Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Tseten returned home later that evening, Nima was still standing dazed at the kitchen counter.
He’d dragged his hand through the fur on the top of his head so many times, it likely stood on end.
Lost in a mix of memories and emotions, he realized too late that Tseten could see the wedding rings lying next to the divorce papers.
Tseten placed a bag on the counter as he studied Nima. “I gotta be honest. Right now, you look like the one who got hit by a hundred-foot-tall spruce tree. I thought you were going to be staying with Mari for a while, playing nurse? Did something happen?”
Nima pictured himself sleeping in the chair next to Mari’s bedside, cooking dinner for her and sitting down to a shared meal, relaxing on the couch for movie night, lifting her in and out of the tub, and spreading her beautiful, curvy body out on the sheets beneath him.
He’d had a glimpse of what his life might have been like.
A few moments later when Tseten asked, “Are you okay?” Nima realized he hadn’t answered.
“My time with Mari was perfect.” A dream come true.
“That’s great. I was hoping the two of you would finally work things out.
So, why are you here then?” Tseten asked as he began pulling leftovers out of his bag—Pema’s momos from the looks of it.
Normally Nima would have been salivating at the opportunity to feast on her legendary Tibetan dumplings. But tonight he was too preoccupied.
“Kat came home,” Nima explained as Tseten transferred containers into his refrigerator. “She returned from Hawaii early to take care of Mari.”
Tseten glanced at Nima with a frown. “When Kat and her parents texted asking after Mari, I tried to reassure them she was okay. I stuck to the facts. But I didn’t mention you, since I wasn’t sure how they’d react, given how Kat has always seemed to blame you for, well, breaking Mari’s heart.
I know I shouldn’t mix myself up in all this, but I wanted you and Mari to have time to .
. .” he trailed off and shrugged, “clear the air and reconnect, I guess.”
“Mari wasn’t the only one with a broken heart,” Nima said, realizing he’d buried his hand in the fur on the top of his head again and immediately dropped his arm. “But she and I did reconnect. I think we have a solid base for a friendship.”
“That sounds encouraging.” Tseten’s eyebrows rose along with his optimism. “I mean, given mutual broken hearts and that you haven’t spoken in ten years.”
“If all I can have with Mari is a friendship, I’ll take it,” Nima admitted. “Three days ago, that would have thrilled me.”
“But now?” Tseten’s gaze swept over the rings and papers on the counter.
Nima picked up the rings. “But now I want so much more.”
Tseten eyed the silver bands. “You want a commitment ceremony?”
“I want a marriage,” Nima corrected.
Huffing a laugh, Tseten said, “Don’t want to burst your bubble, but, uh, you’re still a yeti. A legal marriage requires identification and an in-person trip to the courthouse. We don’t do in-person trips to the courthouse.” Seemingly flustered, he shook his head.
“Before our trip to Nevada, I would have agreed with you. But we visited a courthouse and obtained a marriage license. According to Mari, we married a few days later in a ceremony at Burning Man. Unfortunately, I have very few solid memories of it—a hot day in the desert and too much unfamiliar food and drink from strangers—including what I suspect were psychedelic mushrooms.” He glanced over at Tseten.
“We’ve been legally married all these years, and I didn’t know it. ”
“Magic mushrooms? Married?” Tseten dropped onto a stool. “I can’t believe Mari kept this to herself for a decade.”
Nima nodded, chest aching again for what he and Mari had lost, and for what she had endured.
“And now she wants a divorce.” He absentmindedly straightened the papers.
“It’s a reasonable request, and I’m surprised she didn’t do it sooner.
But . . .” he trailed off, his gut clenching with apprehension.
“But?” Tseten echoed.
Nima glanced at his friend. “But I never stopped loving Mari. And for the last two days, I’ve had a taste of what our life could have been like. I still want her to be my wife.”
Tseten slowly crossed his arms. “Have you told Mari?”
How could he? Discouraged, Nima shook his head. “She’s been very clear and upfront. She wants a divorce and friendship—nothing more. And I want her to be happy.”
Tseten slowly nodded, as if he understood, but then in a deep, sage-like voice asked, “What if telling Mari how you really feel will make her the happiest?”
Nima glanced down at the rings as he considered Tseten’s suggestion.
But the fear of rejection loomed large. “I’m afraid that if I tell her I still love her, she’ll tell me she doesn’t feel the same.
Or worse, won’t even want to be friends anymore.
It might ruin the fragile connection we’ve rebuilt.
What if she won’t want me in her life at all? ”
“That’s a risk. But I’m guessing that not talking, not trusting each other, is what got you into this situation.”
Nima blinked and leaned heavily on the counter as he digested Tseten’s words.
How had he so quickly broken his pledge to be honest, open, and to trust Mari and himself?
He thought about how they’d kept silent after Burning Man, never sharing their feelings with anyone, resulting in what seemed to be a sad and lonely ten years for them both.
“You’re right, Tset. I need to talk to her. ”
Before he lost his nerve, Nima scooped up his phone and swiped to his texting app. “I’m going to message her now.”
Nima: Are you free the day after Christmas? I’d like to talk to you.
He quickly hit send, then fought the urge to jump in his truck and return to her house tonight.
