The Right Kind of Wrong: A Brother's Best Friend Romance Fabiola Francisco (free ebook reader .TXT) 📖

apartment. I came here to experience the culture, the people, and the lifestyle. I’m not doing any of that. If I stop truly living and become a hermit like I have been, then living in Spain is pointless, and I might as well move back home.

Home. That’s my current challenge. Where exactly is home?

chapter 27

Camden

Your visa has been denied.

I stare in disbelief at the letter I received in the mail today. My heart halts with each word I re-read as everything crashes down around me. I wasn’t expecting to receive a response so soon after I submitted my application, and yet here it is a month after I submitted the form. I expected it to take the full three months they said it could take, and I had high hopes for an approval.

I slump back on my couch and run a hand down my face in exasperation. My other fist clenches around the paper. How am I going to give Ally this news? I’ve been promising her that we’ll be together soon, and now that bubble has burst. I’m here in Virginia, and she’s in Spain. A vast ocean interferes with our destiny.

My phone rings again, and I silence the call. Ally’s been calling, but I haven’t had the heart to answer and tell her what’s going on. Instead, I keep sending her to voicemail.

I’ve already missed a month of watching her grow and transform, a month that I haven’t been there to comfort her and hold her. I miss her like hell, and the idea of not seeing her for at least another two months kills me.

I grab my phone off the coffee table and stand, stretching my arms over my head. I need to get out of this apartment before I lose my damn mind. I call Luke to see if he’s free to have a few beers and head out to a local bar. After the shit letter I received, I need to clear my mind and have a drink. I also need to figure out the best way to tell Ally that I won’t be moving to Spain anytime soon, and I wish I could tell her in person. Video calls are great for a while, but they get old fast. I want good old fashioned communication—face to face and skin to skin.

“Hey, man.” Luke sits on the empty stool next to me as I sip my beer. I didn’t bother waiting for him to arrive.

“Hey.” I lift my chin.

“Not a good day?” His eyebrows lift on his forehead.

“Not a good month,” I say through clenched teeth.

“What’s going on?”

“My visa for Spain got denied. No long-term stay as I had hoped, and I need to break the news to Ally. It’s been rough being apart, and I don’t want to cause her more stress during the last trimester of her pregnancy.” I sigh, leaning back on the stool.

“Ah, fuck. Sorry to hear that. Is there another option?” Luke grabs the beer the waiter places in front of him and takes a drink while I respond.

“I don’t know. If we were married, then I’d be granted a visa. That’s what I was told.”

“Don’t you think you’ll eventually get to that point? Why not do it now and save yourself the headache and stress of living apart?” Luke eyes me over the rim of his glass, his shaggy blond hair falling over his eyes.

“Because that’s not romantic. I don’t want a shotgun wedding just because she’s pregnant or because I need a visa to live in another country.” I shake my head.

“Look at you talking about romance.” Luke chuckles, waving the waiter down. “You want something to eat?” He looks at me.

“Sure,” I shrug, wondering if marriage is the solution to all our problems or the beginning of bigger ones.

Yeah, I want that with Ally, more than I ever thought I would, but I don’t want to rush anything or use something like a visa as an excuse to get married. I want to get down on one knee because we love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together. I want it to be natural and honest, not because of some legal deadline stabbing our sides.

Luke and I order burgers and fries and another round of beers. It’s nice to relax and talk to someone, whether it be about my current situation or sports. I’ll take any distraction at the moment.

After I get back home with zero clarity, I decide to call Ally back. She’s probably worried sick that I haven’t answered her calls.

“Hello?” Her sleep-induced voice feeds my guilt.

“Hey, did I wake you?” I grab a water bottle from the fridge and drop on the couch, lifting one leg onto the coffee table.

“No, not really,” she lies, and I chuckle.

“Kiwi, you wanna talk tomorrow? You sound exhausted.” I smile, imagining her with messy hair and puffy eyes.

“No, talk to me. Are you okay? I called you today, but you never answered.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie. I don’t want her to lose sleep over this, especially with how late it is over there. I didn’t take the time change into account when I hit her name on my screen.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just stressed.” I’ll tell her tomorrow when she’s well-rested and has the entire day to process the news.

“I know, me, too. I miss you,” her voice is gruff from sleep.

“I miss you, too, Kiwi. Miss holding you and kissing you and watching you experience this pregnancy. I hate that I can’t be there.” The reality of all I’m missing hits me like a freight train, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve gotta get to her.

“I know,” she whispers after a beat. “This is hard, and I hate that we’re essentially living two different lives.”

“We’ll be together soon,” I add before realizing soon won’t get here fast enough. “Go to sleep. I’ll call you when I wake up.”

“Promise?” Her voice shakes, and it kills me.

“Promise.” I give her every ounce