Hard Way (17 page)

“Things have come up.”

Was that true? She’d gotten wrapped up in Dash.
Again.
Managed to let him rule her life without trying. Wouldn’t she have made time for Jake had she wanted it, like taking him up on drinks while Liam was at the boxing match? Wouldn’t she have invited
him
to Saturday’s Yakshagana performance instead of the man she wanted to divorce? She was tempted to make the same offer to Jake, just to compare their reactions.

“I understand.” He said it with such sympathy darkening his eyes that she thought maybe he actually did. “This Miami trip will be good for us both. I’ll be back next Saturday and we can talk everything through.” He released her hand with a pat. “We’re really good together, Sunita. I know that could be long term. I’ve told you what I want from life.”

“It’s not going to be a quick process.”

She stopped talking because she didn’t want to be squabbling with
two
men. No one listened when she said she didn’t want to have kids—because that’s what he’d talked about regarding his future. Kids. Fucking picket fences. She’d worked too hard to give up the profession she loved, only to take on a role that didn’t…
suit her
? Was she even allowed to think that? Never once had she ever felt maternal. The idea was nice, but the actual doing—taking on another set of huge responsibilities—made her legs shake. She already had too many plates in the air.

Christ, she and Jake had gone to dinner a few times, had a few drinks. A single near-kiss would’ve been an actual one with an extra glass of wine that night. They were essentially still colleagues with potential, but he was halfway to minivans and school runs.

“In the meantime,” he continued, “I’m here for you when you’re done with him. We’ll be back in Washington before you know it.”

Dully, absently, she nodded. A drop of condensation ran down the side of her plastic cup. He was here. He was waiting.

Dash would never wait. He’d never be patient or calm and let her solve things at her own speed. He
took
. He took her when he wanted her.

She shouldn’t like that half as much as she did.

Saturday night,
taking
was all she could think of, especially with Dash sitting next to her in the folding chairs at the community center. Things had become complicated. Three nights had passed. They hadn’t…
done
anything. Maybe Liam felt as she did, that the chasm between rape games and sharing morning coffee was too wide to traverse without moving forward. Making a decision. She couldn’t think of their time together as “just sex” anymore, but neither could she trust her heart and hopes into his keeping again. Into
their
keeping. How could either of them trust the safety of a marriage they’d so easily taken for granted?

Her toes bounced and bounced until he reached out with that long-fingered hand and cupped her knee.

“Calm down,” he said quietly. “I’m sure I’m going to love it.”

“Love it?” She snorted indelicately. “I bet you’ve got a bridge to sell me too.”

“It’s big, got lovely views and is a nice golden color.” He gave her one of his patented sharky grins.

“Will you give me a great deal on it?”

“Of course.” He leaned so close that she felt his breath on her neck. “I’ll bring the price down even further for certain considerations.”

She shivered against the sudden rush that filled her.

But guilt followed quickly behind.

Should she have told him about Jake’s return to Vegas? Or that he was leaving for Miami the next night? It wasn’t as if they’d done anything more or less appropriate than when they’d both been in DC. In fact, she was far less tempted now. Just before close of business for the week, he’d asked her out. Dinner and then dancing up at the casinos on the strip.

So much for patience and waiting.

She’d given in to her curiosity and told him about her plans to see the Yakshagana performance. He’d shrugged and backed off. He hadn’t even tried to convince her that experiencing a form of Indian opera would be interesting and, at the very least, a way to spend time with her. For the first time, he’d almost seemed embarrassed by his reaction—as if he, too, realized his lack of enthusiasm.

Liam was there, beside her, still smiling in a way that felt real.

She felt as if her heart were being dissolved, not broken. This process wouldn’t be so kind as to be quick.

To be honest, she hadn’t thought Dash would give her any trouble about a divorce. Maybe he’d storm around for a bit, but ultimately he’d give her a kiss on the forehead and wave her off, saying it was nice to have shared a grand time. He hadn’t seemed invested in anything for a long time—and nothing with the intensity of their forced games. He lit up. She could feel the excitement that wasn’t entirely sexual, as if pieces were aligning and this was merely the first of many. By contrast, her mention of entering another martial arts tournament had resulted in a slow, measured interest.

It didn’t make sense. He’d always liked kicking ass, and he’d been so damn good at it. She’d never understood why he gave it up.

The lights dimmed and she was able to push him away, despite her own wants and his considerably close presence. “Hush, now. It’s starting.”

Three musicians sat before a simple royal-blue background, each with traditional
chande
and
maddale
drums. The two masked actors provided melodic accompaniment through the use of handheld cymbals—the Yakshagana bells.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, and her knee started bouncing again. What the hell had she been thinking, bringing Dash here?

He wasn’t going to get it. Between the garish gold, yellow and red costumes and the enormous headdresses, the performance would be completely inaccessible to westerners. Besides, it wasn’t as if Dash knew even a word of Hindi, let alone Kannada, the language of her parents’ home state in India.

He’d be so damned lost.

Except when she peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes, he appeared fascinated. He’d turned that eagle-sharp gaze on the man portraying Bheeshma. When Liam was focused, he didn’t miss a thing. It’s what made him a brilliant pilot—and probably why he was so good at messing with her head. He could decipher hieroglyphics if he stared at them long enough.

Then the most unexpected thing happened. When Bheeshma sang…Dash’s eyes drifted shut. Not out of boredom. Not as if he’d fallen asleep. He seemed as transported by the emotion of the moment as Sunny was.

