Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Nima stopped his truck on Mari’s dark, snowy driveway, just out of sight from her house. He needed to make a plan. And take a few deep breaths.
The other shoe had dropped. His time with Mari had been too good to be true.
While she’d told him he didn’t have to leave, how could he stay?
Her cabin couldn’t accommodate another guest, not unless he shared Mari’s bed again.
And he’d had misgivings about that last night, even before Kat arrived and made it clear he wasn’t welcome.
He didn’t regret spending two days with Mari, but calling her a friend and agreeing to sign the divorce papers was hard. It would be even more difficult if he’d woken tomorrow morning with her in his arms again. No, it was better to rip off the bandage and leave now.
He pulled out his phone as he deliberated his next move.
He could surprise his mother in Denali for the holiday.
She’d love that. But putting so much distance—a five to six-hour drive in winter conditions—between himself and Mari didn’t sit right.
What if she needed him? Kat wouldn’t be able to carry or lift Mari like Nima could.
Plus, he didn’t want it to look like he was running away. Again.
The likelihood of Mari and Kat needing him hovered near zero percent, but still . . .
He texted Tseten.
Nima: Can I crash at your place for a day or two?
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Tseten: Absolutely. I’m at Pema’s cleaning up earthquake damage and staying for Christmas Eve dinner. You know the code to my door. Make yourself comfortable!
A second message quickly followed the first.
Tseten: How’s Mari?
Nima pictured her moving around her house on crutches and tapped out a quick, honest reply, without going into details.
Nima: Stronger. She’s on the mend.
Tseten: Glad to hear it! See you later tonight.
Nima replied with a thumbs-up emoji and a thank you before putting the truck in gear. It was better that Tseten wasn’t home. Nima needed time to himself to process the events of the last few days. No doubt Tseten would have questions when he returned.
As the raven flies, Tseten didn’t live far from Wildwood, but limited roads in the Chugach Mountains meant Nima had to take the Seward Highway into Anchorage, then wind up toward the peaks.
No matter. The drive helped clear his head.
Diffuse streams of green and purple aurora flickered on the northern horizon as Nima arrived at Tseten’s remote but modern house.
He parked and grabbed his bag before taking in the surrounding beauty.
His breath fogged in the frosty night air while he snapped pictures of the night sky with his phone.
He wanted to share the moment with Mari but resisted the urge to text her.
How many colorful auroral displays had come and gone over the past ten years? Just because they’d spent a couple of passionate days together didn’t mean they were texting buddies now. Nima would respect Mari’s wish for a fresh start and not pester her.
Later, as he sat on Tseten’s couch with a beer in hand, the house shook and shuddered from another earthquake.
He paused the movie he’d been watching to focus on the noises and movements of the house.
His beer can crinkled in his tight grip as he forced himself to draw even breaths.
Alaska was seismically active. He’d been through too many earthquakes to count.
This was simply one more. He needed to overcome his fear.
As he hesitantly sat back again and forced his feet onto the coffee table, his phone pinged with a text. He glanced at the screen, assuming it was his mother or Tseten, but froze when he saw a new message from Mari.
Mari: Where are you? Are you okay?
Dropping his feet to the floor again, he rested his elbows on his knees as he stared at her text. What was she asking? If he was okay after the earthquake? Or if he was okay with them?
Nima’s answer was the same, regardless of which question she asked.
Nima: Tseten’s. I will be.
Someday. He hoped.
Nima: You okay?
Mari didn’t respond for several minutes, long enough for another minor tremor.
Mari: I’ll be okay too.
The earthquake might have prompted her to text him, but clearly, they were no longer talking about aftershocks.
A whirlwind of emotion overwhelmed Nima, and he turned off the TV.
It hadn’t been holding his attention tonight anyway, not when thoughts of Mari preoccupied his mind.
Reconnecting with her filled him with immense gratitude and deep sorrow.
They’d missed so much of each other’s lives.
He should feel excited about their future and a fresh start.
After all, she was back in his life now.
So why wasn’t he happy? Why had dark clouds settled over him?
Nima stood and walked to the kitchen island, eyes locked on the water-stained manila envelope.
He reached around his neck and unclipped the chain with their wedding bands.
They clinked against one another as he closed the clasp and set them on the counter.
Then, only two days after learning they’d been married, he began the solemn task of understanding their divorce paperwork.
Mari lay in bed staring at her phone. After a medium-sized earthquake had woken her, her first thought had been of Nima. She’d immediately wanted to comfort him and ask if he was okay, only afterward realizing the vagueness of her question.
His response was equally vague. Did he mean he’d be okay when his heart stopped racing? After the aftershocks slowed? Or had he interpreted her question to be about them and everything they’d recently learned about each other?
Mari felt the same about them. One day she would be okay, wouldn’t she?
Even if she was positively heartsick right now.
She’d insisted she only wanted his friendship, so why was she so upset?
And why was she relieved he was nearby? Tseten’s place wasn’t far at all.
