Rebel Hard (Hard Play #2)(43)

“Oh Lord, no,” Komal gushed. “If Navin earned enough to keep me at home, I’d jump at the chance to join the ladies-who-lunch set. Not sure about the kids though. Raj wants them while he’s young, and I prefer keeping my figure.”

Oh, thank God.

“I wonder if they sell this coffee by the bag?” Navin said, sliding back into his seat. “It’s pretty good.”

Raj returned a minute later, and the rest of the conversation was innocuous enough. However, by the end of it, when Nayna was alone with Raj again, she felt no compunction at all in saying, “Your sister-in-law is not a nice woman.” Bitch was the word that fit. Nayna never used that word lightly, but Komal had gone out of her way to discomfort her husband, and her digs at Nayna had been subtle but pointed.

Whatever her issue was, it didn’t excuse her behavior. The way she was going, she could stand in for the melodramatic “evil sister-in-law” on that soap opera. All she needed to do was stand around reciting her nefarious plans aloud while ominous music built to a crescendo in the background. And the irony of her name being Komal—which meant soft, delicate—was just the icing on the cake.

“No, Komal can be difficult.” Raj walked with her out of the café. “But she’s Navin’s wife, and my brother isn’t innocent in the problems between them—but those problems aren’t ours.” Wrapping one arm around her shoulder, he said, “Want to walk a little? There are a few construction projects going on around here. Competitors.”

Nayna slid her arm around his waist and decided to live in the dream. “Yes. Let’s go spy on them.”

The two of them had far too much fun over the next two hours, with Raj grumbling about how he could’ve done a better job on the various projects and Nayna playfully saying, “I know, honey” until he kissed her smiling mouth. He was scowling at her teasing, and his stubble prickled, and it was wonderful.

But she had to know if Komal had been telling the truth. The other woman had been attempting to stir trouble, no doubt about that. Which was why Nayna wasn’t about to make any assumptions until she had an answer direct from the source. “Raj, did you dream of a homemaker wife and lots of children?”

“I didn’t know you then,” he said simply. “Now when I think about my future, I see you.” A kiss that was rough and tender both, Raj’s arms coming around her. “What I wanted before no longer matters.”

But it did, Nayna thought as she drove home. Raj’s dreams mattered. Being abandoned, it had left wounds in his heart that even the love of his parents hadn’t fully healed. That cruel letter had reopened what had healed. Raj’s dream of a wife content to focus on their home, happy little children, and a husband who provided, it was both simple and profound.

Even more important—above all else, beyond the specifics—he needed absolute, unflinching commitment from the woman who was his. He needed to know she was in this all the way and for the long haul. And for him, that meant marriage. It meant tradition. It meant following the well-trodden path because that path led to community and roots and certainty.

There was nothing wrong with that.

But Nayna had no idea what she wanted from life. Him, she wanted him. But not the tradition that had begun to feel like ropes around her, cutting off her air. Not the implicit defined patterns of behavior. Not the rigidly limited choices. The very things that centered Raj were her worst nightmare.

Nayna had no right to put her dreams over his.





23





Everything’s Better with TEQUILA!!!





Nayna went in to work again on January third. She’d fibbed and told her family the firm needed her to handle an urgent client request, but she’d just been desperate to be out of the house. She’d come in to work part of yesterday evening too, her intent to keep her mind occupied with things other than Raj and the mess she was making of her life.

When she’d returned home, her sister had been sitting at the kitchen table chatting with their father, both of them laughing and smiling. Madhuri had been waxing lyrical about how her landlord had given her permission to paint a feature wall.

Nayna’s stomach tightened.

Putting down the pen, she glanced at the clock. It was seven and she should probably go home. Instead, she picked up the phone and spoke to the married couple who were her bosses. Then, laptop and purse slung over her shoulder, she went on an emergency run to a mall that was still open, grabbing a bite to eat along the way. After which she drove to ísa’s apartment building and parked in one of the external guest spots.

And just sat in her car, staring at the steering wheel.

Anger and frustration and sadness and raw need churned inside her.

Tap, tap.

Nayna jumped, looked up to see ísa’s face outside the window. Heart thudding, she scrambled out of the car. “You gave me such a fright. I was away with the fairies.”

“How long have you been waiting?” Her best friend was dressed in work clothes and carrying her satchel, so she must’ve only now returned home.

“Not long, just five minutes,” Nayna said and the two of them chatted while going up to ísa’s apartment.

Once inside, ísa made them a pot of tea as they continued to talk. Then her best friend’s face took on a stubborn cast. “Now sit,” she ordered Nayna. “Talk.”