That’s when she let the pins-and-needles level of worry fade. She could enjoy herself. The ritual of the opera was as reassuring as the company’s variations were novel. That blend of old and new spoke to her, as if
everything
could be meshed in a way that made sense, remained beautiful and only got stronger with time.

Throughout, she never forgot that Liam sat next to her. She couldn’t had she wanted to, not when she’d both feared and hoped for so much from this evening, and not when his hand touched hers. Cool and dry, his fingers looped through hers. He squeezed at a moment of particular depth, as the drums reached a pattering crescendo. That’s how he held her through the remainder of the show.

When the lights came up, he lifted her knuckles to his mouth and deposited the lightest kiss. She melted. There was no two ways about it. Tears burned behind her eyes. He didn’t joke, he didn’t throw out some fake grin. He just said, “That was cool.”

Cool.
Like a T-shirt or a skateboarder could be cool. Yet she was so stupid drunk on him that she preferred his banal assessment to anything more ornate. She’d have thought the same thing had they been in a fancy restaurant, with the waiter offering the cork from a bottle of wine. Liam didn’t know a damn thing about wine. Any forced bullshit about the rich bouquet of the vintage… No way.

All she’d ever wanted was him. The
real
him—whoever that was now. If calling a thousand-year-old Yakshagana “cool” was his genuine response, that’s what she wanted to hear.

She blinked the tears away as she followed him along the rows of seating.

The women at the Kannadiga Center always served drinks, cookies and other goodies in the main lobby after a show. Families milled and chatted while clutching cups of punch, with napkins folded around powdered-sugar-covered treats.

Dash slipped a hand under the weight of coiled hair at her nape. “Did you want to stay? See people? When was the last time you caught up with Prema or Anetha? You never talk about them anymore.”

We never talk about a lot of things.

Her shoulders loosened, releasing the tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “We should go.”

“That’s not answering my question.” He edged closer.

“Did you like it?”

She hadn’t meant to ask, but he was getting good at sneaking under her defenses. In fact, she
hated
that she’d asked. He hadn’t needed her approval of the pinball place. He’d treated it matter-of-factly, that it was a place he liked to go.

This was a place
she
liked.

It shouldn’t matter what he thought.

It did.

“Thank you,” he said in Kannada.

Her breath caught in a tiny, spinning, scalding knot in her throat. As if his meaning wasn’t enough, he’d expressed it in her family’s native tongue. “Since when…?”

Red scored his blade-like cheekbones, almost a blush, but there was a harsh light in his eyes. He let go of her nape and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I pay attention, Sunny. Eight years, remember? How many nights have we spent with your sisters’ families? Hell, I have leave time in November so we can spend Deepavali at your parents’ house. I mean,
honestly
. Do you think I could stick around this long and not pick up a few words of courtesy? I haven’t always been dumb-as-shit Dash, and I don’t think I’ve always been a disappointment.”

Mouth agape, she tried to find words. None came. Compared to keeping up with her loud, occasionally incomprehensible family, deciphering hieroglyphics was an afternoon of light reading. What she’d known about him on an intellectual level hadn’t registered in her heart. He’d always been respectful and curious when her mother led him through the endless intricacies of vanquishing demons and pleasing generous goddesses. And sure enough, he never failed to request a week’s leave in the fall. Deepavali, Diwali—it had so many names, but the festival of lights remained the most important holiday in India. Liam had ensured that she never missed a single celebration.

Her family and her culture were important to her. What did it say about her that she’d held him at arm’s length about them both? What did it say that she’d been so afraid of bringing him to the Yakshagana? She’d thought the worst of him, that he’d make fun of it, barely tolerate it, misunderstand it completely.

When listening to the music, he’d looked content. Then he’d kissed her knuckles, told her all was cool, and she’d practically flinched. Waiting. Just waiting for it to go wrong.

Until that moment, she’d never seen herself as part of the problem—part of the reason their marriage made her so unhappy. The blame wasn’t one-sided, and that would take time to absorb. The anger and pain she felt were partly her own making.

Liam stood there silently angry, cheekbones still reddened, mouth pinched so hard that his lips disappeared.

He had every right to be.

“Never mind,” he said. “We should go.”

“Liam?”

She reached out, grabbed his hand. Sometimes reaching across the void between them was too scary, so she held back. This time it was too important. She couldn’t chicken out.

Half turned, with his angular face in profile, he appeared more disappointed than angry. She’d done that to him.

She held his hand more tightly, fearing he’d just leave her hanging. “Prema’s got a new boyfriend. Boy. Ha. He’s twenty years older. Her parents are furious. She’s been traveling the Strip with his high-roller friends, so we’ve sort of lost touch. And Anetha is being transferred to some office in Copenhagen. Her promotion to junior VP came with that little caveat.”

He nodded. Taking it in, but not letting her off the hook. “You didn’t tell me.”

“How pathetic do I want to sound? I love admitting that my only two close friends in Vegas have taken a hike.”

Gesturing to the lobby, he frowned. “So, what, I get to try and take their place? Hard to do when you’re ready for me to point and laugh at something you value.”

“No, it’s not like—
Liam
.”

She lifted up on her toes and kissed him. They were surrounded by kids and elders and watching eyes. Too bad. She wanted to silence him, yes, but she wanted more to silence her jumbled doubts. He was a good man. He could be distant and careless, but he’d never been disrespectful. If only a kiss could break down the wall she’d helped build. Had that been the case, they’d be happy in bed for the rest of their lives.

He accepted the kiss, perhaps for what it was. Apology? Desperation? And he was the one who slowed it down. Rough mouths softened until his lips rested flush against hers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m not going to say another word. And you’re not going to say another word. We’re too…
raw
right now.”