Cherish Hard
Page 26
“I do.” Nayna’s face fell. “But today I truly realized just how much my father loves her.” Wet in her eyes, her voice thick. “She was always his favorite—the one who could make him laugh, coax him to give us extra sweets, or let us stay up to watch TV. She was the sister with the spirit, the child full of color and joy and wildness. That’s part of the reason I’ve always loved her too.”
Personally, Ísa had always thought Madhuri an attention-seeking flibbertigibbet, but she figured everyone had blinders about something. Nayna’s happened to be about her sister.
Nayna tore off a piece of chicken with her teeth even as a tear rolled down her face. “Today I saw that, despite everything, she’s still his favorite. I don’t mind that, I really don’t. It’s just… I can’t even get him to give me a ‘well done’ hug.”
Another gnawing bite of the chicken as she sobbed. “I’m trying so hard to be the perfect daughter, Ísa, and it just struck me today that none of it matters.” She gesticulated wildly with her drumstick. “I will never be well-behaved enough, never ever follow the rules well enough, never see my father’s eyes light up with pride. I’m fucking killing myself toeing the line, and it doesn’t fucking matter!”
In all their years together, Ísa had only heard Nayna swear maybe five times. So she didn’t hug her best friend—she could tell the other woman was as furiously angry as she was sad. Instead, she said, “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but part of the reason you went the whole arranged-marriage route was to make your parents happy. Are you rethinking that?”
Nayna put down the drumstick. “This isn’t just about my father. There’s also my grandmother. I want her to be happy—she never got to have the big wedding for her granddaughter that she dreamed about while we were growing up. I want to give her that.”
Ísa scowled. “Your grandma loves you unconditionally, you egg.” Ísa had been hugged by those same soft arms, her impression of Nayna’s grandmother a fusion of textures and scent—the softness of the white sari that was her daily wear, the hint of incense that clung to her because of her early-morning prayers, the fancy perfume she loved and that Nayna gave her for her birthday every year.
“She’s had a lot of pain in her life,” Nayna countered. “A lot of loss. I want to give her this one bright, shining moment.”
“You really think she’ll be happy when she realizes how unhappy you are?”
Nayna stared at her empty plate. “I should’ve bought ice cream when I got the salad.”
“Please,” Ísa muttered. “Like I’d ever run out of ice cream. But read this in the meantime.” After pulling up Michelle’s messages, she handed her phone to Nayna. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Nayna was laughing in open glee by the time Ísa returned with the two-liter tub of rocky road ice cream and two spoons. “If you ever find the man who did this to Cody’s face—and to Suzanne’s precious wedding,” Nayna said, her eyes shining, “you need to offer him a blow job at least. It’d only be polite.”
Ísa’s face went hot red between one second and the next.
Of course Nayna caught it. “You know who it was!” she accused. “Tell me!”
“I’m not sure.” Ísa thrust the cold container of ice cream into Nayna’s lap.
Not the least distracted by the cold of the ice cream, Nayna waggled her eyebrows. “Anyone to whom you’d be happy to offer a lusty sexual favor?”
When Ísa’s breath turned shallow, her face even hotter, Nayna’s smile cracked her face. “It was him, wasn’t it? The hot gardener? The one you went skinny-dipping with at the party? I knew he couldn’t be an asshole, not with the way he looks at you! And oh my God! He avenged your honor!”
“I’ll tell you when I know.” Ísa pointed her spoon at her grinning best friend. “And I thought you were depressed.”
“Hearing about Slimeball Schumer’s comeuppance has had a reviving effect.” Having opened the container, she put it between them and dug in.
One spoonful later, she said, “Ísa, seriously—if Mr. Sexy Blue Eyes punched out Cody for you, he might be a keeper.”
Ísa stabbed her own spoon into the ice cream. “He’s twenty-three.” And definitely, absolutely not anything like the kind of man for whom Ísa was searching. Even if he haunted her in her dreams. Even if she kept seeing that image of him on the stairs, a maturity to him that belied his age. Even if she kept hearing him whisper “spitfire” in her ear while promising to lock her up using handcuffs.