When Nima had left her house earlier, she’d worried he’d started the long drive to Denali.
Mari winced at the ache in her ribs as she slung back her blanket and reached for her crutches.
She’d slept for hours, her body demanding rest to heal and her heart needing an escape from the confusing emotions spiraling through her.
But right now she’d focus on her growling stomach and throbbing ankle.
She’d missed a meal and a dose of pain pills.
She hobbled to the bathroom and took care of business, emerging to realize the only lights on in the house were those on the small Christmas tree. They should have looked magical, but the sparkle dimmed without Nima. Would it take another ten years for her heart to recover from the last two days?
Kat lay fast asleep on the couch. After hours spent traveling back from Maui, her sister had to be exhausted.
Too bad. Mari lightly poked her with the end of a crutch and smiled, her glum mood lifting a little with the opportunity to prod her little sister.
“Move over,” she said. “Injured lady needs to sit.”
Kat blinked her eyes open, then quickly folded her legs under herself to make room. She reached over and turned on a lamp before picking up her phone. “Oh my god. It’s nine p.m. We practically slept through Christmas Eve.”
If Nima had been there, Mari would have been disappointed about that. As it was, she didn’t care much. Ba, humbug.
“Did we miss your meds?” Kat asked, rubbing her eyes.
“Yeah, I should have taken something by now. My ankle is throbbing. Could you heat dinner for me first? It’s better to take pain pills with food.
” She didn’t tell her sister that her caretaking wasn’t as good as Nima’s.
He’d set alarms on his phone for Mari’s meds, arranged groceries, made her meals, helped her bathe, and fed her at regular intervals.
He’d selflessly doted on her, despite that she’d cut off all communication with him ten years ago. Her throat dried at the thought.
“Of course,” Kat said. “Which pizza do you want?”
Pizza didn’t sound appetizing anymore. “I’d like leftover lentil soup, please.”
“You’re not going to have pizza?” Kat asked, frowning. “It’s your tradition.”
“Maybe later.” Kat glanced at her phone and gave Mari a skeptical look. Given the time, they both knew Mari wasn’t likely to eat any pizza after a hearty bowl of soup, especially considering she’d probably go back to bed afterward.
To her credit, Kat delivered the soup on a tray with warm bread, then helped Mari elevate her injured ankle.
Once Kat was situated cross-legged on the other end of the couch with a plate full of pizza, she said, “Okay, dish. What happened? How the heck did Nima, of all people, end up here? And how are you, both physically,” she gestured at Mari’s leg with a slice, “and emotionally? If I had known the truck in your driveway was Nima’s, I might have accidentally smashed one of his headlights. ”
Mari dropped her spoon as Kat aggressively bit into her pizza.
“Please don’t,” Mari begged. “Nima has been nothing but kind and helpful over the last two days. He doesn’t deserve your attitude—or threats.
” She sometimes worried about her sister’s vindictiveness.
Kat was so ready to protect those she loved at any cost.
“He destroyed you, Mari. You didn’t even visit Alaska for over a year after that.”
Mari let out a heavy sigh, her eyes welling with tears. “Yeah, well, turns out I destroyed him, too.”
Kat slowly swallowed, then set her plate on the side table and took Mari’s hand in both of hers. “What do you mean? What actually happened?”
A sob choked out of Mari, and Kat moved Mari’s food tray to the coffee table before wrapping her in a hug.
Mari winced in pain. “Too tight,” she breathed. “I’ve got bruised ribs.” She sniffled as Kat loosened her arms. “Hurts to cry, too.”
“Bruised ribs? Oh my god, Mari—there’s so much I need you to tell me.” Her sister sighed. “If you want to share.”
It was such a complex story. “Where do I start?”
“At the beginning? Why did you and Nima break up in the first place?”
Mari sucked in a shallow breath. “Quick version—Nima and I got married in Nevada.”
Kat blinked. Then blinked again. “Legally married?” When Mari nodded, Kat said, “I have so many questions. But Mari, this is not softening my anger toward Nima. He’s been your husband all this time?”
“He didn’t realize we were married until I asked for a divorce.”
“How could he not fucking know?”
“It was Burning Man.” Mari shrugged, unsure how to convey everything that had happened. “It’s a long—and convoluted—story.”
“Okay . . .” Kat’s eyebrow arched, clearly wanting to push the issue. But she must have seen reluctance in Mari’s expression because she asked, “And when did you ask for a divorce? Has he just been sitting on the divorce papers?” She probably thought Mari had served Nima the papers years ago.
“No. I asked only a few seconds before the earthquake.” Mari’s eyes welled with fresh tears as she recalled the look on Nima’s face when she’d made the request. “Then the tree snapped, and it fell on me.” She snorted a laugh as she cried harder. “Oh my god, was that karma?”
“What? Fuck no, Mari. Why would you even think that?”
Mari’s lips trembled as she said, “Because all these years, I never gave him a chance to tell me what really happened on our wedding night and the days that followed. And I’m terrified I’m about to lose him again.”