What's for Breakfast?

Five: His Little Sister

The offer takes me by surprise. "If you're bored, you can start working."

He half-smiles. "I'll take part in our business soon. I'm just enjoying my remaining free time. So, what do you say?"

"I'm going to work there, Derek," I answer, biting on the chicken. It's so crispy!

"That's alright. I can do something else while you're doing your job. I haven't been to Tagaytay in years. I bet there'll be a lot of exciting things to see."

I leer at him. He throws his arms up in the air. "I won't be hitting on girls, I promise. Your brother already informed me of your concerns."

"I don't want strangers here. Especially in my room," I defend myself. "This isn't a motel."

Derek heaves a sigh.

"Again, I am truly sorry. I was wrong to mess around in your room. I apologize from the bottom of my heart," he mutters sincerely. "And you're right. We haven't seen each other for years. I should have considered you're not the same Sam I once knew."

I take another sip. So, he is truly aware that he was gone for a long time. He knows things have changed.

With a teasing smirk, he adds, "Except you're still single."

I scowl at him. "Shut up."

"So? Want me to accompany you?"

"Still a no."

"Why not?"

I adjust my blazer. "I won't be able to focus with you there."

"Why?"

Because you're so damn fine!

"Because I don't want you to be bored, so I'll talk to you. And I'll lose my focus. I don't want that."

He grumbles, "Fine. But if you change your mind, give me a call."

"I won't be changing my mind. I don't have the time to babysit you there."

"Whoa, babysitting? Maybe you're forgetting that I'm two years older than you," he says, indignant.

"One year and eleven months, to be precise."

"Still older."

"Act like it," I respond, then I finish my wine and my salad. I stand up from the floor.

"You're going already?" He looks up at me. Am I seeing a pout on his lips?

"Yep. I'm exhausted from today's work," I reply, disregarding his puppy eyes. "Thanks for the meal. Give me your plate. I'll do the dishes."

He hands over his empty plate, and I make my way to the kitchen. I'm pleasantly surprised by how clean it is. If it were up to me, the kitchen would likely be a total disaster. Derek follows and leans on the counter, holding a glass of wine, while I start washing the dishes.

"What are you looking at?" I ask. His stare is unnerving.

"So... What else is new with you?"

"Don't act like you care, Derek."

His jaw drops. "That's rude."

"Oh, please. You're just asking so you can tease me."

He chuckles. "Hey, that's not true. I do care. I want to know how you're doing."

I don't believe him. If he truly cared, he would have tried to contact me during those years he was away. He only spoke to Patrick whenever he called. I think we only talked a few times, but those moments were brief birthday and holiday greetings.