Vegas to Varanasi (Fortytude Series Book 1) (20 page)

Thirty-Three

After dinner that evening, Kiran takes me to his house for the first time. I know that he lives in Desert Shores, but I didn’t know that his house actually sits on one of the man-made lakes.

“No. Way. Your house is on the water!” I say as we pull into his garage. “You never told me it’s on the water.”

“I feel like I should apologize for never having you over before now.”

I shrug. “You took me to India. I think that more than makes up for it.” We enter the house through the inner garage door. “Besides, I like having you in my bed.”

He turns around, puts his arm around my waist, and kisses me. “I like being in your bed.”

The house is very open, with high ceilings and a spiral staircase. However, it’s not ostentatiously huge, which is not what I would expect for a house in this neighborhood. From what I can tell, this place is probably a couple hundred more square feet than my own.

Dark hardwood floors and woodsy tones, accented with deep reds, make up the front portion of the house. Travertine tiles of differing dimensions, laid in no particular arrangement, cover the floors of the kitchen and family room, which look out onto the lake through large windows.

Walking to the French doors leading to the back patio, I take in the view. “Now you’ve done it. With a view like this, I won’t be leaving.”

“Hmmm. I think I’m okay with that.” Kiran heads to the kitchen and pulls down a couple of wine glasses from the cabinet. “Have a seat outside and I’ll meet you.”

I step outside and sit down on one of the patio chairs. Now August, the heat is still grueling during the day. However, this late in the evening, the temperature is perfect, and the lights reflecting on the water from the houses on the lake make for a breathtaking scene.

Bringing a bottle of wine with him, Kiran sets our glasses on the table and pours. He seems more like himself, not agitated like he was when we left the symphony, so I decide to leave it alone for now.

We spend an hour enjoying our wine and each other’s company. My muscles are slack and my limbs loose, feeling the effects of the Merlot. Kiran sets his glass on the table and leans back in his chair. “I know you’ve been waiting for me to tell you what was said with Christine tonight.”

I nod slowly. “I have, but I’m not going to needle you into talking about something you don’t want to.”

He laces his hands over his stomach and hesitates a few moments. “So, I’m standing in line at the bar, and I see her, two lines over.” He rubs his mouth, his features rigid. “I have no desire whatsoever to speak with her, but figure I’m pretty safe. She’s not going to recognize me, right?”

One, I’m surprised he wouldn’t want her to notice him; I would have thought it highly gratifying for him to have her see how great he looks. Two, did he really think the woman he was engaged to wouldn’t recognize him just because he lost weight?

“I keep my eyes at the front of the line,” he continues, “and I hear her say my name.” Although his posture is relaxed, his fingers wrap tightly around the arms of his chair. “Then she goes on about how good it is to see me...” With a sour chuckle, he shakes his head, and yet, there’s a flash of sentiment in his eyes.

He lifts his glass, taking a couple of long sips, and says nothing more. I wait, because I’m not sure if there will be more. His silence lingers.

“Well, maybe it was my imagination,” I begin, “but, she appeared genuinely sorry.”

“Yeah.” Looking out to the lake, he presses his lips together into a thin line. “I’m sure.” His arm hangs low to the ground, swirling his glass in small circles, before he finishes off his wine.

“Anyway, she congratulated me on my success, with the weight loss, of course,” he says with a touch of bitterness. “We talked a little about our work, and that was about the time I saw you.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t a very in-depth conversation.”

I rest my chin in my hand and continue to watch him, when he turns to look at me. “Come here,” he says softly and smiles. I stand and place my glass on the table, and he pulls me onto his lap.

Quietly, we gaze at one another, and he searches my eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“I wonder if you would still feel the same about me... if the weight ever returned.”

Talk about a loaded question! One I know he wouldn’t ask if he hadn’t had a few drinks. It’s a question I’ve asked myself a million times, and I would like to think there’s enough depth to me that it wouldn’t make a difference. The way I feel about him now, I can’t imagine feeling any other way, no matter how he looked.

“That all depends,” I say lightly. “Would you still possess your bedroom skills?”

He responds with a small smile. “Let’s say yes.”

“Then it’s a no brainer.” We laugh, and I play with the tips of his hair at the base of his neck. However, I realize I probably didn’t respond with the level of sincerity he was seeking, and I cup his face with my hand. “I would still feel the same about you.”

