The Vibrant Years(77)

His smile disappeared. He looked away. Stealing away from eye contact was not something she’d ever seen him do, and it hit a defenseless spot inside her that popped up out of nowhere. He tended to look straight at you. Right in your eyes. As though he were peering into old film to find out if it was worth rescuing.

“Can we go outside for a minute? I need air.”

She followed him outside. He sucked in a gulp, chest expanding with the effort.

“Rohan?”

He groaned, the sound tearing from him. “That’s not my name.”

The eyes he turned on her were so filled with torment, she took a step back.

“My name is not Rohan. It’s Rishi, Rishi Seth.” He waited as though that should mean something to her.

“You look like you want me to google that.”

“You should.”

The feeling of doom crashed into her. She had googled him and found very little. She’d decided to trust her instincts about him. “Or you could just tell me why it’s such a big deal what your name is and why you made one up?”

“I’m a filmmaker.” He paused, not pride, exactly, but something like gravitas dripping from his words. “I’ve directed two of the biggest hits in Mumbai in the past decade. My debut film was nominated for a foreign-film Oscar.”

“Congratulations? Why did you hide that?” Did he think she was a gold digger?

He ran his hands through his hair. Both of them, as though he needed to hold his skull together. Another of his huge Bollywood gestures that she’d grown to love.

“My grandfather was one of India’s most legendary filmmakers and actors. He’s an icon of world cinema.”

“That’s wonderful, Roh . . . whatever your name is. Why are you telling me all this now?” After lying to her for weeks. “Why did you lie?”

“I’m here to . . . well . . .” Another squeeze of his head. Then he reached out and took her arm as though he needed to hold her in place for what was coming. “I’m in America because I’ve been looking for your grandmother.”

Cullie yanked her arm away. “My grandmother?” A thin beep started in her ears, a needle of rage piercing her brain.

“Yes. My grandfather’s journals . . . you remember the woman I’ve been trying to meet? The one who won’t agree to see me.”

“My Binji? You know her?” It felt like someone had shoved Cullie off a cliff. With nothing but ice to break her fall.

“Yes. Well, no. I talked to her, but she refused to meet me. And I really need to—”

“You sought me out to get to her.” The urge to push her hand to her mouth was strong, to turn her emotions into physical reactions the way she’d picked up from him. In too short a time. “The past weeks . . . running into me in the parking lot, it was all just part of a plan.” To trap her. To trap Binji.

“No! Well, yes.” He reached for her arm again, but she pulled it away. He was never touching her again. How badly she’d wanted to touch him made her sick. “I . . . I had tracked her down to this community, but they wouldn’t tell me where I could find her, and that’s when I met you. I didn’t seek you out for her. I swear. I didn’t know who you were until you told me your name.”

How could she believe anything he said? How would she believe anyone ever again? “And then you thought you could get to her through me.”

Silence.

Then, “This is incredibly important. Your grandmother is part of something huge. I just need one chance to explain it to her. I just need to meet her once.”

His words were a dagger. A cannonball. Her chest felt crushed. Thoughts spun like eddies in her brain.

“But she told you that she didn’t want to meet you. So you pretended to be my friend to get what you wanted.” All of it had been a lie.

His eyes flooded with pain again, and the stupid hope that he hadn’t been pretending tugged at her.

“You have to understand how important this is.”

Oh God, that was all he cared about. Whatever this project was. She remembered the way he had clutched the journals to his chest. “Tell me then. Tell me why it’s important.”

“I can’t. I have to tell her first.”

Right. He didn’t care that he had used her, that he’d made a fool of her. And she’d let him.

“I told you how Steve used me to take the most important thing away from me. And all the while you were doing the same thing. You know what? Shloka means nothing compared to Binji. I would destroy Shloka ten times over myself to protect her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her.”

“But hurting me was no problem.”

Shame dimmed his fiery eyes. “If that were true, I would have gone into that elevator with you. I would have let you take me to her. I didn’t. Because I couldn’t risk this.” He traced the space between them.

“You couldn’t risk this.” She was laughing now. And it hurt far more than tears ever had. How the hell had she been so stupid? Again.

“Cullie, please. These three weeks, they’ve been . . . it’s the first time I’ve been happy, really happy, since I lost my mother. Since I lost my grandfather. For the first time, I understand what . . . please, you know this doesn’t happen. You know how we feel around each other isn’t easy to find. This . . . this is what you’ve been trying to pin down with your app. But how we feel is not something an algorithm can replicate. You said yourself it’s an endless loop of trying.”