Chapter 19
19
“Where’s your car?” I ask. I should have thought about that earlier. I hadn’t seen a car in the driveway when I’d gotten here.
“I have a new hire,” Nikhil says, his fingers lightly squeezing the back of my hand.
It’s the most casual of touches. Nothing, really, compared to all that we’ve done, but it sets my nerves on fire.
“A new hire?” I repeat.
“Yeah.” Nikhil smiles. “Someone really wise pointed out I have a problem accepting help. I’d never put that together, but I mentioned it to Elizabeth, and she almost laughed. She reminded me that she’d offered to help with the grant stuff before, and that she’d sent me résumés of volunteers she knew who were looking for part-time paid work, but I’d always shrugged her off. When I decided to keep the place, I realized just how much help I needed, so Ihired one of the people Elizabeth mentioned. I don’t have the funds for a whole crew, but something is better than nothing. Anyway, he took my car to pick up some more supplies, but he’ll be back soon.”
I nod, my throat growing tight. “I’m so happy you did that.”
A pleased flush spreads across his cheeks, and I want to say more. I want to tell him how proud I am of him for not giving up on the inn, for accepting help, for working so hard to make it all come true. Even if I’d never come back, he would have been right here, steadily working toward his goals.
I know that’s a good thing, but I can’t help but feel a little conflicted. In all my imaginings of this moment, I had a role to play. I was part of all of this. I was part of helping Nikhil get the inn back. But he doesn’t need me for that, and now, I don’t know where I fit into any of this. If I fit in.
Anxiety thrums through my veins, increasing my heartbeat.
Fortunately, Nikhil doesn’t seem to notice my inner turmoil. He leads us out onto the dock, and we take a seat at the end of it, our legs dangling off the edge, both of us facing the water, my hand still tucked into his.
“I spent years thinking about this,” Nikhil says, breaking the silence between us. “Of you coming back here one day. I’d imagined that when you did come back, I’d have something, some successful business of some kind. I thought if I became someone, maybe I could find you. Maybe I’d go back to D.C. and actually have something to offer you. But…” He stops, turning to look back at the house over his shoulder, a tinge of embarrassment on his face.
I lift a hand, cupping his cheek, forcing his gaze back to me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you had to prove something like that, because you didn’t, Nikhil. You never needed to become someone. I didn’t need you to be anyone else back then, and I hate that I made you feel like I did.” I take a deep breath. “Hiding you from my family, from everyone, it had so much more to do with me than it did with you.”
His body goes stiff beside me, but I continue.
“Really. It did. I cared too much about what my parents would think. I cared too much about disappointing them, about being judged by them, and all their friends. The way they’d all judged my sister. I worried that they wouldn’t love me anymore. I worried they’d think I was a failure. That I was a failure. Not you, Nikhil. It was never about you. I…I felt so ashamed. Every day. You were working so hard, working extra hours, and taking care of everything, and I couldn’t contribute. I was helpless. I wasn’t supposed to mess up like that. I wasn’t supposed to fail. I wasn’t supposed to be that person. I didn’t know what to do.”
He watches me for a moment, and his expression softens, compassion and understanding clear in his gaze.
“Meena,” he says softly. “No one expects you to be perfect. I don’t. You’re allowed to mess up. You’re allowed to be a full human person. You’re allowed to fail. And none of that”—his eyes flare, bright and intense—“none of that would ever make me stop loving you. Ever.
“And you weren’t the only one who didn’t know what they were doing. I didn’t know what I was doing. I…I knew you were struggling and I didn’t know how to reach you. How to help. You were going through so much with the bar and your family, and I wanted to just be…fun. The easy part of your life. I didn’t want to come home and dump all my stuff on you. All the stress I had with work and the long hours and how I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it anymore. I didn’t want to tell you any of that and make you feel worse. I didn’t want to tell you that I had other dreams and thought about doing something else one day. I didn’t want to give you a reason to leave me. I thought you had enough reasons already. But…hiding everything I was going through, hiding how I felt about things, it wasn’t fair to you.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “I didn’t understand why you were shutting me out,” I finally say.
Pain flashes through his eyes. “I didn’t know I was. I didn’t know I was making you feel that way.”
“I mean, I can understand why you kept those things to yourself. I didn’t then, but now I understand how you felt. It’s just…I wanted you to confide in me. I wanted to share the load where I could. I wanted to help.”
He pushes a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “I wanted that too. I wanted to do that for you too.”
I lick my lips, my mouth feeling dry. “And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t share those things with me. If I made you feel like my dreams…like the things I wanted were more important. If you felt like I…steamrolled over you and—”
He winces. “I said that, didn’t I? Or something like that.”
I nod.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you were leaving me behind. I was hurt and angry and once you passed and had what you needed, I felt like you could leave and go to D.C., that you didn’t need me anymore and—”
“I needed you, Nikhil. I’ve always needed you.” I swallow, looking down at the dock. I rub my fingers against the grain of the wood. “And you were right. At least partially. I know I was so laser-focused on the things I wanted back then, but the things you wanted matter too. But I’m so happy you’re working toward what you want now. That you decided to keep this place.” I pause. “Though you seemed so sure about selling it before. I don’t…What made you change your mind?”
