Chapter Thirty
Ashish
“Mishra,” Gail interrupts, breaking my stare-down with the mug spinning in the microwave. I really should buy an electric kettle for their kitchen—but it’s almost March and the days of me spending all my time camped in Bernie’s office are getting alarmingly shorter.
“Gail, I brought muffins.” I gesture toward the box, flashing my most charming smile. I’m still not sure I’ve won her over. She barely reacted to Bernie and me walking into the office holding hands in December. According to Bernie, when she brought it up in their one-on-one, Gail had just shrugged and said I wasn’t even an employee—so it wasn’t her problem.
“You ever going to move to your office in engineering?”
“Nope,” I say cheerfully, grabbing my cup.
“Fair enough. When’s your Seattle trip?” She leans against the door jam, blocking my way, and I know exactly what this is—an interrogation. Everyone in this office loves Bernie, and after months together, Gail’s questions don’t surprise me.
“Three weeks.” I don’t want to go. I don’t want to think about how next year, I’m supposed to be helping a new engineering faculty set up a partnership. Hell, after this pilot, I don’t even know if I need to.
“Graham emailed me and asked if we could send Mike and Bernadette with you to orient their faculty and business team. They’re excited to learn from our experience.”
“Really?” I say, perking up at the idea. When it comes to Bernie, I act more like Ravi than myself. I’ve had to travel to Boston at least once a month to meet with clients and check in with Ravi. Bernie has only been able to come with me once, and every time I leave, it feels like I’m missing an essential part of myself. I finally understand why my dad moved to the U.S. so quickly after meeting my mom.
“Yes, is that an issue?” Her words are slow, testing, and I feel like there’s something I’m supposed to pick up—but I don’t.
“I’d love for them to come. Honestly, they’ve done almost all the work with the firm in selecting the community partner and building the program. Their experience is more valuable than mine at this point.”
Gail squints at me. It reminds me of how my high school German teacher used to look at me during exams. I tried, but I always knew whatever came out of my mouth could only barely be passed as German. “Alright…and you’re good with Graham?”
I try to keep the confusion off my face and nod slowly. “Yeah, he’s great. He was super helpful in the final stages of my initial grant proposal.”
I’d met with him a few times on Zoom and he’s been personable enough. After working with Bernie over the past few months, I realize we probably should have picked a different university than Seattle State, but at that point, I didn’t have a choice.
Seattle State was great, but could have been an opportunity to try something different with the grant. As it stands, all three of the universities selected had strong engineering programs, in or near urban areas, and were at research universities. Since the goal was to connect students and the community to research, it made sense to focus on research-heavy schools—but the biggest challenge so far has been teaching. In both my pilot and here at West Lafayette, significant effort had gone into helping faculty shift from research to teaching.
I pull a notebook from my back pocket and jot down a reminder to talk to Bernie about it. Maybe we could write another grant for teaching universities and--
Gail brings me back. “I’m surprised you didn’t consult with Bernie before she came to West Lafayette.”
“Hmm? Why’s that?”
“Well, she did her doc and postdoc at Seattle State. She worked on Graham’s team, probably around the time you were applying for the first grant.”
I laugh and rub the back of my neck. I want to avoid this topic at all costs—no need to let everyone know that I practically fangirled over Bernie. “He didn’t bring anyone to our meetings. We must have just missed each other.”
“Hmm.” Gail fixes me with a hard stare, and I have the distinct impression that I’ve not only failed the test but am about to get kicked out of her class. “I guess so.”
“So, we’re good? They can come?” I ask weakly.
“I’ll ask Bernie if she’s able, but I’m willing to approve it if you think it’s a good use of time and resources. I’ll ask Graham to pay for it out of his grant.”
I laugh. Gail’s a shrewd businesswoman, always making her team squeeze a dime from a penny. I take my cup and squeeze past her.
“I’d expect nothing less. Make sure to grab a muffin,” I say with forced cheer. “The blueberry ones are going fast.”
