Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
B y the time the sun dipped behind the neighbor’s trees that evening, the house had taken on a different kind of energy—loose-limbed and quiet murmurs, glowing from the inside out.
Golden light stretched through the windows and spilled across the hardwood floors of Kash’s house, casting warm halos over piles of shoes, empty pizza boxes, and a cooler wedged in the corner like it had always lived there. The scent of tomato sauce and melted cheese mingled with something faintly floral from the backyard, where leftover sunlight still touched the patio.
In the spacious living room, all of their cousins—and a bunch of her friends—had sprawled in front of the massive plasma TV, arguing over movie choices while clutching paper plates piled with pizza. Beer bottles clinked on the low table, and someone had dug out fuzzy throw blankets from the linen closet like they were settling in for a long haul.
Kaif sat in the corner scrolling through a shared playlist doc, occasionally polling the room about reception songs. Muriel’s friend’s teen brother had taken over DJ duty with all the seriousness of a NASA engineer.
Diego leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter, a half-finished slice in one hand and a bottle of beer sweating in the other, watching it all with an irritation he worked hard to mask.
Strangely enough, the noise and the people grated on him, like sandpaper against his exhausted senses. Maybe because he had expected to come back to Tia and Kash and no one else.
Or maybe because her family was once again taking advantage of Kash’s generosity. Kaif, especially. The man had been absent for years, when Kash had needed him, and now, he was happily lapping up her hospitality, her house, and everything she offered without a hint of guilt.
Diego made sure to not show his irritation to Muriel though. It wasn’t her fault if she didn’t know the dynamics at play in the Shah family.
And he knew, as surely as his gaze returning to Kash like she was his true north, that she wouldn’t appreciate his protective urges. Would probably tip her chin high and call it interference.
Not that he gave a damn. Worrying about Kash was as natural as breathing now and he was tired of fighting it.
His gaze followed her before he even realized he was looking for her.
Kash walked around the other end of the kitchen to the sink and rinsed out a glass. Her top was a soft cream that bared her shoulders, her leggings black, her hair pulled up into a loose bun with strands falling against her cheek. The arch of her neck looked inviting.
She looked… rested. Not fully. Not yet. But there was something different in her posture, in her face. Not just the exhaustion she always carried—but a lightness. A little room to breathe.
He’d missed her more than was sane. Missed her voice. Her sarcasm. The way she looked at him when she was pretending not to look at all.
The silence in January should’ve helped. He’d filled it with meetings, events, fundraisers. Tried his best to give her the time and space she needed. He’d even stayed longer than he had originally planned, hoping it would help him forget their night even a little.
Instead, it made his longing for her now an intrinsic part of him. It pulsed at all times of the day, like some phantom limb.
He was already in too deep.
And if he was being honest, he didn’t want to climb out. Not anymore.
Reaching the kitchen island, he cleared his throat.
She turned and something flickered in her eyes. “Hey,” she said, a soft, shy smile coasting her lips. “I’ve been meaning to...” she cleared her throat, “catch up with you.”
“Hey.”
The kitchen was tucked in its own little pocket of quiet, the music and noise of the living room muffled by the distance.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Good. Tired. Coming out of a week of hospital hell.”
“I can tell.” He nodded toward the mug in her hand. “You’re on your second mug of that bland shit you don’t like. That’s the red flag.”
She laughed softly, brown eyes aglow. “Can’t get away from your hawk-like notice, can I?”
His heart thudded at the sound of her laugh, his skin thrumming at her nearness. “Didn’t know you were trying that hard.”
She glanced at him sidelong, brows raised. After a hesitant pause, she said, “You look tired. Was the tour a lot?”
“It was fine. Reminded me how much I hate traveling,” he said. “I’m jet-lagged from doing too many stupid press things in too many cities.”
“Press things,” she said, eyes brimming with laughter. “Very specific.”
He shrugged. “It was all soccer academy promo—fundraising dinners, campaign meetings, visiting schools, giving pep talks to seven-year-olds who now think I’m some kind of wizard.”
“And are you?”
He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. “Only with certain women.”
He waited for her to pick up the bait.
“You were in New York, right?” she asked instead, disappointing him.
“New York, Boston, L.A., Philly. I met with a few youth development orgs, did panels with ex-players about mentoring, and pitched to two brands about backing the scholarship fund.”
Kash tilted her head, visibly impressed. “That mentorship element pairs pros with kids from single-parent homes? That’s a smart angle.”
“You read about that?” he said, surprised. “Although it’s not just a PR angle. I want to get that fund into place.”
“I might’ve asked Muriel a few questions about the soccer academy,” she said, sounding nonchalant. But her interest spilled over to her entire face, bathing it in a golden glow. “Tried very hard to not make it look like I was keeping tabs on you.”
“Did it work?”
“Think so. The result is she’s hounding me for donations,” she said, walking around the island and stopping near him.
His heart nearly beat out of his chest when she leaned in and the scent of her skin—rose and sweat—coiled around him like a leash. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I offered the house for the wedding instead.”
He laughed and nudged her shoulder with his. “You’re cunning.”
She nudged him right back, smiling broadly. “Your cousin is scary. No wonder you stick to her like glue. She’s a financial advisor and bodyguard in one.”
“And now she’ll be your lifelong sister-in-law,” he retorted.
Kash gave a mock shudder, and they burst out laughing.
