13. Don’t Be Frightened
13
DON’T BE FRIGHTENED
NEHA
T he scent of garlic and cumin welcomed me as I let myself into my sister’s apartment.
I’d come straight from my new job.
I’d started two weeks ago, and I was already in love with my company, my colleagues, and my boss. The vibe at Carter Health was entirely different from Sterling. Here, people were relaxed. Suits were only worn when someone had a client meeting; the rest of the time, people wore what they felt like. The dress code was simple: Dress appropriately .
On the personal front, things were heating up but weren’t hitting boiling point .
Ansel and I talked every evening on the phone before we went to sleep, and on Sundays, we went for a walk in Central Park. We were dating, not dating.
I was getting to know Ansel, the man inside the suit. Like everyone else, he had fears and insecurities and made mistakes. I’d put him on a pedestal, and when he fell, he crashed big time in my eyes.
Now, I was going beyond my hero worship of him and accepting that he was human—a good one but still a human prone to making mistakes.
He was close to his family. His brother, a professor at NYU, and his retired parents lived in Santa Barbara.
The executive persona wasn’t separate from him. No, he was still that man, but that was not all he was.
“Finally!” Sanya called from the kitchen, balancing my niece on one hip while stirring what looked like sambhar on the stove. “I was starting to think you ditched us for your new fancy job.”
I laughed, stepping forward to kiss her cheek before reaching for my niece. “Time for some kisses, Aashi,” I cooed, scooping the toddler into my arms. She gurgled happily, resting her tiny hands against my shoulders.
“Tell me everything,” Sanya demanded, setting the spoon down and turning to face me. “How’s the M&A world treating you? Less backstabbing? Fewer soulless executives?”
I rolled my eyes but grinned. “A lot less backstabbing, a lot more passion.”
Sanya’s husband, Devlin, walked in from the living room, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder. “You look happy.” He kissed my cheek. “New job is going well then?”
“Yep!” I bounced Aashi in my arms. “It’s different, you know? Slower but more precise, no hurrying for the sake of it. I like it. I don’t miss Sterling at all.”
I didn’t miss the exhausting late nights, the cutthroat competition, the feeling of constantly being one misstep away from irrelevance.
“The only thing you’d miss would be Ansel and since he’s following you around like a puppy, I can see why you’ve moved on from high finance,” Sanya teased.
“He’s not a puppy,” I retorted.
“Oh, yes, he is,” Devlin remarked.
Devlin and Sanya met Ansel by accident a few days ago. He and I had been getting ice cream on Sunday near my place—just two blocks from where they lived—when they happened to walk by with the kids.
Despite how good things were, I still hadn’t given Ansel the green light to be more than friendly. There were times when we almost kissed but I didn’t let it go any further. Something was preventing me from taking a step with him—from dating-dating him.
Sanya caught the hesitation in my voice immediately, her gaze sharpening. “What?”
I sighed, shifting Aashi to one hip. “Ansel.”
“Just give the guy a break, stubborn woman,” Devlin pleaded.
“Mind your own beeswax,” I muttered.
“Since I’m not welcome here”—Devlin feigned being hurt—“I’m going to check on Rohan, and then he and I are going to set the table.”
“Rohan can’t walk, babe, I don’t think he can set anything,” Sanya joked.
“He can watch me set the table then. You two get the Ansel Situation out of the way before dinner.” With that he made a production of kissing his wife and walking out of the kitchen.
“He’s such a drama queen,” I muttered.
Sanya chuckled. “He liked him. He doesn’t understand why you won’t just give in and date him.”
I frowned, brushing my fingers over Aashi’s tiny curls. “It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t everything?” My sister rested her hip against the counter. “Neha, from where I’m standing, when a guy swallows his pride, calls out his workplace for being toxic, publicly admits he was wrong, and then comes to your doorstep to confess his feelings—that’s not complicated, Neha. That’s a man who’s all in.”
I exhaled, pressing my lips together. “He hurt me, Sanya.”
“I know.” She softened. “But people hurt people, it happens. Dev and I have been married for ten years and trust me there have been times I’ve thought about finding his service weapon. That’s life. That’s how relationships work.”
“I was humiliated, Sanya. It was…I can’t go through that again.”
“Why would you? Do you really think he’s such a dumb fool that he’s going to fuck up like that? And if that was his intent, why is he chasing you so hard?” Sanya exhaled sharply and shook her head. “Look, either you move on or you don’t. But this push and pull is not helping either of you. If you still love him, which I know you do, why are you punishing him and yourself from having what you both could have?”
I had no answer for that.
Sanya reached over and squeezed my hand. “Remember what Mummy used to say?”
“ Fear is the mind killer ,” I immediately recited.
Mummy was a big Frank Herbert fan, and her favorite book was Dune .
“You think I have to let my fear pass through me?”
“Yes, I do. When I met Devlin, I thought, oh my God, he’s a cop, he’ll get hurt, and my life will be ruined . But I love him, so I wasn’t going to let the fear of something that may happen fuck up my happily ever after,” Sanya said sagely. “I can guarantee you that no matter how much you try to protect yourself, you will get hurt and sometimes you will hurt someone else. You just have to do the best you can.”
Devlin called from the dining room, “Are we eating, or are we solving Neha’s love life all night?”
Sanya rolled her eyes. “Both!” she shouted back before nudging me toward the table. “Come on. Eat first. Overthink later.”
I helped Sanya bring sambhar, eggplant fry made like my mother used to, rice, and masala yogurt to the table.
After dinner, and kissing my niece and nephew goodnight, I headed home, with Sanya’s voice in my head. By the time I was in bed that night, ready for Ansel and my goodnight phone call, I was anxious and nervous.
“How was dinner?” he asked as he knew I’d been with Sanya.
“Good. Real…Ansel, I was…ah…wondering if you’d like to….” Fuck! But this was hard.
“Baby?”
He’d started calling me baby, which I loved so much. It was romantic without being too weird.
“I was wondering if we could…you know date…like date-date instead of date-not-date .” Okay, that was so much blabbering, I wasn’t sure it made any sense.
I waited for a response but got…silence.
And, then, more silence.
“Ansel?”
I heard a choked whisper. “Yeah, baby, we can date.”
“Are you…crying?”
I heard a sniffle. “Men don’t cry.”
I smiled. It was hard not to.
“Thank you for trusting me again,” he whispered.
My heart broke for him. “I don’t want you sad.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Neha. I hate it when you’re sad because I love you. When you hurt…I do as well. In fact, I’d rather I hurt, and you didn’t.”
My heart slammed in my chest. “What did you say?”
“I love you,” he repeated.
“Oh…I wasn’t sure if you….”
“I do love you, Neha. Very much.”
I changed the topic real fast because I couldn’t give him the words back, the three little words that had been tattooed on my heart for years because, fear was a motherfucking mind killer.