave without looking back.