* * *
AFTER FINALLY GETTING HOME AT eight that evening, Sailor dug out a frozen meal. He showered while it was cooking in the microwave, then pulled on a pair of low-hanging shorts and, taking the meal to the kitchen table where he did most of his theoretical work, sat down to fine-tune the plans for Fast Organic.
Jacqueline’s assistant had sent him a message to say that a representative from the company would be meeting him tomorrow at three at the first Fast Organic site to go over the details. She hadn’t sent him a name, noting that she’d send through final details tomorrow, once this new project was integrated into everyone’s schedules. Given Jacqueline’s driven nature, the rep had to be someone equally intelligent and competent; they’d no doubt have countless questions.
Sailor wanted to have all the answers ready.
After he finished this, he’d have to get to work on his taxes. The problem with being a one-man shop was that he had to do everything. Which didn’t leave a lot of time for extracurricular activities. He played rugby during the season, ran for exercise during the off-season, but that was about it. Today, however, he decided that he needed to add “flirting with a cute redhead” to his schedule.
When he was around her, he felt young in a way he hadn’t felt since he was fifteen and had set himself the goal that drove him every single day. She made him realize that he’d put part of himself into deep freeze a long time ago—but there was no ice around her and never had been. His redhead had hit him straight in the gut from the first night he’d laid eyes on her.
A man would have to be very stupid to walk away from that.
Sailor wasn’t stupid.
He was also very, very determined.
The cactus was just stage one of his plan to lure his redhead into his lair.
* * *
ÍSA RAN INTO HER LEAST favorite person in the entire world the next morning after she parked her car in the Crafty Corners parking lot. She hadn’t slept well, tormented by dreams of a man with devil-blue eyes who teased her body without ever offering relief. What she needed was a tall black coffee. What she got was a tall, blackhearted swamp creature.
“Hello, Trevor,” she said with a tight smile and tried to walk past him.
“Hey.” He put his hands on her upper arms. “Is that any way to talk to your stepbrother?”
Not about to put up with unwanted contact, Ísa deliberately stepped back. If he touched her again, she’d break out the painful little-finger twist she’d learned in a self-defense class. “I don’t think it works that way when parents marry after their children are adults.” It wasn’t the first time she’d made the point.
Personally, Ísa had always thought Madhuri an attention-seeking flibbertigibbet, but she figured everyone had blinders about something. Nayna’s happened to be about her sister.
Nayna tore off a piece of chicken with her teeth even as a tear rolled down her face. “Today I saw that, despite everything, she’s still his favorite. I don’t mind that, I really don’t. It’s just… I can’t even get him to give me a ‘well done’ hug.”
Another gnawing bite of the chicken as she sobbed. “I’m trying so hard to be the perfect daughter, Ísa, and it just struck me today that none of it matters.” She gesticulated wildly with her drumstick. “I will never be well-behaved enough, never ever follow the rules well enough, never see my father’s eyes light up with pride. I’m fucking killing myself toeing the line, and it doesn’t fucking matter!”
In all their years together, Ísa had only heard Nayna swear maybe five times. So she didn’t hug her best friend—she could tell the other woman was as furiously angry as she was sad. Instead, she said, “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but part of the reason you went the whole arranged-marriage route was to make your parents happy. Are you rethinking that?”
Nayna put down the drumstick. “This isn’t just about my father. There’s also my grandmother. I want her to be happy—she never got to have the big wedding for her granddaughter that she dreamed about while we were growing up. I want to give her that.”
Ísa scowled. “Your grandma loves you unconditionally, you egg.” Ísa had been hugged by those same soft arms, her impression of Nayna’s grandmother a fusion of textures and scent—the softness of the white sari that was her daily wear, the hint of incense that clung to her because of her early-morning prayers, the fancy perfume she loved and that Nayna gave her for her birthday every year.
“She’s had a lot of pain in her life,” Nayna countered. “A lot of loss. I want to give her this one bright, shining moment.”
“You really think she’ll be happy when she realizes how unhappy you are?”
Nayna stared at her empty plate. “I should’ve bought ice cream when I got the salad.”
