Chapter 6 #2
Raffi decided to take a chance and put his arm around Ani.
If he felt any signs that she wasn’t enjoying it, he’d remove it, apologize, and stop flirting with her.
He shouldn’t be anyway. He and Ani were going to spend a lot of time together.
What the hell was his endgame here? If they hooked up, it would be awkward for months.
He filed away that thought for later, because then something wonderful happened.
Ani melted into him, getting closer, softer. And her enjoying it made him enjoy it even more. This was…interesting.
“Things changed, though,” Raffi said, “when she got to know the real me.”
He dared to look down at Ani, and she glanced up at him, an expression of curiosity coloring her face. God, those eyes.
The rep cleared her throat. “Well, if you wanted poetry stones, they’re right this way.”
Raffi removed his arm, sensing the moment was over. Ani smoothed down her dress, which was already quite smooth. They followed the sales rep outside.
After the two of them had checked out several types of stones, they agreed upon a style they both liked, which was a happy surprise.
“As for color,” the rep was saying, “we have this sandy color, a terra-cotta, a blue-gray, and white with gray veining.” She pointed to samples of the various options.
“White,” Raffi said, at the same time Ani said, “Sand.”
“Kami would want white,” Raffi said. “White and green? Can’t find a better bridal combination.”
Raffi thought this was a salient point that was airtight, inarguable. He would not be convinced to choose sand when there was an option for white stone. It’d be so striking, like an outdoor Versailles.
“I know Kami would want white,” Ani said.
The way she said Kami’s name reminded Raffi that he wanted, at some opportune time, to ask her what went down with her and Kami.
Why had she shrunk like that in Kami’s presence?
And why the hell—if their relationship ended badly, which was his guess—was she planning her wedding?
But right now, he had white stones to defend.
“Then what’s the issue?”
“Have you considered the scale at which we’re going to be covering your garden in this? White is going to be blinding.”
The rep stepped backward. “I’ll give y’all a moment.”
Ani whipped out her tablet from that giant tote bag of hers, took a photo of the white stone, and began tapping furiously.
“What’re you doing?” Raffi asked, hoping to catch a glimpse of her screen, but she shielded it from him.
“Give me a second,” Ani muttered, eyes narrowed in concentration. Raffi watched her hands fly over the glass in quick, precise motions, and before he realized it, he’d leaned in slightly, as if proximity might help him understand her better.
“Okay, look,” Ani said, handing him her tablet.
“That’s your garden with white stone, and this”—she swiped to a second image—“is your garden with sand-colored stone.”
It was all there, a photo of ?’s garden with the stones they’d been shopping for, tiling the ground in the image. And it was with deep regret that he had to admit that she had a fucking point. The white was way too much.
“What kind of sorcery is this?” he asked, still in awe of how she’d managed it.
“It’s called Photoshop. The image isn’t even close to perfect—”
“It’s close enough. You pulled that off in two seconds.”
She shrugged. “I’ve found it’s helpful for my brides to be able to visualize the space with different linens or flowers or whatever, so I got good at mocking things up.”
“You can say that again, damn.”
She looked at him expectantly.
“All right, yes. The white’s a disaster. I admit it. The sand looks better than I thought.”
Ani seemed to allow herself the tiniest victory smile. “And it matches so beautifully with the color of the villa’s stone.”
He had to agree there, too.
A short time later, they left the store with an order for a metric ton of rocks, plus some of the building materials for the dome, which they were modeling after their mutual favorite Pinterest image.
On the walk back to the van, Ani said, “Not bad, right? Turns out trusting other people isn’t the end of the world.”
She gave him a winning smile—bright, a little flirty, and completely unguarded.
He returned an easy grin. “And turns out I’m more flexible than you thought. Right?”
Ani’s cheeks went pink, then she said, with a playful glint in her eyes, “Not going to make the obvious joke.”
Raffi strolled along, pleased. “Didn’t even cross my mind.”
The laugh Ani gave was so true, so tickled, that Raffi felt something shift between them, and then she inched closer, so that Raffi felt something shift between them. He didn’t want to stop hanging out with her.
“So, any revised stance on those truffle fries? I’m getting hungry. Might be nice to stop and have a bite before going to the nursery?”
They reached the van, but suddenly Ani turned and stood in front of the hood. She chewed the inside of her cheek, as if holding back an entire conversation.
Raffi stopped a few steps behind her. The air between them went still. Her face was all control, but her fingers had curled into the sleeves of her coat, like she needed something to hold on to.
His stomach gave a quiet twist. “Everything okay?” he asked.
Ani let go of her coat, hands dropping to her sides. “Do you remember Lala? She’s an orthodontist, Armenian, dyed blonde hair often in a bun.”
Raffi’s brows furrowed. Lala? They were talking about food; why was she bringing up someone named—
Oh.
That Lala.
His whole body stilled. One of the women he’d slept with five or so years back, really sweet girl. Did not deserve the Raffi storm coming into her life. A weight settled behind his ribs, bracing for the inevitable, and fully earned impact.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He asked Ani out to lunch, again, even though the vibes felt completely different than the first day they’d met. But she had not only heard rumors about him, she’d heard the truth. The part of himself he regretted the most.
Ani crossed her arms. “You remember, then. She’s a friend of my sister’s.”
He exhaled sharply, dragging a clammy hand through his hair. “That was—that was years ago. I’m not that person anymore.”
Ani let out a short humorless laugh. “So? Does that change the fact that you pursued her, slept with her, and never called her again?”
Raffi flinched. A sharp, clean, deserved slap. The way Ani was looking at him, like she’d confirmed every reason not to trust him, cut deeper than he would have expected.
He couldn’t blame her, though. He hadn’t even forgiven himself.
“I was an asshole,” he admitted, voice lower now. “I—yeah. I did that.”
He finally met her gaze. He continued, “What you heard, that was true at one time. But I haven’t been that person for a while now. And yeah, I haven’t been in a relationship lately. That part’s…more complicated. But I’m not out there chasing hookups constantly. Not even close.”
Ani shook her head. “Honestly, Raffi. If I didn’t know a thing about you, maybe I’d go for those fries. Maybe. But I know people you’ve hurt.”
Raffi blinked. The knowledge hit him low in the gut, heavy and bewildering. She might…like him? At least a little? But understandably, would not go there. Still, even though it was a rejection, her admission gave him the first flare of hope since this conversation started.
He nodded. “Fair. Fair.” Then he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes on the ground. “I sent Lala an apology text about a year ago, by the way—not that it makes up for what I did.”
Ani didn’t speak.
“But I thought you might want to know how badly I felt about how I treated her. Still do.”
Silence settled between Raffi and Ani, taut like the moment before a string snaps. Raffi didn’t dare move. Ani stood still, too, her expression unreadable, eyes fixed somewhere just past him.
He swallowed, the sound too loud in their quiet. Then Ani spoke at last, her tone taking on a polite register. “Well. The errand at the nursery would be a lot easier if I had a van. Are you still up for it?”
He exhaled. Yes, yes, whatever you want, Ani, he thought. The sentiment came out much stronger, even in his head, than he’d expected.
“At your service. Direct me?”
She moved toward the passenger-side door. “Anshousht,” she said. Naturally.