Chapter 33 #2
Rohit couldn’t help but chuckle. “I deserved it.”
Once they’d ended the call, Rohit stood, ignoring the cramps in his tired feet, and contemplated his apartment.
Suddenly, it looked so stark and austere.
Boring. He’d unknowingly resisted making this space a home; it was a budget-friendly shelter, a place to eat and sleep and convince himself that eventually, somehow or someway, things would work out for him.
But trendy décor and sentimental knickknacks were the last thing Rohit needed. Luckily, he knew exactly what he did need—or, more specifically, who .
Cynthia. Cynthia was home.
Rohit glanced at his phone and winced. It was almost midnight and he was overdue for a shower, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he was pocketing his car keys and stumbling for the front door.
He had to see her, had to make things right.
Besides, didn’t rom-coms always end this way?
The guy appearing at the most inopportune moment to reconcile with the girl?
If only he had a gift or something for her, he mused, reaching for the doorknob. He’d practice what he needed to say in the car or maybe he could…Rohit swung open the door and nearly knocked Cynthia over.
Plans for a heartfelt, hastily rehearsed speech flew into the abyss. “What are you doing here?” he blurted out.
She shifted her weight, nervousness splashed across her lovely features. “I know how much you appreciate grand gestures…Can I come in?”
Wordlessly, Rohit shuffled backward, trying not to breathe too deeply as she stepped past him in a heady, familiar mist of sandalwood that made his chest ache.
She stopped a few feet from his couch, hesitant. “Can we…can we sit?”
It was one of those rare moments where her hard, unyielding edges gave way to her softer side, and Rohit couldn’t deny that he welcomed the answering flutter in his chest. That flutter morphed into wild, flapping wings when, after he’d seated himself on the couch, Cynthia didn’t seek the other end.
She chose to sit only a few inches away, and it was all Rohit could do not to reach for her.
But she didn’t look at him, choosing instead to stare at her lap. “I didn’t leak your information to Melanie,” she said.
A part of Rohit wanted to believe her, but a frisson of doubt pricked at his spine anyway. “But no one else knew.”
“I’m not completely blameless,” Cynthia admitted, meeting his gaze. “I accidentally let it slip to Jilly during my Kim K–level meltdown after my dad announced his retirement.”
Rohit pressed his lips together, mentally filing away “Kim K–level” to research later, but Cynthia saw the confusion on his face and a smile tugged at her lips.
“I ugly-cried in the parking lot in front of Jilly and Malik,” she clarified. “Anyway, Jilly thought she was doing me a favor running to Melanie with the information. Turns out Jilly was one of our whistleblowers, too.”
“I spoke to her a few days ago, and she didn’t mention any of this.”
“You spoke to Jilly? On the phone?” Cynthia’s eyebrows furrowed and Rohit was struck by how much she could resemble her father.
“No, I saw her at the office.” Rohit gestured at his laptop on the counter.
“So you’re not fired?”
Rohit cocked his head to the side. “Do you want me to be?”
Cynthia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “ No. ”
The honesty in that single syllable drew Rohit closer to her, the fake leather couch squeaking under the tentative movement. “How could you let something so important ‘slip’?” he asked.
“I feel horrible about it.” Guilt blanketed her eyes. “I was just so upset and hurt. I was a mess in the parking lot and…I regretted it immediately. Rohit, I am incredibly sorry.”
The last of her apology was delivered on a tremulous quiver and, despite himself, Rohit found himself inching closer again. “Well, I’m not in the clear,” he said. “Your dad told me to stay away for a while and sit tight. Who even knows what that means.”
“We need to fight this,” Cynthia said.
We. Rohit closed the distance some more, but she didn’t seem to notice. The shame was still there, but Cynthia’s eyes had brightened with the passion and determination he knew so well.
He loved her—every part of her. His entire life, he’d been taught to believe a marriage lasted seven lifetimes, and before today he’d tucked that piece of information away as an old wives’ tale, next to other silly beliefs like the unluckiness of black cats or the power of a lucky penny.
But in this moment, Rohit knew with stunning clarity that seven lifetimes with this woman wouldn’t be enough.
He was drawn to her, as if his soul were a magnet and in her was the opposite pole.
She’d strengthened their magnetic field, charged it with an unknowable, irresistible force with one simple word: we.
“Your dad told me to stay out of the limelight for a while and I don’t think his instincts are wrong,” he reminded her, his arm sneaking around her waist before he could think better of it.
It was as if his body were reaching for its other half, and yet Rohit couldn’t lean in fully, not when his soul needed reassurance that it wasn’t the only one who had found its mate.
He needed to know that hers yearned for his, too.
Cynthia didn’t disappoint. She never does , Rohit realized as her strong, capable fingers found his forearm and squeezed. Something new washed over Rohit, better than relief.
Love. Rohit tugged her even closer.
“We’ll fix this. Somehow, we’ll fix it.” she said.
Again, that word: we. That beautiful, addictive word.
His heart expanded, nudging a sigh from his lungs as her body relaxed against his, pushing what could no longer be contained from his chest in the dizzying pull between them.
“I love you,” he said to this unpredictable, unknowable woman who was a million different things, layered and lush, and deserved to hear these words every day. “I love you so much.”
She pulled back, tears in her eyes. “No!” she said, competitive as always.
“I wanted to say ‘I love you’ first.” Twisting away, Cynthia leaned over the side of the couch where she’d dropped her purse, and when she straightened, a see-through container with a heart-shaped cupcake inside was in her hands.
An adorable blush seeped onto her cheeks and her chin dipped.
“I know it’s cheesy,” she said, gesturing to the confection, “but…do I still have a chance?”
Rohit half smiled. This woman. Here she was, his every fantasy brought to life, sitting in his living room, trying to win him over. She’d won him over long ago and she still hadn’t figured it out.
“Don’t you understand?” he said, gently taking the cupcake and placing it on the table. He then entwined his hands with hers, loving the way she immediately held on tight. “It’ll never be too late for us.”
Her eyebrow quirked. “Is that a line from a movie?”
Rohit abandoned her hands to cup her jaw. “No, that’s all me.”
Her face lit up and she smiled, and, finally, Rohit breathed deep. I’m home. And then he pressed his lips against hers.