He looks back at the house for a moment, then leans toward me, tilting my chin up until our eyes meet.
His are misty and shining, the flecks of gold there burning bright. “I figured nothing’s ever too far gone,” he says softly. “That some things are worth rebuilding. Even if it means rebuilding them from the ground up.”
My heart squeezes, and then he brushes his lips against mine.
This kiss contains everything we’ve said to each other and everything we haven’t. Apologies from him to me. From me to him. And at some point, seconds or minutes later, there’s forgiveness too. Traveling both ways. Settling deep inside of us. Healing old wounds. Clearing out leftover debris. Creating space to build something new.
My arms fly around his neck, and something rough rubs against my skin. A faint memory strikes me, of the last time we kissed. I’d thought I’d felt something around his neck before. Something rough and abrasive. A chain or necklace of some kind.
I run my fingers over it, but Nikhil stops me, his hand closing around mine.
“What is this?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond. Not with words. He just lifts my hand, running it down the line of the chain, until we reach the front. My fingers coast over something hard and round, and I pull his necklace out from under his shirt.
Two small gold loops hang like pendants on his chain, and all the air leaves my lungs.
It’s his ring. And mine.
“You kept them?” I ask softly.
“I wear them,” he says. A small, almost sheepish smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “I just never…I couldn’t…Even when I stopped wearing it on my hand it never felt right not to have it. I couldn’t seem to take it off.”
My lips return to his, closing the gap between us, and he returns my kiss with equal fervor.
“I wish I’d kept mine,” I tell him. “I wish I’d taken it with me.”
“It’s yours,” he says. “I’ve just been holding on to it. Keeping it safe. But it’s always been yours. I’ve always been yours.”
Our mouths meet again, and we stay that way for a long moment, until Nikhil breaks away.
“So,” he says, a moment later, slightly out of breath. “We’re still married.”
“Yeah,” I say, in a bit of a daze, still running my fingers over the rings. Still reeling. Still processing everything that’s happened.
“What does that mean for you?” Shadows cross his face. “With the race and with…your ex ?” He says the word tentatively, hopefully, and I immediately reassure him.
“Yes. That’s…I ended things with Shake. And the race…Well.” I lift a shoulder. “I’m not running for office anymore either.”
Nikhil’s frame relaxes a fraction, then grows tense again. “What? Yes, you are. Why would that change anything? Why wouldn’t you—”
I sigh. “It was kind of a package deal. Me and him. Running together. Working with the advisory group. They were his contacts, so maybe they’ll keep working with Shake, but I don’t think they’d want to work with just me.”
Nikhil raises his eyebrows. “So, that’s it? You’re going to go back to your old job?”
“No. I’m going to move here. To be with you.”
His entire being brightens with joy, radiating pure sunshine. I bask in it for a moment, allowing it to scatter some of my lingering unease. I hadn’t fully thought through what might happen after I bought the inn back. I hadn’t allowed myself to hope that Nikhil and I might be able to mend things. But in this moment, I’m sure. I don’t want to go back to the job I had before. It was once everything I wanted, but I’ve done it for years now, and I don’t want to just advocate for my clients’ causes anymore. I want to do more.
Nikhil watches me for a while, and slowly his countenance dims. “But what about…Is there a new job you’re excited about? Something else you’d want to work on here?”
I falter. “I’ll…I’ll help you with the inn. I’ll help in some way. Any way. With the grants, like I said before. And I could…I don’t know. Do something.”
His eyes grow tender, but he slowly shakes his head. “No.” His lips curve into a soft smile. “You’re going to run for Congress.”
“No,” I say, even though his words make something leap within me. Make something come back to life. “No, this isn’t about me. This is about you. I’ve let my dreams lead the way this whole time, and I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to—”
“This isn’t about me, Meena. This is about us . I love your dreams. I’ve always loved them. And I love them even more now that I understand them better. I love your mind and your heart and your strong will. I love your desire to help people and make a difference. I was never upset about you chasing your dreams. I supported your move to D.C. I wanted you to have everything you always wanted. I just worried I was holding you back.”
“You weren’t. You never could. And I don’t need to do this, Nikhil. I don’t have to—”
“You want to run,” he says. “So, you’re going to run. And I’m going to help you.”
I open my mouth, about to interject, but he keeps going.
“We’ll find out more about the Texas seat. Or any other race you’re interested in. We’ll contact other groups. I’m sure you have connections to some, and if you don’t, we’ll find others. We’ll talk to Elizabeth, and if she’s planning a run of her own, we can always talk to Alan.” He playfully raises an eyebrow. “Because he definitely won’t be able to resist spilling the beans.”
I laugh without meaning to, and he laughs in return.
“I don’t know how we’ll do it, Meena,” he says, a moment later, his hand returning to clasp mine. “And honestly, I know you don’t need my help. You could absolutely do this on your own if you wanted to, but I want to do this with you. I want to be there. I want to be by your side as you figure it out.”