He ached to see her, to touch her, and to speak from his heart.
But it was nearly ten p.m. on Christmas Eve.
Kat was there, and Mari needed rest and sleep to heal.
He’d waited ten years to talk with her. He could wait another day.
Then he’d risk his heart and live with the consequences, whatever they might be.
An overwhelming sense of urgency swept through Mari as she filled her sister in on the details of her and Nima’s breakup and recent reconnection while her soup turned cold.
“Kat, I need to go to Nima. I need to tell him . . . I’m not even sure what to say.
I just . . .” She closed her eyes as she released a shuddering breath, and tears threatened. “I just need him.”
“Okay,” Kat said slowly, as if trying to calm Mari. “Send a text and ask him to come over. You said he’s with Tseten. He can be here before you know it.”
Mari vehemently shook her head. Her sister wasn’t getting it. “No. After Nevada, I gave up on him, on us. This time I’m going to show up. I need to go to him.” She paused, then added, “Right now,” because her sister didn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.
Kat glanced at her phone. “It’s nearly ten p.m. on Christmas Eve. Plus . . .” she cocked her head and gestured to Mari’s injured ankle, “you can’t drive with that air cast on.”
Mari’s patience was unraveling. “I don’t care what the fuck time it is.
I need to see Nima. You are going to drive me to Tseten’s house, Kat.
You're my caregiver, and this is part of my essential care.” Was her sister being purposefully obtuse?
“Did you miss the part where I blocked his number. Me. The one person he should have been able to count on.” Tears spilled from her eyes, and a shiver of fear ran up her spine as she thought about the potential dangers he’d faced in the Lower Forty-Eight when he was scared and alone.
“That’s horrible and all,” Kat admitted. “But he’s not blameless. He didn’t talk to you for ten long years, Mar. You’re just going to forgive him?”
“I already have. And remember, I made it nearly impossible for him to talk to me. Nima had a lot of reasons not to forgive me, but he did. Plus, he’s taken care of me for the last two days.”
Mari carefully placed her air-casted-foot on the ground and nudged her sister. “Start your car, Kat. We’re going now.” Then she grabbed her phone and tapped a quick message to Nima.
Mari: Can we talk? I’m coming over.
Kat lifted her purse from next to the couch and pulled out her keys, aiming the fob over her shoulder toward her parked car. She smiled knowingly as the remote start button beeped and said, “In your sappy Christmas movies, this is where the rancher/baker/prince—”
“Captain of the gingerbread army,” Mari added.
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Mari said without hesitation. She would finish that movie with Nima’s arms wrapped around her.
“Okay . . . Where the rancher/baker/prince/captain of the gingerbread army, etcetera, fights for the love of his heroine.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. I need to talk to Nima now, before he leaves Tseten’s.
” He could be planning to drive to his mother’s house first thing in the morning.
The possibility made Mari break into a sweat.
But she would follow him there too, if she had to.
Though first she’d have to prepare for harsh winter conditions on hundreds of miles of remote highway and convince her sister to drive her.
Kat stood and helped Mari to her feet. “Okay, let’s go get your yeti.”
They donned their winter gear and were soon on the road to Tseten’s house. “Did you message Nima?” Kat asked, stopping her phone's heavy-metal playlist. She switched to Christmas music for Mari’s benefit, then groaned. “Fuck, I’ve been Whammed.”
Mari snickered as Wham!’s “Last Christmas” sounded over the car’s speakers. “Yes, I sent him a text, but I didn’t hear back.” She shot off another quick message.
Mari: Kat’s driving me to Tseten’s. We’re on the road.
Several miles later, Mari’s phone buzzed with an incoming message.
Nima: Are you free the day after Christmas? I’d like to talk to you.
Mari blinked down at the text, confused.
Mari: Did you get my other messages? I want to talk now . . . I hope that’s okay. Kat’s driving me to Tseten’s. We’re almost there.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared, and Mari’s stomach knotted. She ached for Nima. But what if Nima didn’t feel the same for her?
The blood drained from her face. What if he only wanted to talk because he had questions about the divorce paperwork? She was the one who insisted they officially divorce, but the thought of him handing her signed papers now made her nauseous.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. No more “what-ifs.” The moment she saw Nima, she’d risk his rejection and bare her soul.
They encountered little traffic and were soon angling up Anchorage’s Hillside to Tseten’s.
Mari nervously tapped her good foot as his house came into view.
A cozy and welcoming Christmas tree draped in soft-white lights greeted them from his large living room windows.
Hopefully, those vibes extended to Nima as well.
If she were in his shoes, she might not be so openhearted right now.
Kat stopped the car, and Mari scrambled to hoist herself out of the vehicle before she cut the engine.
“Wait for me to help,” Kat called as she quickly strode around the car, but Mari was faster. She grabbed her crutches out of the back and then hobbled toward the house. As she did, the door opened. Her breath caught as Nima’s unmistakable silhouette filled the frame.
Mari would risk her heart and happiness on a second chance with Nima. She could no longer imagine her life without him by her side. Bruised ribs and a sprained ankle be damned, she would get down on her knees to beg him for a do-over, if that’s what it took. There was only one way to find out.