Chapter 5 #2
For a second, I almost stop there. That would be the easy version. The happy ending, but something about the quiet in the room and him sitting there, steady and focused on my story, keeps me going.
“I just didn’t expect what came with it.”
His expression changes slightly. “Which was?”
“The design world is filled with drama and politics that I never imagined. After college, I got a job at a respected design house. I was to intern under the top designer. At first, everything was good. I thought I was on top of the world, living my dream.”
Walker sits up straighter and his jaw tenses. “Did he touch you?”
It takes a few moments to realize what he’s asking. “No. Nothing like that. He passed off my designs as his.”
His eyebrows almost touch his hairline. “He took credit for something you created?”
“Yes. He did. I can’t even tell you how much he made off of my designs. I would have been set for life. But it wasn’t about the money. At least not for me.”
“You let him get away with it?”
It’s hard to explain to someone not in the industry why I kept silent. My best friend Poppy didn’t get it either.
“It doesn’t always feel like a choice when you’re trying to survive in an industry like that. Honestly, I was already disillusioned with the entire business. The fun and creative satisfaction I once felt no longer existed.”
“So you left New York.”
“Yes. I walked away from everything I’d worked for because I wasn’t going to keep building someone else’s name.”
“And you came here.”
“Poppy offered me the space next door to her bookstore and a chance to start over on my own terms.”
“I’m glad you did.”
I smile up at him. “Me too.”
Silence settles between us again, but it doesn’t feel heavy or awkward. A yawn takes me by surprise, and we both chuckle. I snuggle down deeper in the covers. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this comfortable with a man. A hot man at that.
After a moment, he says, “Why not go along with it?”
I frown. “With what?”
“The engagement.”
That jerks me out of whatever peaceful place I’d drifted into. I give him a hard onceover. Is he serious? He is, and that’s more confounding than ever. “You’re suggesting we pretend to be engaged. To each other.”
There’s that grin again. “That’s usually the way it works. All I’m saying is that it might be easier than trying to undo it.”
Easier. Nothing about this feels easy. I open my mouth to shut it down, to tell him how ridiculous that idea is, when my phone rings. I don’t need to see the screen to know who’s calling in the middle of the night. In India, it’s early afternoon. I’ve been expecting this call.
I close my eyes for half a second, bracing myself before answering. “Hello?”
“Naudi.”
The sound of her voice washes over me, transporting me back to that scared young woman on the worst day of her life. My grip tightens on the phone. I’m not that woman anymore. “Ma.”
There’s a pause, the kind that carries a hundred unspoken things.
“My daughter. My prayers have been answered. I cannot tell you how happy your engagement has made your father and me. I have prayed every day for your happiness and for the man you were meant to be with to come into your life.”
I need to set her straight. To explain the misunderstanding. But my gaze lifts slowly, landing on Walker. He watches me with that steady, quiet focus that is starting to make me feel seen in ways I like. He can tell who I’m talking to, and he’s giving me his silent support.
“Your father, while he is disappointed you did not marry the man of his choice, is proud of you for standing up for what you believe in. He will tell you how proud of you he is.”
In all my years of being alone, I’ve never imagined a world where I would once again speak to my mother. And now to hear that my father is proud of me… of my independence… of my marriage? It hits too many places to even start to dissect.
The one that hurts is that his focus is once again on my marital status. I have to be married to make him proud. That stings. I must do the right thing and explain.
“Ma, it’s not?—”
“We are coming to America! Your father has already purchased the tickets.”
“What? When?”
“We will be there next week. I cannot wait to hold my oldest daughter in my arms once again.”
“Ma…”
“We want to meet him. He will need to speak with your father, but I am sure some things can be overlooked. And, of course, we must help you prepare.”
Prepare. My stomach drops. “You don’t have to do that,” I protest. “There’s no need to?—”
“We want to,” she interrupts none too gently. “Your father has already made the arrangements.”
Of course he has.
“And, of course, we will stay with you. I’ve missed you, my daughter. It’s been too long.”
I can’t get past how my sins have been erased with a marriage proposal. They are only forgiving me because I’m getting married. Not because they miss me. Not because they want to see me or apologize for what they did ten years ago. But because of this. A fake engagement.
“You made your sister very happy. Your father has already signed the marriage contract with the man she has chosen. Do not worry. She will not marry until next year. This is so exciting! Two marriages in our family. I must go, dear. I have so much to do. I will let you know when we are to arrive, and you can pick us up from the airport.”
“Okay.”
“And, Naudi, I am…happy for you.” Her voice breaks with emotion and that twists something deep in my chest in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“Okay,” I repeat stupidly.
“Goodnight, beta.”
“Goodnight, Ma.” I end the call slowly, lowering the phone into my lap. For a moment, I don’t move. Don’t think. Don’t breathe. I’m stunned from the conversation I’ve just had. They are coming. Here. They are staying with me.
I let out a breath and sag against the pillows, staring at the ceiling.
Ten years. Ten years of being alone, building a life that is mine.
Ten years of proving I don’t need the one my father planned for me.
And now he’s walking right back into it.
Into my home. My life. With expectations already set.
It also kinda sucks that my own mother didn’t ask how I was after being run over by a truck. I know my sister. When she called, she would have given all the details. I try not to let that hurt, but it does.
I turn my head and look at Walker. He didn’t move the whole time I was on the phone. “My parents are coming,” I announce.
“I figured.”
“They will be here next week.”
He nods once.
“They will be staying with me.”
That gets a reaction. His eyes roam around the room for a second, taking in the space, measuring it. He evidently comes to the same conclusion I have.
“Yeah, it’s not going to happen.” I rub my aching forehead.
“They can stay at the farm. We have plenty of bedrooms. In fact, why don’t you all stay there? It will give you more time with them while they’re here.”
“No. You have done so much already. I’ll figure something out. I mean, I do know someone with an air mattress.”
“Well, about that. It sprung a leak and I’m now sleeping on the floor.”
I push myself up, ignoring my ribs. “Oh no! I am so sorry!”
He shrugs. I’m learning it’s a favorite response. “No worries. We can go ahead and move to the farm tomorrow so you can get settled before they arrive.”
How is this my life? “No. This is just too much. All of it is too much. I want to help my sister but not at your expense. This isn’t your problem. I’ll call my mother back and tell her the truth.”
“What difference is it going to make if we let them believe we’re engaged? I mean, how long do you think they will stay? A week? Maybe two? Then they leave and your sister can get married, and we won’t. Sounds simple to me.”
He has no idea what he’s getting into. I’m thirty years old and my father is still directing my life. “If we do this,” I say slowly, “it’s not to make my father happy. It’s for my sister.”
“Okay.”
“It’s because I choose to do this.”
“Alright.”
“And we set the rules.”
“That makes sense.”
I study him for a long moment. Will my parents even believe that I could attract a man as handsome and nice as Walker? Do I believe it? Not for a second.
“Fine. We pretend.”
He doesn’t smile. His only response is a single nod and a simple, “Alright.”
And, somehow, that makes our engagement real. More real than I’m ready for.