A strange warmth unfurled in his chest at their easy back and forth. Even as other parts of him turned rock hard. He cleared his throat. “I’m flattered that you took an interest in my work.”
“I might know a couple of Simon’s old colleagues who could be helpful,” she added. “He worked with a lot of people who loved throwing money at community legacy projects. I can put together names if you want.”
Diego blinked. “You’d do that?”
“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” She looked away, her fingers dancing at the edge of the quartz counter. Then looked up at him. “This soccer academy is a behemoth of a project, Diego. I finally understand how much commitment and energy it takes.”
He blinked at her apologetic tone. “You thought I was goofing off, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly,” she said, color cresting her cheeks. “I assumed it was more of a vanity project you were doing because you missed the spotlight. I made assumptions without learning anything about it.” She looked at her laced hands and sighed. “Basically, I acted like an asshole and there’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have a great opinion of me. Have been aware of that for a while.”
She grabbed his hands, her eyes shining with a wet sheen. “Mostly, I was just in my own world, chipping away at each day in survival mode.” Her fingers danced over the thick veins on the back of his hand before she loosened her grip and pulled away. Neither did he miss the fact that she didn’t deny her lack of a good opinion about him. As much as it still pricked, he could count on her to not lie to him.
“You’re building something solid. Something good. I’d be happy to even have a small part in it.”
He couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in his chest. He hadn’t expected that from her—interest, validation, support. He swallowed it down before it overwhelmed him, morphing into something else.
“What about you?” he asked, forcing himself back to neutral ground. “What’ve you been doing while I was being publicly charming?”
Her eyes held his for a long beat. “Taking care of myself, finally.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve seen my friends. Had several checkups that were long due. Even let Mona set me up on a date.”
His smile dipped. “A date?”
“Three, technically,” she said, gaze sweeping over his features, lingering a second longer on his mouth. “One ended after appetizers. One involved a man who lectured me about how and why patriarchy is important for civilization. The last one... I left before the drinks.”
He stared at her, lips twitching. “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”
She lifted her glass in mock salute. “Healing takes a lot of effort. Including subjecting myself to inane men who automatically assume that I need to be explained how the world works.”
Smiling, he looked at her closely. Her eyes were tired but no longer hollow. Her mouth had curves again. There was color in her cheeks.
She was still Kash—sharp, cutting, self-contained—but there was something else too. A spark he hadn’t seen in years.
“You do look different,” he said, softer this time.
“I’m trying to make it stick. This whole looking after myself first,” she said archly.
“And where in that manual did it say to let your brother and his martial bride-to-be have their wedding in your house?” he retorted drily.
She frowned. “I thought you would be happy. Tia definitely is.” Her mouth twisted, as if she really wanted his validation. “Finding an available budget-friendly venue so that they can have the wedding immediately was close to impossible. Muriel was close to tears, and you know that’s not a small thing.”
“I’m happy for her. Not you.” He looked at Kaif, then back at her. “Did he at least ask how you were doing?”
Her fingers tightened over the edge of the island while she blinked. “You know him, Diego. He’ll get around to it.”
“Yeah, right.” He couldn’t help the accompanying scoff.
Shock held him in place as she reached for his left hand behind an army of lemonade bottles. “I’ve never said this before, but I appreciate you looking out for me.”
“Kash—”
“No, please let me say this. I might shrivel up with embarrassment if I have to try again. Sentimental words aren’t my forte.”
“I don’t need a thank you speech.”
“You were amazing that night,” she said, her throat bobbing up and down. “You have been amazing for months, years even, quietly holding me up, even when I didn’t appreciate it or acknowledge it.” She swiped at her eyes roughly. “This time, I think you staved off a breakdown I didn’t know I was heading for.”
Something knotted in his throat. He covered it with a dry smile. “Yeah, that’s why I did it. Altruism badge. Maybe even a certificate.”
Kash laughed. It broke the air between them like glass, unexpected and beautiful. If he looked through the shards, would he find his heart at her feet too? Jesus, what was happening to him?
His hope that he’d built it up too much in his head all these weeks got shot to hell.
“Seriously, even the fact that you didn’t return for weeks helped.”
“Exactly what every dumped lover wants to hear,” he said, heaping humor into his words.
“Hey!” she said, slapping his shoulder lightly. “I didn’t dump you.” Her gaze turned serious again. “I want to reassure you that I have a clear head about us. That I won’t make it awkward.” She licked her lower lip. “The time apart gave me the space I needed to see you for what you really are.”
He lifted a brow. “And what’s that?”
“Tia’s wonderful dad,” she said lightly.
He couldn’t help the short, rough laugh that escaped him. “Yeah? That’s what it did for you?”
“Mm-hmm.” She sipped her drink. “Clarity.”
“Well, for me it was the opposite,” he said, voice lowering. The words rushed out of him, unbidden. “I spent all of January trying to forget what it felt like when you clenched me tight. I remembered the sound you made when I bit your shoulder. The way your hands curled in my hair. That little breath you take right before you break.”
Her eyes widened, breath catching.
“I used those memories more times than I’ll admit,” he added, deadpan. “You were very generous material.”
She stared at him, speechless, flushed.
“But hey,” he said, straightening, “shame about all that clarity and enlightenment you’ve got going for you now. I guess they will help you when you’re frustrated in bed.”
Her outraged gasp was like music to his ears. Not that it was her fault for not wanting more, for adjusting to their reality like an adult.
He’d already said too much.
Feeling like a besotted fool, he walked away.