This conversation has gotten far too serious and dark, and my only desire now is to lift him out of his funk. I decide to initiate a change of topic and mood, by doing something I’ve been considering since we got here. I believe I’ve consumed a sufficient amount of liquid courage.

“Do you happen to have an iPod dock inside?” I ask.

His forehead wrinkles and he tilts his head. “Yes.”

I stand up and hold out both of my hands to him, which he takes.

“Where is it?” I ask once we’re inside. He heads to the media center in the family room and opens a cabinet, while I retrieve my iPhone from my purse. After I connect my phone to the dock, I point to a leather chair at the other side of the room. “Sit.”

He narrows his eyes, but does as I say.

I navigate to my playlists and select “Boom”, a flirtatious and sexy number. As the song begins to play, I turn up the volume, move to the music and warn, “Now remember, I’m not a professional.”

He nods, offering an amused grin.

The only way I’m going to get through this striptease is if I do it playfully. I do
not
do Marilyn Monroe sexy!

Slowly lifting my hair off my shoulders, I swing my hips as I sing with the song. I can actually sing pretty decent when I have the record to accompany me. However, my acapella voice is definitely lacking.

Channeling my inner Kim Basinger a la
Nine and a Half Weeks
, I slink my way closer to him, and seductively roll my shoulders as I unbutton my blouse. I cannot believe I’m really doing this, but watching his bashful adoration, it is so worth it!

I shimmy out of my skirt, and he places his hands on my hips as I move before him in my bra and panties. I am so glad I chose to wear my cute Victoria’s Secret ensemble, instead of my usual boring nude bra and random pair of underwear.

“He make my heart go...” I pat my hand to my chest.
“Boom, boom
... He make my breath go...”

Kiran tries to pull me in, but I push away from him and wag my finger, shamelessly teasing him. He lowers his head and chuckles, then looks up at me, eyes sparkling.

I continue singing and dancing, in no way taking myself seriously, and slowly rock my moneymaker with every
boom, boom
. By this time, I’m trying not to laugh. I must look totally ridiculous. He leans his elbow on the chair, covers his eyes, then impishly peeks through his fingers at me and grins.
My God, he’s killing me!

Circling him, I run my hand across his shoulders, up his neck, and tousle his hair. Coming around the other side, I nip at his earlobe, making him wriggle in his seat. When the song comes to an end, I’m standing between his legs, directly in front of him, and I wish I could forever capture the look of appreciation on his face.

“That was the most adorable yet sexy thing I have ever seen,” he says, his voice husky. Then he kisses my stomach.

I squirm as his lips touch my skin. “I’m not sure how sexy it was, but I’ll settle for adorable.” It surprises me how willing I am to crawl out of my comfort zone, if I think it might bring him joy. “That smile is all I was shooting for,” I say, chucking him under the chin.

He looks up at me, his eyes mischievous. “Are you sure that was all you were shooting for?” He presses his lips to my body once more, and slowly peels off the rest of my clothing. With the lights on, in front of the large, uncovered windows looking out to the lake, we make love in his chair. Normally, I would be completely neurotic about the idea that someone outside can possibly see us.

But not tonight.

Thirty-Four

A month passes, and Julia and I meet for Starbucks on a Monday evening.

“Hey, it’s my turn to treat,” she says as I start to pay.

“Not if I have a gift card.”

The place is busy tonight, so our usual spot in the corner with the cushy chairs is taken, forcing us to sit on the barstools at the long table in the center of the shop.

“How’s married life been treating Kat?” I ask.

“It’s going good, I guess.” She swipes some crumbs off the table. “They’re both working their tails off. Kat trying to get the salon off the ground, and Jacob working his day job
and
finishing up grad school.”

“That’s why God gave us more energy when we’re young. So we can accomplish all that stuff.” The barista calls out our order, and I go get our drinks.

“How about you?” Julia asks when I return to the table. “Any more drama with David? What’s going on with him?”

“I think he might be doing better.” I pull the lid off my cup and pour a packet of sugar into my latte. “A few days after I’d sent him those contact numbers, he called to tell me he’d made an appointment to start seeing a therapist.”

“That’s great!” Julia’s eyes widen.

“He also started dating someone recently.”

“Really?” Her voice is full of intrigue. “Did he tell you this?”

Our usual chairs open up. Julia and I look at each other, grab our drinks, and hurry over before someone takes them.

