Chapter 19
What about Bali?
I frown at my phone. Sure, I type back. Maybe.
None of Natalie’s proposed destinations for next season have moved me, and I know we’re running out of time. The network will want a decision soon.
Deep down, I know the destinations themselves are not the only problem.
I’m just…not excited about this next season.
We have a good cast. There are a few people that I think will be well suited for each other.
There’s potential for not only drama, but also genuine love, and I miss the way that used to make me feel.
I miss that strange thrill I always had before filming, my brain buzzing with all the possibilities.
But now…it just feels stale. No matter where we go, or what fresh twists we try to add, it’s all starting to feel the same.
I’m desperate for something new.
Could we chat soon? I tell her. About format?
Natalie’s response is immediate. Sure, but network will say no.
Right. I should have expected that.
I sit on the edge of my bed, and the faintest thought skitters across my mind. My fingers fly across the phone’s touch-screen keyboard before I can think better of it.
What if we went somewhere else?
Okay. Fiji?
No. Sorry, I didn’t mean a different location. Different network.
A bubble pops up on my phone. And then it disappears.
A short pause, and then it happens again. The bubble makes a fleeting appearance before vanishing.
I lie down, my back hitting the comforter.
I should tell her I’m kidding. It took years for Natalie to work her way up to showrunner. There’s no way she’d want to abandon ship. There’s no way I should want to do that. We’ve been here so long, have inched our way up the ladder. To leave once we’re finally where we want to be—
What did you have in mind?
I sit back up, alert, excitement thrumming through me.
Without the restrictions we have, without the limits they’ve placed on us, if I could imagine any structure, any format, what would I want to do?
My mind buzzes, one idea flowing after the other.
I open my notes app and type, a shadowy sketch of a show starting to come together.
Still working on it, but can I send you something in a couple days? I text back.
Natalie hearts the message. Yes. Can’t wait.
—
I’m still floating on a high when I come down for breakfast.
Jacob’s seated at a table, opposite my father, and he spots me first. He’s already smiling, mid-conversation, but when his eyes catch mine, that smile grows. Infinitesimally, but I notice it, the slightest lift at the corner of his mouth.
I grin back at him, and he must notice it, the way I’m practically beaming, because he tilts his head.
What? he mouths at me across the room.
I shake my head. Later, I mouth back at him.
His expression shifts, a bit bemused, but before he can say anything else, my father turns in his seat.
“Neelu!” he exclaims, and it takes me aback. His eyes are bright. Excited. He’s taken a shower since the last time I saw him, and his hair is neatly combed from one side of his head to the other. I haven’t seen him this way, this happy, since before his would-be wedding.
“Come,” he says. “Sit.”
So I make my way over there. Jacob jumps up when I approach, pulling out the seat beside him.
“I’ve got it,” I tell him, sliding in. “Thank you.” Under the table, I bump my foot against his and send him a quick look.
I don’t want my father to notice that there’s anything different between us. Things are complicated enough as they are.
Jacob must understand the message, because he averts his gaze, sitting up straighter in his chair.
“You’ve both already eaten?” I ask my father, noticing their empty plates.
My father nods. “We’re ready to get an early start. As soon as you’re done, I mean. No rush.” But his body betrays him. He’s practically bouncing out of his chair.
I glance over at Jacob. “I take it the car’s ready?”
“Yes,” my father answers.
“It will be,” Jacob says. “Parts are in, but Callum said the repairs will take about an hour.”
“That’s not too bad,” I say.
“No, not bad at all.” My father hums, taking a sip from his cup of tea, and Jacob and I exchange an amused glance.
“Callum bumped us up to the top of his list,” Jacob says. “Apparently Iain called him this morning and demanded it.”
“That was nice of him.” I scan the room but don’t see Iain or Elsie anywhere. “Are they here?”
“They were, but I told them to go back to bed.” Jacob lifts a shoulder. “We’re the only guests here, and they had such a late night yesterday. I figured we can manage breakfast ourselves.” He pauses. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”
My chest warms.
It’s rare to find someone like this, someone who extends care in this way, not just to the people in his life but to people he’s only just met. I understand why my father and Maggie consider him family, why they keep him so close.
Why I want to do the same.
“Yes,” I say softly. “Of course.”
I excuse myself and enter the kitchen to make some toast with butter and jam. I’ve just pulled the bread out of the toaster and am slathering some red jam on top when a pair of hands comes around my waist.
I jump, turning over my shoulder so quickly I almost slam my forehead into Jacob’s chin.
He laughs, a warm puff of breath against my hair. “Close call,” he says.
“What are you—”
He presses a kiss to the side of my neck.
“My dad is right outside!”
“Yes,” he says. “But no one’s in here.” His open mouth trails up to my ear, and I shiver, leaning back against him.
I don’t know what this means, this new, playful behavior from him. Has he thought about what I asked? Is he giving in to it?
I’m desperate to know, but I don’t want to ask him, too scared that the answer won’t be what I want. That whatever this is will end.