Hustling down the hall back to Bernie’s office, I grin. Gail may be right for calling me out —I never did move to my office in engineering. Why would I? I set my cup on my desk and glance over—the view is so much better here.
Bernie ignores me, headphones in place and working on some kind of complicated spreadsheet. Sometimes I like to sit here and fantasize about what she’d look like bent over her desk or pressed against the door. Unfortunately, Bernadette Murphy is a strictly no-PDA-at-work kind of person. She also doesn’t wear skirts, which essentially ruins the fantasy. Hell, besides that one time, she won’t even hold my hand until we were outside of the building.
At first, I was a little offended. I thought she was trying to hide our relationship. But we’ve been on a few double dates with Cody and his wife from the bike club. I know she talked to Gail about us. She just likes to keep things ‘professional.’
I smirk, clicking on a random tab, thinking of all the unprofessional things I’d like to do to her later. Unlike Bernie, I sometimes struggle to get to work; today is one of those days.
I pick up my phone to delay a little longer.
Ash: You good?
Ravi: Oh, did you remember you have a brother?
Ash: I literally talked to you last night.
Ravi: Now that you’re in loooove you don’t have time for us sad bachelors.
Ash: You could get a girlfriend.
Ravi: Some of us have work to do. You know because my brother decided to abandon me for two years so he could impress his new girlfriend.
Ash: Do you need anything from me?
Ravi: Honestly, it would be nice to have you back.
Ash: I’m thinking about negotiating more remote work for the Seattle State year. Maybe even tag teaming with Thomas or someone from West Lafayette.
Ravi: So, you’ll be here almost full-time next year?
Ash: I didn’t say that.
Ravi: Of course, I should have known. You’ll be working remotely from Indiana. What’s the plan here, Bhaiya? I can’t do this forever. I need you here. I’m not you, I can’t always answer people’s questions and remote works but it’s not perfect.
It’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I can’t ask Bernie to leave her job and I also can’t live in Indiana forever. I miss my parents, my apartment, and my office. I don’t think I can survive long-distance.
Ash: I don’t know Rav, I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard. I didn’t expect this to be a burden for you.
The reality is he is stuck with picking up the slack. He almost exclusively pitches to new clients with one of our junior engineers. This whole grant brings money to the firm, but it’s not a lot for the amount of work we have to do. My time as a consultant is basically like taking a leave of absence for two years. All I focused on was work before COVID. Building the firm, getting more clients, hiring more people. But staying home made me re-evaluate a lot of things in my life. One of them was being a better brother, a better son. The kind that actually makes time for my family.
Ravi: You’re not a burden. I just miss you. I’m worried you’re going to want to sell the business and move to Indiana.
Ash: It’s too soon to make those kinds of decisions.
Ravi: So you’ve thought about it?
Ash: Bernie is it for me, Chhote. I can’t imagine living somewhere permanently that she isn’t. But I don’t think this is where she wants to end up either.
Ravi: Why’d you have to find a good one? This would be so much easier if I hated her.
I laugh.
Ash: I bet.
Ravi: We’ll figure it out. It will make me feel better if I know you’re actually working on convincing her to move here. Check your email, I’m sending you a whole shit ton of busy work and questions I don’t want to deal with.
My tea’s cold but I drink it anyway. It’s bitter after sitting too long.
And isn’t that fitting , I think wryly.
I’m so fucking happy.
Just this morning, I wondered how I got so lucky—side by side with this beautiful girl, logging indoor miles on our bikes.
For Christmas, I’d registered her for her first hundred-mile road race, and we’d been training together most mornings. Toward the end of today’s ride, she looked over at me—sweaty, maybe a little miserable—but with this loony smile that made my heart stutter. I know with absolute certainty—I don’t want to be with anyone else.
She’s it.
Yet, I can’t stamp out this feeling that we decided to build this relationship without underpinning, not caring if the foundation can hold the weight of the structure. What if long distance broke us?
I turn off my phone and open my laptop. I can’t control the future. And I can’t control the past. I don’t know what subtext Gail was trying to relay to me but having Bernie with me outweighs my worry that we’ll run into her ex in Seattle. All I can do is give it my all and I hope it’s enough.