“At first, Carly told me,” I answer.

“Carly’s still pretty tight with him then, huh?” She takes a sip of her coffee and some of it drizzles onto her blouse. “Ah, damn it!”

“Here.” I hand her one of my napkins. “They talk about once a week, and they met for lunch once. She and David have always gotten along.”

Julia blots at the stain on her shirt. “So, he’s not said anything to you about it? About this woman he’s dating?”

“After he’d told Carly, he did. I’m not sure if he was afraid to say something to me about it, given how they met.”

Julia looks up at me and raises an eyebrow.

“The woman he’s seeing is a therapist.”

Dropping the napkin on the table, she rolls her eyes. “Not
his
therapist, is she?”

Her reaction is the same one I had when I learned that bit of information.

“Thankfully, no. Apparently, she and his therapist work out of the same office. They started talking while he was waiting for one of his sessions, and she discovered he wrote
December Sky
, which she read and loved.”

I still find it strange that a therapist would choose to date a patient in her practice, even if it wasn’t her own. It doesn’t seem like the best idea to me, but whatever. Julia must be thinking the same, because she just shakes her head.

“I know. It’s kinda weird.” I shrug. “But... David is very charming and likable when he wants to be. I can understand it a little. I mean, imagine if you read some book that you thought was amazing, and you had the opportunity to hang out with the author. I can see how a crush could develop.”

“Oh, I can definitely see it. It doesn’t seem very professional, though.”

Tilting my head, I scrunch my mouth. “Um, do you not remember how David and I started dating? Believe me, he can be a persistent little shit.”

Julia laughs. “That’s right. I’d forgotten. But I’ve always known you were unprofessional.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Leaning back in her chair, Julia folds her arms and smiles. “Things still good with Kiran?”

I lower my eyes and purse my lips. “Yep.”

She squints at me. “Why did that not seem like a very convincing
yep?
”

“No, it’s good. It’s just...” I look up and sigh. “That night he ran into Christine. I think it really did a number on him. He seems different since then.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just in my head.” I pull on a lock of my hair, again thinking back to the question he asked me that night at his house. “Kiran asked me something that has really been bothering me.”

“What?”

“He wanted to know if I would feel the same way about him if he ever got heavy again.”

Julia frowns, and I think maybe she’s wondering if I gave him the wrong answer. Because, of course, there should only be one correct answer to such a question.

“I told him yes!”

Her eyebrows are still drawn together as she waits for me to continue.

“But... what if I’m just lying to myself?”

She offers a sympathetic smile. “Why would you think that?”

“Because! What if I fell in love with his looks first? I mean,
now
I love him for how wonderful he is.”

“Of
course
you fell in love with his looks first. Lord, who wouldn’t?”

Her response makes me smile, despite myself.

“So, what if you did?” she continues. “Lots of people are attracted to someone first, then fall in love with them second. If he’d turned out to be an ass, you wouldn’t have given him the time of day.”

I rub my shoulder. “This is different, though. This isn’t about whether or not I would have dated him if he turned out to be an ass. This is about whether I would still love him if he no longer looked like he does.”

“I think you’re overanalyzing.” Julia picks up her cup and takes a sip. “None of us will look the same forever. When you fall in love with someone, the assumption is that we’re all going to get old, flabby, and wrinkly, and we don’t ask ourselves if we’re still gonna love the person, right?”

Looking past her, I gaze out the window. “This is why it’s just easier to be involved with someone normal looking.”

“Would you stop it?” The annoyance in her voice draws my attention back to her. “You are the same person, Anna. Geez, just because you’re seeing Kiran, all of a sudden, you’re questioning everything you are.”

“No!” I argue like a child.

Julia leans forward on the table. “Yes!”

I cross my arms and look out the window again.

“Listen. I seriously doubt Kiran will ever gain back all that weight.” Julia laces her hands together in front of her. “Let’s say he did. Maybe you
would
feel a little differently. You’re human! But do you really think you’d walk away because of it?”

“No! But...”

Julia responds with a “talk to the hand” gesture. “No buts. There’s nothing left to say.”

I give her a smirk.

“Honestly,” she says, her tone softening. “I think maybe you’re inventing a problem where there is none.”

Maybe Julia’s right. It’s just that every relationship I’ve had thus far wound up on the skids. It’s hard not to anticipate the same with Kiran.