Love swells through my chest, so sudden and forceful I almost feel like I might burst. But reality cuts through like it always does.
“If I made it,” I say, “if by some miracle I win—this seat, or any other congressional seat—I’d have to be in D.C. part of the time. I’d have to go back and forth. And you have the inn here—”
“Maybe I open another inn up there once we get this one off theground. Maybe I hire staff to run this place while I’m away and travel back and forth with you. Maybe we even end up moving there one day.”
“But this is your home, ” I say. “I understand how important that is to you, why it would be hard for you to leave it and—”
“ You’re my home, Meena. Out of all the places I’ve lived, I’ve only ever felt at home with you.” His voice is fervent, the truth of his words blazing in his eyes. “I’ve been living without that feeling for years now and I’m not going to live that way a day longer. I don’t know exactly how we’ll do it, but we’ll find a way to make it work. Together.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe him so badly, but I can’t stop the worry climbing up my throat.
“But that’s what I thought back then. I thought we’d be able to make things work, but we couldn’t. What if we…what if we want to, but we can’t? What if we try and we just mess it all up?”
“Then, we mess up,” he says gently. “And we try again. We’re not the same people we were six, seven years ago, Meena. We’ve changed. We’re different. We’ve grown and we’ll keep growing. We’ll keep doing better. We’ll grow together.”
He smiles, wide and full and beaming, and I feel it. Warmth and comfort and this overwhelming sense of rightness. Mine . This wonderful gift of a man is mine.
“I love you,” I say, the words flying out of my mouth.
His lips return to mine, his kiss firm and quick and fierce. “I love you so much,” he whispers.
A drop of water lands on my shoulder. I ignore it, assuming one of us has just started crying again, but then another lands on my cheek. And another on the top of my hand.
I tilt my head up. “Is that—”
Nikhil lifts his palm toward the sky. “It’s just a drizzle,” he says. “Just a—” A loud boom of thunder cuts him off.
I lean back from Nikhil, my eyes wildly scanning our surroundings.
“We need to get inside,” I say, standing up.
“We can’t,” he responds, coming to his feet. “We haven’t gotten that far in our repairs yet. We’ll have to wait for the car to come back.” He clasps my upper arms, running his hands up and down them. “But it’ll be fine, Meena. It’s just a normal thunderstorm. We’ll be okay out here. Honestly, it’s not even that bad.”
In that moment, the heavens open up. The rain grows heavier, changing from a drizzle to sheets in a minute.
Nikhil’s lips part in shock, and his bewildered expression draws a loud laugh out of me.
I throw a hand over my head, doing my best to shield my eyes from the onslaught of rain.
“You were saying?” I tease. And Nikhil grins.
“Are you laughing at me, Mrs. Chopra-Wright?”
“Oh, I absolutely am, Mr. Nader.” I pause. “Mr. Chopra-Wright-Nader? Mr. Nader-Chopra-Wright?” We’d never discussed whether we’d change our names when we were married. We’d both kept our names as they were.
A flash of lightning splits the sky, and Nikhil pulls me closer.
“Don’t tell me we’re going to be a triple-hyphenate-surname family. Our poor kids. Just think how badly they’ll get teased at school.” Nikhil’s smile grows, the corners of his eyes creasing.
We’re both drenched. Our clothes plastered against our bodies. And the rain is pelting, stinging a bit when it hits my skin, but I can barely feel it.
I imagine us back here in five years, ten. The property filled with friends and guests and little ones with Nikhil’s gold-brown eyes, and my unruly hair.
A family . Nikhil and I are going to be a family.
“Our kids are going to get teased either way,” I say, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. “With me as their mother, they’ll probably turn out to be huge nerds.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But that just means they’re going to be bright and sharp and hardworking and intelligent. Like you.”
The wind picks up, howling at both of us, but I raise my voice to speak over it. “And kind and thoughtful and patient,” I say. “Loving and brilliant and wonderful. Like you.”
He cups my face in his hands and we crash together, our mouths colliding with sudden force. I reach for him, grasping his soaked collar in my hand, anchoring myself and changing the angle of our kiss. He responds in kind, letting out a rough sound of approval.
A shiver travels down my spine.
“Are you cold?” he murmurs against my lips. And I laugh, shaking my head.
I skim my mouth along his jaw, planting kisses toward his ear. “I’m burning up,” I whisper, and now it’s his turn to shiver.
A bright light flashes, illuminating the fire in Nikhil’s eyes, but it’s not lightning this time. Relief sets in when I see the source: twin beams of a pair of headlights.
The approaching car lets out a quick honk, and I smile.
“Guess your assistant is back,” I say, giving Nikhil a quick peck, then turning back to the house.
But Nikhil stops me, his fingers catching mine. “He can wait for a bit,” he says, drawing me toward him. “We’ll be okay out here a little longer.” He smiles as he lowers his head. “After all, you and I have made it through worse storms than this.”
I relax into his embrace, quickly losing myself again in the feel of him. In the way I feel when I’m with him. The rain, the lightning, the car honking, the wind whipping around us—all of it fades away.
Because Nikhil is right. We have.