***
“Are you good?” I ask Bernie again. Throughout the entire flight, she’s been constantly shifting in her seat, looking out the window, and changing from one podcast to another. Now, suddenly, she’s quiet, too quiet. She stares out the window, and I want to know what she’s thinking. I reach up and stroke my hand down her hair. I know she’s left it down for me. I tug the ends, and she finally looks at me.
“Are you good?” I repeat.
“Fine,” I raise an eyebrow, and she smiles, leaning forward to brush a kiss against my lips. I want to deepen it, press her back in her seat, and take away all her worries, but it’s not the time. We’re on a plane headed for Seattle. There are babies and people snoring. It’s not sexy. I don’t get the plane sex thing.
I slide my hand down to warm her lower back. “Is it your period?” My mom raised me to not be squeamish about periods.
“No, I’m good. I’m just nervous.” Ever since Gail approved the trip to Seattle, Bernie’s been a little distant, a little too quiet. I know she’s worried about running into her ex. I just wish she’d talk about it. Paired with Gail’s cryptic questioning, I feel like I’m missing something vital here.
“Talk about it with me?”
She does that thing when she’s trying to decide how much to give me, pinching her lips together hard until they almost disappear from her face, big eyes searching mine.
“How about this.” I release her tray table and put my travel pillow on it. “Lean forward and I’ll rub your back. Then you can tell me what’s bothering you, sunshine. You’re driving me nuts.”
Honestly, I’m pretty uncomfortable myself. We’re both tall, and legroom is a commodity the grant wasn’t willing to pay for. Being in the middle seat is fucking torture, but I wanted to sit together, and the possessive asshole in me didn’t want her sharing space with the guy to my left. She looks over my shoulder, but that dude passed out hours ago.
“Okay, thanks Ash,” she whispers, folding her arms over my pillow and resting her body on the table. I lean back in my seat and rub her lower back with my right arm, trying to relax. I shift my legs to tangle with hers, giving myself a little more room. Each of her deep breaths under my palm releases some of my own tension.
“He’ll probably be there, in some of our meetings. I’m just feeling uneasy.”
“Hmm,” I respond, running my thumb up her spine and then back down. “Stephen?” I ask.
“Yes. He hasn’t been emailing me, but he was pushy at the conference.”
“Are you worried he won’t be professional?”
Bernie’s silent for a long time. I stroke the portion of her silky skin that her shirt isn’t covering and try to be patient. “No,” she says bitterly. “His job is the most important thing to him. He wouldn’t do anything. It’s just uncomfortable.”
“Anything I can do?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Did your mom get back to you?”
When Gail approved the travel, I assumed we’d stay with her mom—it’s what I would have done if my parents lived nearby. But I was surprised when she said she’d ask her mom if she wanted to get together. Bernie had mentioned things had been strained since her breakup.
“Yes, she said she wanted to go out to dinner on Wednesday night. Is that okay?”
“I think so. I hadn’t planned on doing evening stuff during this visit.”
“Okay, I’ll text her when we get in.”
“Are you excited to see her?”
“Yes, I miss her. I feel bad I didn’t come home for Christmas.” She’d come with me back to Massachusetts. It was probably the best Christmas I could remember since I was a kid. Bernie fits in perfectly with my family. “I’m not sure how she’ll react to you.”
“Hmm, I’m sure it will be fine,” I say confidently. I will charm the crap out of that woman.
“She just loved Stephen so much,” Bernie grumbles into my pillow.
I lean forward and kiss her shoulder. “She’s going to love me more, sunshine. I promise.”
She sighs, and I sit back, trying to stretch my legs out as far as they’ll go. I’m already crowding into Bernie’s space, but I can’t help it. There isn’t enough room.
Fucking airplanes .
Two more hours to go, I remind myself. Maybe a direct flight wasn’t the right choice. If we’d had a layover, we could have walked around a little.
I continue to rub Bernie’s back, her breathing evening out, and I try to drift off.