The Sinclairs
The familiar rhythm of Sunday dinner had always been my favorite part of the week.
I glanced across the table at Lily, who was animatedly recounting the latest catastrophe to hit sophomore year. Judging by the dramatic hand gestures, someone had stolen someone else’s boyfriend. Or lunch. With Lily, it was hard to tell.
Dad sat at the head of the table, leisurely cutting into his tiramisu while wearing the patient expression that politely said, Wow... how fascinating, despite clearly having no idea who any of the people in her story were.
Mom simply smiled.
She always wore that smile whenever one of us launched into a story that was ridiculous, immature, or completely insignificant, yet somehow presented as though civilization itself depended on the outcome.
I love them.
I let myself sink into the warmth of the moment.
Then my gaze drifted to the two empty chairs.
My smile faded.
Teo had been in Madrid for nearly two weeks negotiating another acquisition. I missed his effortless charm, his outrageous flirting, and his ability to turn even grocery shopping into an adventure. Thankfully, he still sends me terrible memes every morning and call every couple of days to make sure I hadn’t forgotten he was everyone’s favorite Sinclair.
Also to interrogate me on whether I’d watched the meme.
Apparently, a simple thumbs-up emoji wasn’t considered sufficient evidence.
Luca...
That was different.
I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him.
The worst part wasn’t even that he was busy.
It was that getting hold of him had become nearly impossible.
Phone calls usually went unanswered. If he did pick up, I would be lucky to get thirty seconds before hearing...
“I’m in a meeting.”
“I’ve only got a minute.”
“Can I call you later?”
He never did.
Texting wasn’t much better.
Just like he ran the company, Luca apparently believed all messages should be answered within four to five business days.
If they were answered at all.
Most of the time I’d get something wonderfully expressive like...
Yes.
No.
K.
Not sure.
Or my personal favorite—
Those three little dots dancing across my screen.
Long enough to convince me he was about to say something meaningful.
Then...
Nothing.
The dots disappeared.
No message.
Ghosted.
I sighed.
Apparently louder than I’d intended because Mom looked up from her plate.
“How’s the new office, Addie?”
I couldn’t help but wince.
Not because the office wasn’t incredible.
It was.
It was wonderful. A real office. A door that closed. Enough quiet to focus. After years in a cubicle at the satellite office, it still felt like a luxury.
Custom furniture.
Fresh flowers that somehow appeared every Monday morning.
I knew better.
“It’s wonderful,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my smile.
“Honestly... it’s more than I could’ve imagined.”
And it was.
The Sinclairs had given me more than I’d ever dared dream of.
A home.
A family.
A future.
I had promised myself years ago that I would never take any of it for granted.
Not a room.
Not an opportunity.
Not even an office I probably didn’t deserve.
“I’m glad,” Mom said with a warm smile. “It’s only fair. Few people have to put up with their brothers twenty-four hours a day... and then report to them Monday morning.”
“Well, we don’t really see each other regularly the way officemates do. They’re usually buried in meetings or traveling for work. But yes, I suppose that’s a fair trade.”
“I want to come see it on Friday after school!” Lily declared, a small pout forming on her lips. “I told Luca to take me last Friday, but after we got ice cream, he just drove me straight home.”
I blinked.
That was... interesting.
So he had time for ice cream.
Time to drive Lily around.
But somehow, not enough time to stop by my office.
Not even once.
It had been almost three months since I’d transferred to headquarters.
I pushed the thought away before it could settle.
“Of course,” I said, smiling at her. “I’ll give you the official grand tour.”
Lily beamed with delight.
I was still hung up on the thought when—
“Addie.”
Mom's voice gently pulled me back.
“Hmm?” I looked up, savoring the last bite of tiramisu.
“I think I’ll pack some dessert for you to take to Luca.” She smiled fondly. “You know how much he loves my tiramisu.”
She shook her head with a sigh.
“I really shouldn’t indulge him for skipping Sunday dinners, but I know he’s been working far too hard.”
Dad nodded in agreement.
“I wouldn’t wait until tomorrow,” he said.
“It won’t taste nearly as good. Just drop it off at Luca’s condo on your way home.”
My heart skipped.
For one brief, terrifying second, I thought they’d somehow found out.
They hadn’t.
Of course they hadn’t.
No one knew.
A month ago, I’d quietly moved out of the condo they’d given me and into a tiny one-bedroom apartment in the Valley.
I’d never mentioned it.
Mostly because there never seemed to be a good time.
Mostly because I knew they’d insist I move back.
And partly because... I’d gotten away with it.
I usually come to the estate for Sunday dinner.
No one really stopped by my condo.
Well... except Teo.
Thankfully, he’d been busy travelling the last few months and the times he was home, he barely had time to go anywhere.
“...Sure,” I heard myself say.
The word escaped before my brain had a chance to object.
A forty-five-minute detour in the opposite direction after dinner?
Well...
That wasn’t so bad. There’s rarely traffic on Sundays.
By the end of the evening, Lily walked me to the front door.
She wrapped her arms around me in one of her signature bear hugs, already looking suspiciously close to tears.
“You know you can just move back,” she mumbled into my shoulder.
I laughed.
“Lily...”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.”
I’d moved out nearly five years ago, yet she still acted as though I’d just left yesterday and have crossed an ocean instead of relocating just across the city.
She was taller than me now, making it impossible to ruffle the top of her head like I used to. Instead, I reached up and gave one of her long strands of hair a playful tug.
She pouted.
I smiled and kissed her forehead before heading to my car.
