Chapter 32 Rupi
Thirty-Two
Rupi
Seeing the purpose on Saj’s face when he walks into Simi’s apartment wrecks my hard-won peace.
He strides toward me and doesn’t stop until he’s standing too close, our bodies almost touching.
I think of myself telling Simi and Prem to get a room. Prem and Simi do not pay me back in kind. They watch us.
“We will figure this out.” It’s the first thing Saj says.
He got on the first flight back from LA as soon as Prem and Simi filled him in on the full crash and burn of my plans.
I have several missed calls and messages from him, but I haven’t read them.
I can’t be on my phone right now. It feels like too many eyes on me, and all I need right now is to be invisible. To disappear somewhere, so I can think.
Saj does not oblige my wishes with those seeing eyes.
I take a step away from him. “You take this magic wand thing too seriously.”
“Why do you sound like this?” he demands.
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve given up.”
Because I have. “It’s not so much that I’ve given up as I’ve come to my senses.”
“Can I have a moment alone with her,” he throws at Prem and Simi without looking away from me.
“You good?” Simi asks.
No. “I’m not going to run away, Simi. Stop being such a chipku.”
Prem drops a kiss on my cheek. “Listen to him. Annoying as it is, he really is as smart as he thinks he is.” With that, they leave Saj and me alone in the apartment.
I pour us chai, and we take our cups to the open window, where the sound of the freeway ebbs and flows like the ocean, and the breeze has the weight and heat of home.
“Tell me what happened in LA,” I say.
He’s about to argue, but he doesn’t because I must look really pathetic when I say, “Please, Saj. That first. Did you find out how we can help the girls in LA?”
He takes a breath and looks at me like he can’t believe that’s what I want to talk about, but he gives me what I want.
“Yes.” He fills me in. There’s an organization that provides legal counsel to women and girls who are out of legal status and have been trapped into sex work.
The USCIS issues special visas that let victims of human trafficking stay in the country and find a pathway to rehabilitation, but they have to cooperate with law enforcement to put away the perpetrators.
Which is terrifying, because the threat of violence is real.
Sometimes the known devil feels safer than the unknown angel.
“I’m working with the organization to find safe houses and ensure protection,” he says. “But earning the girls’ trust is going to be the main concern.”
“And Tina? She’ll get away with it?”
“She might have to disappear and go into witness protection. But if those women get their lives back and others don’t get trapped in it, isn’t it okay to let karma do the rest and take care of her?”
“Wow, I didn’t take you for fatalistic.”
“I’m not. We’re going to work pretty hard to bring her to fate’s door. She’s going to lose all of her assets. She’ll have to start over with nothing.” The way his eyes shine with purpose might be what I love most about him.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“You can go after them. I’ll give a statement, be a witness, do whatever you need me to. But you have to make sure the girls are safe. You have to make sure not one of them gets hurt.”
“Do you even need to ask?” He’s looking at me like my trusting him is the most important thing in the world.
“No.” I reach out because I so badly want to touch him, to cup his jaw and test if it cuts my hand.
Wipe the worry creased into his forehead.
But he’s my lawyer, and he’s already told me that means he’s off limits.
So, I take my hand back and keep it where it belongs—on my side of the line between us. “Can you do me one more favor?”
“Anything.”
“Tell Tina the Om on her butt is upside down and that it’s really bad luck.”
The smile he gives me is awfully sad and sweet, which is no longer surprising, which in itself is quite a shock.
“Done. Now can we talk about the rest of it?”
“Sure. You can also tell her that I slept with her husband in their bed. But that might be a little too mean, even for me.”
“Rupi.” I hate how he makes my name sound at once like a warning and a prayer and a storm that’s brought him to his knees.
“What?”
“This is not over.”
“I know. It’s the beginning of the rest of my life.”
He doesn’t like that. “Don’t be like this.”
I laugh. “It’s really annoying how much I get that.”
“Then stop. Because you’re out of control. You need to stop.” He looks like he’s drowning.
“Fine. I’ll stop. How would you like me to be instead? I’m so darned tired of being me. I really am. I just want someone to tell me who to be. Tell me. I’m listening, Saj. I swear.”
“Good. Then listen to this. You’re not going anywhere. So, stop acting like you are.” His eyes are whirlpools of intensity. They tug at every cell in my being. “Let’s figure out what to do next.”
Fine. “Tell me, then. What are my options?” I try to make myself sound interested.
“We can stay the course. We’ve already applied for your marriage license. I know it’s what Simi and Prem want. Your green card application is ready to go as soon as we have the license. Nothing has to change.”
“But everything has already changed.” There’s the little issue of the Guptas hating me now. “The only people who are going to get married are Prem and Simi. At this point we need to focus on making sure the Guptas don’t blame Simi for my mess.”
“They won’t,” he says with complete confidence.
“I hope you’re right. And you were right before. They are good people. You know, in Indian culture—at least, in movies and TV shows—a parent’s most sacred duty is to get their daughter married into a good family. And I’m Simi’s parent for all practical purposes. So, I did good, ha?”
