Chapter 32
COLE
On Saturday night at the beginning of June, I waited for Jiya to arrive at my house. I had wanted to pick her up for our “date”, but she had insisted on driving herself.
“It doesn’t make sense for you to come here and pick me up and drop me back,” she had said over the phone earlier that week. “I’ll bring the car over to your place.”
I had tried to argue at first, mostly because the idea of picking her up had felt like part of the evening.
I had imagined ringing her doorbell, seeing her open the door, and walking her to the car like a proper gentleman.
Instead, I found myself pacing in my living room, glancing at the clock every few minutes like a nervous teenager.
Disheartened that I wouldn’t be picking her up as planned, I changed plans at the last minute.
I had originally thought of bringing them when I picked her up, but since she was driving here instead, I placed them carefully in a tall glass vase on the small table near the entrance.
The sweet scent of the flowers filled the room.
I decided to take her out for dinner and dancing.
Even thinking the word date still made my chest tighten with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy.
I had finally mustered up the courage to ask her about going out after I had broken up with Stephanie, who had taken the news rather well, much to my surprise. That conversation had gone smoothly, but that had not made the next step any easier.
Because asking Jiya out had felt different.
Much more important.
Two weeks earlier, I had stopped by Jiya’s house to talk to her about it.
I had found her sitting slumped on the small bench beside her front door.
Her shoulders had been hunched, and my heart had tightened immediately.
She hadn’t said anything that night, but the next day, while we were watching the cotton-candy sunset at the docks, she finally opened up and told me about Patty.
I hated seeing her so sad.
I hated that she had to deal with awful incidents back-to-back, as if life kept testing her strength over and over again. All I had wanted in that moment was to protect her from it somehow, even though I knew that was not something anyone could truly do.
Tonight, however, I wanted her to forget about all of that.
Even if it was only for a few hours.
My doorbell rang at exactly 7 p.m.
My heart jumped.
I walked to the door and opened it.
And then I saw her and stood there, breathless.
Jiya looked absolutely stunning.
She wore a royal purple dress that hugged her curves in a way that made my brain momentarily forget how to function. I was trying very hard not to stare too obviously, and then I realized I had not said a single word for several seconds.
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” she asked, biting her lip nervously.
My mind scrambled to find a coherent response.
Too much? If she only knew what was going on in my brain right now.
Shaking my head quickly, unable to utter any words for a few seconds, I stepped forward and handed her the white lilies. “I wanted to surprise you with these.”
Her face lit up instantly as she accepted them. “Thanks so much, Cole,” Jiya said softly. “They are gorgeous.”
Then she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.
The soft brush of her lips against my skin sent a sudden jolt through me. My heart skipped a beat. I could feel the warmth of where she had kissed me lingering on my cheek, and I was fairly certain my pulse had just doubled in speed.
“So are you,” I said before my brain had time to filter the words.
She looked up at me with her big, honey-brown eyes.
Those eyes had a way of undoing me every single time.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
For a moment, her gaze lingered on mine before she looked away, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. “Shall we?”
I had made a reservation at one of the fine dining restaurants in the city. I wanted the evening to feel special without saying that out loud.
Tonight mattered… in more ways than one.
After a delicious seafood dinner, I drove toward the club with Jiya sitting beside me.
Music from the radio filled the car as the city lights flickered past the windshield.
According to the radio, the temperature was a cool twenty degrees Celsius, which would drop down to fifteen later in the night. The host spoke casually about the pleasant evening weather, but I was only half listening. My attention kept drifting toward Jiya beside me.
We chatted about work and my brother’s children as we drove, the conversation flowing easily the way it always did with her.
There was something comforting about the normalcy of it, about the way she listened carefully and laughed softly at my stories.
It made the drive feel shorter than it actually was.
We reached the club and hopped out of the car.
The Jazz Salsa Club was exactly like the name sounded. The faint rhythm of Latin music spilled out through the doors even before we stepped inside. Entering the club, I led Jiya to the small, private table I had reserved for the two of us in the corner.