Light, I remind myself. Fun. That’s all we can do. I don’t need to make any of this more complicated than that.
I twist slightly so I can meet his mouth, pulling him into a kiss. Soft and sweet, his lips tasting like tea.
“Good morning,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine, and I laugh.
“I already saw you this morning. Remember?”
His eyes flare, and a fire starts deep in my belly. “Trust me,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I wouldn’t forget that.”
He kisses me again with greater intensity, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I’m lost in it, moving against him, until a loud clatter echoes through the air. My eyes fly back open. I’ve dropped the butter knife, and it’s hit my plate, small flecks of red jam splattering on the counter.
Jacob releases me, then leans back into my space for a quick kiss. “I’ll get a towel,” he says.
He finds one in no time, dampening it under the faucet, then wiping down the area in front of me.
“So, Dad seems happier today,” I say, picking my plate up out of the way. “Did he talk to Maggie? Does she know we’re coming?”
“Yeah,” Jacob says. “Well, I called and spoke to Maggie. Ajit was there, though.” He pauses. “He seems excited to see Maggie, and I understand why. But Maggie sounded—” He looks over at me. “I don’t think your dad picked up on it, but Maggie sounded a little off.”
An uneasy sensation builds in my stomach.
“I suppose we knew that, though,” I say. “That she’s been feeling off.”
“Yeah, I just hoped that with time, that would pass. That things would go back to the way they were, but I don’t know.” His brows knit. “I’m not exactly sure what she’s going to say when we see her.”
He moves the dishcloth back and forth across the same spot, over and over, and I place a hand on top of his, stopping him.
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” I say. “Maybe not at first, but…it’ll all be okay. Eventually.”
Jacob doesn’t say anything. He just stays still, his forehead creased, concern written across his face.
“What worries you the most?” I ask quietly, because I’m worried too. About my father and how he will cope if Maggie ends up breaking his heart. About what all of it might mean for his health. About whether this means he’ll be completely alone after I leave.
And even though I barely know her, I’m also worried about Maggie. About how she’s feeling. About anything I said that might have contributed to this.
And Jacob. I’m worried about him too.
“Jacob?” I say, prompting him, because he’s still not looking at me, his eyes glued to our joined hands resting on top of the dish towel.
He swallows. “It’s selfish,” he says.
I frown. “There’s no way that’s true. You might be the least self-centered person I know.”
He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “No. This…it really is selfish.”
“Tell me.” I pull his hand away from the towel, intertwining his fingers with mine, squeezing them lightly. “You can tell me.”
Finally, he looks at me, wearing an expression I’ve never seen on him before.
Something hesitant, and maybe…ashamed. “If Maggie and your father…” he says, “if things really are over between them, I don’t know what that means for me.
” He stops for a second. “I think I told you about my sisters. They’re younger and they live in different places.
Rachel’s in London and Annie’s in Germany, and we try to all visit together at least once a year, but it’s hard.
So, your dad and Maggie. I mean, I know you know this, but they’re the only other family I have left. And if they’re not together…”
He trails off, helplessly shrugging.
“I’ll have to choose, won’t I?” he says, his voice tight. “I won’t get to keep them both.”
My gut twists.
I was so young when my mother left for the United States when my parents separated.
I didn’t have to make a choice like this, but still, I remember the push-and-pull I sometimes felt as a child.
This yearning for my father, and at the same time, guilt, as if wishing he was more involved in my life was disloyal to my mother.
After all, she was the one who was there.
She was the one taking care of me. The one who loved me.
But I wanted to have both. Even when I knew it was impossible, I wanted to have them both.
“You can try,” I tell Jacob gently, but from the resigned look in his eyes, I know he knows the truth.
He leans toward me, brushing his lips against my forehead. “Thanks,” he says. And then he turns just a little bit, leaning his cheek against the top of my head.
For a moment, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just this. The two of us inside this kitchen, this foot of space. Something that’s entirely our own.
“We should go back out there,” I say after a while.
Jacob sighs, and I feel it, his chest rising and falling against my back.
“Yeah,” he says.
I place the jam back in the fridge and carry my now-cold toast out into the dining room, Jacob trailing behind me.
My father barely looks up when we enter, his head down, eyes glued to his phone.
“Any news?” Jacob asks, and my father shakes his head.
“No,” he says, but he doesn’t sound down about it. He’s still as upbeat as before.
I return to my seat and lift my toast to my mouth, taking a bite of it.
My dad looks over at me, and his lips dip into a frown. “That’s all you’re having?”
I chew for a second, my mouth full. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m not too big on breakfast.”
My dad blinks, and for the first time today, something besides excitement creeps into his expression. “Took a long time to make just that one piece of toast,” he says. His eyes flit to Jacob, then back to me.
I nearly choke.
“Toaster was broken,” Jacob cuts in smoothly. “Took a while, but we were able to fix it.”
And just like that, the cloud lifts, my father’s haze of happiness returning. His phone pings, and he looks back down at it, not noticing the way Jacob looks at me. Or the way he scoots his chair just the tiniest bit closer to mine.