He doesn’t respond. But the oddest expression falls over his face.
“On second thought. That’s a crap sacred duty, isn’t it?”
He laughs. His eyes shine with a bitterness I haven’t seen there before. “No kidding.”
I point a finger in his face. “Wow. That’s not the reaction I was expecting. Is this about the ‘hurt on both sides’ in your divorce?”
He raises that beautiful, gruff brow. “It is.”
“Do these short answers mean you don’t want me asking what happened?”
“No.” He smiles, and I want to high-five someone. Will that ever go away? “These short answers mean I don’t know why I want to answer all your questions when I’ve never wanted to answer anyone else’s.”
I press a hand to where that lands on me. Straight through the heart. “Do they teach you how to wield words like weapons in law school?”
“That’s pretty much the entire degree.”
“She hurt you.” I can’t make it a question.
He shrugs.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
“Our parents introduced us. I found out three years into the marriage that she’d been forced into meeting me because her parents didn’t like the guy she was in love with.
She never stopped being in love with him.
” He gives me the saddest smile. “I guess a robot like me seemed like a good option for someone who thought her heart was taken. She never complained about my working sixteen-hour days. I thought I’d gotten lucky and found someone who understood me.
I just wish I’d known, you know, so I could have known to try harder, known what I was working with. ”
I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my life, never felt this raging need to comfort another human being. “So, you never got to fight for her?”
“Actually, fighting for her meant not fighting for her. At least I got to do that.”
“My god, Saj. Please tell me you didn’t help her get back together with her ex when you found out.”
He shrugs. “They really were in love, and they seem very happy.” He gives me one of his state-of-the-art meaningful looks. “I’m a fan of being wanted by the person I fight for.”
Well, yet again you’re out of luck, buddy. “And I’m a fan of how good you are at helping people get out of trouble.”
“I haven’t helped you yet.”
I point a finger at him. “In that you’re wrong.”
Our gazes have done that thing again, where they’ve snapped together like magnets. Connection sizzles between us.
Suddenly his eyes fill with a strange intensity. “You know how I said I cannot have any sort of relationship with a client?”
“You said that?” I ask. “When?”
He laughs.
It’s a good thing he laid that out like that.
It’s not like the idea of marrying him hasn’t crossed my mind.
All this eyefucking can turn a girl’s head.
Marrying him would solve everything. Problem is I’m not stupid enough to believe that anymore.
Or try that particular path again. You know what I do want to try? Learning from my mistakes.
But there’s something else. Something bigger. I’ve always believed that destroying something to save yourself is just the way the world works. For the first time in my life, I have something I can’t risk destroying.
“I’m going to find you another lawyer,” he says, and I blink up at him.
“That’s not an option!” I shake my head with so much force, my hair flops over my forehead. “I need you to be my lawyer, Saj. I need you to be in my corner. That’s all I need from you.” I sound desperate, because this is nonnegotiable.
With the gentlest finger he pushes the hair off my face and finds my eyes again. “I am in your corner, Rupi. I will always be.” Then his hand curves around my jaw.
All by itself, my body rises up on its toes. His bends closer. There’s his smell again and the sweetness of his breath. Our lips are so close, it makes my knees weak.
I can’t be weak right now.
I drop down on my heels. Pull away. “Then please don’t take that from me.” My heart is racing. Sparkles tingle where his skin is touching mine. “I’ve never had this before. Someone I can trust. Someone who’s acting on my behalf.” I step back and away from his hand.
“None of that will change if you get another lawyer.” He reaches for me again.
“No!” I say with all the finality I can muster. “I have to do this my way, Saj. It’s taken me a long time to get where I am, and using our friendship to marry you would destroy that.”
“That’s not how it would be.” He takes my hand, and it’s just such a bloody bummer how that feels like being picked up and held close. “I want to be with you. You already know that.”
I laugh. I love a good irony. But does this have to hurt quite so much?
“We barely know each other. And this is not how I want to get to know you. Not with a green card–shaped gun to our heads. I can’t.
Not with you. You don’t understand what my life has been like.
What getting to have you . . . have all this has meant. Please. Don’t take that from me.”
That stops him. I’m begging, and I don’t care. “I won’t change my mind about this,” I say. “Please.” A stupid tear leaks from my eye.
He squeezes the bridge of his nose.
I’ve been with a lot of men for a great many reasons, but I’ve never seen longing coiled inside one of them like this.
He wipes my cheek and steps back. He steps back.
And he gives me what I’ve asked for. He does exactly what I need him to do, even though I can see how very much it isn’t what he wants. He listens to me.
“Fine,” he says. “I’m sorry. Tell me what you need.” He’s back to being a robot, but, honestly, it doesn’t work as well if his heart’s not in it.
“Well, first, let’s get my statements and whatever else you need from me to go after Ron’s operation. Then we’ll figure out the rest.”