The place was packed with couples dancing in the centre of the room, their movements fluid and confident under soft, warm lights that glowed from above. The lighting gave everything a golden hue, and the music wrapped around the room like a heartbeat.
After ordering drinks, I took off my black blazer to be more comfortable. My dark blue jeans and thin white sweater made me feel more relaxed, as if I had shed some of the nervousness that had followed me all evening.
I watched Jiya take a sip of the red wine I had ordered for her.
She had insisted even at the restaurant that she didn’t want wine, probably because she didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable. But I knew she loved wine, and I had ordered it for her.
She had glanced at the glass for a second before finally taking a small sip, and I couldn’t help smiling.
I no longer had urges with work keeping me very busy. That chapter of my life felt farther away now than it had months ago.
Watching her sit across from me tonight, laughing softly and letting herself relax, made me realize just how different things felt.
My eyes drifted to the dance floor again.
Couples moved effortlessly across the room, their steps synchronized to the music. The rhythm pulsed through the floor, and even sitting still, it was impossible not to feel it.
I glanced back at Jiya.
She was swaying slightly to the music in her seat without even realizing it, her shoulders moving subtly with the beat.
“Ready?” she asked.
I blinked.
“Ready for what?” I asked.
She tilted her head toward the dance floor.
I didn’t know how to salsa, but I knew she had been taking lessons over the past few months. That was exactly why I had chosen this club in the first place. I wanted her to have fun. I wanted her to smile. I wanted to see that carefree laugh that had slowly become one of my favourite sounds.
So far, the plan had been working perfectly.
Until she asked me to dance.
“Umm… Jiya,” I fumbled, clearing my throat and feeling very aware of the fact that everyone around us seemed to know exactly what they were doing. “You go ahead. I’m not good at dancing.”
“What are you talking about?” she said immediately. “I saw you bust some moves at the wedding.” She smiled teasingly. “You’re a quick learner.”
I shook my head.
The idea of making a fool of myself on the dance floor while everyone else moved with practiced ease did not sound appealing.
But Jiya didn’t seem remotely convinced.
She leaned forward slightly and held her hand out toward me.
“I’ll teach you,” she said.
There was a playful determination in her voice that made it very clear she was not taking no for an answer.
Knowing I couldn’t get out of it, I took her hand and stood up.
Her fingers were warm in mine as she pulled me toward the dance floor.
I licked my lips nervously.
The music felt louder out here, the rhythm pulsing through the crowd.
I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. And I definitely didn’t want to make a fool of her.
But pretty soon, something surprising happened.
I started having a great time.
Jiya was a good teacher.
She laughed softly whenever I stepped in the wrong direction, guiding my hands and correcting my steps without making me feel embarrassed.
The music changed from one song to the next, and couples around us rotated partners.
We exchanged partners while the songs changed, and I ended up learning new moves from each of them.
The rhythm started to make sense.
My feet moved more naturally.
And every time I ended up back in front of Jiya again, her smile made the entire experience feel worth it.
Before I knew it, the night had flown by.
The final song of the evening began.
A slow jazz melody drifted through the speakers, softer than the energetic salsa beats that had filled the room before.
Couples moved closer together on the dance floor.
Jiya stepped toward me again.
This time, the movement was more intimate.
Her hand rested gently on my chest, and I placed my hand at the small of her back as we began to sway slowly to the music.
She leaned her head against my cheek.
Our bodies were so close that a sheet of paper couldn’t pass between us.
The noise of the room faded into the background.
All I could feel was the closeness of her beside me and the rhythm of the music guiding us across the floor.
On the drive back to my apartment, I stopped at a red light and glanced at Jiya.
She was gazing out of the window, her eyes following something in the darkness outside that I could not see. I wondered what she was thinking about.
Was it me? Was it the children? Or was she thinking about her past… about the man who had once been part of her life? A burning sensation crept into my stomach at the thought that she might have been thinking about Emma’s father. The idea twisted uncomfortably inside my chest.
When we arrived at my apartment, I parked the car, and we stepped inside.