“Please,” Ísa muttered. “Like I’d ever run out of ice cream. But read this in the meantime.” After pulling up Michelle’s messages, she handed her phone to Nayna. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Nayna was laughing in open glee by the time Ísa returned with the two-liter tub of rocky road ice cream and two spoons. “If you ever find the man who did this to Cody’s face—and to Suzanne’s precious wedding,” Nayna said, her eyes shining, “you need to offer him a blow job at least. It’d only be polite.”
Ísa’s face went hot red between one second and the next.
Of course Nayna caught it. “You know who it was!” she accused. “Tell me!”
“I’m not sure.” Ísa thrust the cold container of ice cream into Nayna’s lap.
Not the least distracted by the cold of the ice cream, Nayna waggled her eyebrows. “Anyone to whom you’d be happy to offer a lusty sexual favor?”
When Ísa’s breath turned shallow, her face even hotter, Nayna’s smile cracked her face. “It was him, wasn’t it? The hot gardener? The one you went skinny-dipping with at the party? I knew he couldn’t be an asshole, not with the way he looks at you! And oh my God! He avenged your honor!”
“I’ll tell you when I know.” Ísa pointed her spoon at her grinning best friend. “And I thought you were depressed.”
“Hearing about Slimeball Schumer’s comeuppance has had a reviving effect.” Having opened the container, she put it between them and dug in.
One spoonful later, she said, “Ísa, seriously—if Mr. Sexy Blue Eyes punched out Cody for you, he might be a keeper.”
Ísa stabbed her own spoon into the ice cream. “He’s twenty-three.” And definitely, absolutely not anything like the kind of man for whom Ísa was searching. Even if he haunted her in her dreams. Even if she kept seeing that image of him on the stairs, a maturity to him that belied his age. Even if she kept hearing him whisper “spitfire” in her ear while promising to lock her up using handcuffs.
* * *
AFTER FINALLY GETTING HOME AT eight that evening, Sailor dug out a frozen meal. He showered while it was cooking in the microwave, then pulled on a pair of low-hanging shorts and, taking the meal to the kitchen table where he did most of his theoretical work, sat down to fine-tune the plans for Fast Organic.
Jacqueline’s assistant had sent him a message to say that a representative from the company would be meeting him tomorrow at three at the first Fast Organic site to go over the details. She hadn’t sent him a name, noting that she’d send through final details tomorrow, once this new project was integrated into everyone’s schedules. Given Jacqueline’s driven nature, the rep had to be someone equally intelligent and competent; they’d no doubt have countless questions.
Sailor wanted to have all the answers ready.
After he finished this, he’d have to get to work on his taxes. The problem with being a one-man shop was that he had to do everything. Which didn’t leave a lot of time for extracurricular activities. He played rugby during the season, ran for exercise during the off-season, but that was about it. Today, however, he decided that he needed to add “flirting with a cute redhead” to his schedule.
When he was around her, he felt young in a way he hadn’t felt since he was fifteen and had set himself the goal that drove him every single day. She made him realize that he’d put part of himself into deep freeze a long time ago—but there was no ice around her and never had been. His redhead had hit him straight in the gut from the first night he’d laid eyes on her.
A man would have to be very stupid to walk away from that.
Sailor wasn’t stupid.
He was also very, very determined.
The cactus was just stage one of his plan to lure his redhead into his lair.
* * *
ÍSA RAN INTO HER LEAST favorite person in the entire world the next morning after she parked her car in the Crafty Corners parking lot. She hadn’t slept well, tormented by dreams of a man with devil-blue eyes who teased her body without ever offering relief. What she needed was a tall black coffee. What she got was a tall, blackhearted swamp creature.
“Hello, Trevor,” she said with a tight smile and tried to walk past him.
“Hey.” He put his hands on her upper arms. “Is that any way to talk to your stepbrother?”
Not about to put up with unwanted contact, Ísa deliberately stepped back. If he touched her again, she’d break out the painful little-finger twist she’d learned in a self-defense class. “I don’t think it works that way when parents marry after their children are adults.” It wasn’t the first time she’d made the point.
