Chapter 42 #2
The desk and second screen she’s talking about have lain untouched for nearly a year.
“Lots of wives would be upset at how much time you spent working on this, but I always loved to see how your eyes came to life. And it was never at my expense, or at the kids’ expense, either. I always loved you so much for that.”
I stare at the laptop without grabbing it, feeling its cool surface permeate through the fabric of my jeans.
“I know,” I say simply.
It’s the truth.
I knew this was a part of me Rachel adored.
And I let it die anyway.
“Karan.” Rachel places a hand on my thigh, near the laptop. “It’s not too late for you to pursue this.”
“There’s no time,” I argue. “I’ll have to get another job, and job hunting alone is going to be a hell of a ride.”
I look at her and soften my expression.
“And the rest of the time I have, I want to spend it with you.”
Rachel cocks her head sideways and sighs at my comment.
“And I appreciate that so much, Karan. But that’s not what I meant.” She touches the laptop again. “I meant pursue this professionally. Start your own studio. Apply for grants. The whole thing.”
My heart skips a beat, then starts hammering against my chest. It takes longer for my brain to process what Rachel is suggesting, and when it does, the words are out of my mouth faster than I can anticipate:
“No. Rachel, no.”
“Why not?”
“I… I can’t.”
I pick up the laptop and set it aside, then grab both of Rachel’s hands. The moment Rachel told me she was pregnant all those years ago was the moment I knew it was already too late for this, and things haven’t changed.
“I’ll be on minimum wage for at least a year, probably more.”
There’s a government grant for business owners in the creative media sector that provides us with mentorship and a minimum wage, but that doesn’t cover additional wages for other team members I’ll need. And getting additional grants can take years.
“There’s no guarantee I could ever make enough to get the kids through college. No… I’ll just get another job in the game industry. Not in software…” I squeeze her hands. “I promise.”
“Karan.” Rachel’s brow furrows. “No. You’ve given up every opportunity you had to achieve your dream, because of me.”
“It wasn’t because of yo—”
“It was.” She bites her lip. “I was the one who told you to take the Ubisoft job.”
“It was a sensible decision.” One my parents would have made, even if the games industry isn’t one they respect. “It was a good decision.”
“It wasn’t your decision, though. I took that choice away from you.” Rachel leans closer to me. “But what if you had the chance to pursue what you want, for once?”
I look away. Allow myself, just for a moment, to dream.
“That… would be wonderful.”
My heart leaps at the thought of having my own studio. Pursuing my own vision.
The thought withers and dies as quickly as it came to life.
“But it’s too big a risk.”
“It’s really not,” Rachel argues. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. We could sell the condo and move to the South Shore, off the isla—”
“Rache—”
She places a finger on my lip. “Shush. Hear me out, please.”
I sigh, not daring to truly hope yet, and nod.
“This place is worth a ton more than what we paid for it, and it’s in a prime area,” she continues. “There’s no need for us to live right here. On the South Shore, we’ll still be close to our family…”
Her voice trails off as she seemingly remembers that we won’t be talking to my family anytime soon.
“I’ll be close to Will and Océan—”
“Océane? Isn’t she living with us?”
“Will’s going to take her.” My eyes go wide, but Rachel continues. “I know you were okay with it, but I should never have made that decision without you.”
“Rachel…”
“So, the South Shore, or somewhere similar. I can find a job in another pharmacy. In case you’ve forgotten, Karan, I make a shit ton of money, too. You’re not the sole provider. It’s not all on your shoulders.”
Her thumb traces circles against my hand.
“With a much smaller mortgage and our savings, we’ll have more than enough of a cushion for you to pursue this project.
You can even do freelance work if it makes you feel better, to help make ends meet; Logan can help you out with that and show you where to find gigs, or connect you with the right people. ”
The vision starts to form in my head. This goes against every instinct in my body.
Before we had Cayce and Corey, I’ll admit, I did have the drive to make this a reality.
But everything changed once I knew I was going to be a father.
My responsibility to them as a provider came before everything else.
My chance for my dream had passed. I would have to wait at least two or three decades, and even then, would I still have the energy and drive left?
But what Rachel is proposing… it could work.
In theory.
But it could also fail spectacularly.
And the cost of that failure…
“Rachel, we could lose everything.” I press my forehead against hers, trying to hold myself together.
Part of me is trying so hard to keep the small breath of hope that she gave me alive.
The rest of me wants to smother it before it grows too large. Too uncontrollable.
“If I fail, if it never works out…”
Rachel weaves a hand behind my neck, tangling her fingers in the loose hairs of my nape. “We’ll deal with it together.”
I draw in a ragged breath.
“It’s time to put what you want first,” she continues, holding me close.
“You chose to fight for me, Karan. Now I’m choosing to do the same for you.
It’s just like you said in Newfoundland.
It’s us against the world. So let me fight for you, Karan.
Let me do this for you, when you’ve already done so much for me. ”
Do I dare to let myself hope? With her holding me like this, I feel safer than I ever have.
The weight of all my fears…
The crushing pressure of the responsibility, the expectations that I could never truly live up to…
The gnawing doubt that I could ever make this work…
They’re still there.
But for the first time in years, I allow something else to shine through:
A flicker of possibility.
A spark of the man I used to be—the one who can dream without limits.
I exhale, my breath shaking, and press my lips to hers.
Rachel melts into me and tightens her fingers in my hair, her body leaning into mine as if she’s trying to fuse us together. And just like that, the dam breaks.
We kiss with everything we’ve been holding back since those days alone at the A-frame cabin. My ribs ache from the pressure of it, my throat tight with the weight of everything unsaid. Her lips are warm, and oh so soft, but my hands are shaking, my pulse thundering in my ears like a storm.
There’s salt on her skin, salt on mine, the taste of tears that I’ve finally let loose mixing with the bitter tang of tea still clinging to her mouth. My chest is too full, too tight, like I’ve been holding my breath for years and only now remember how to exhale.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails biting through fabric. Her heartbeat slams against my own ribs, fast and uneven, like a bird trapped in a cage. My own breath comes in ragged bursts against her mouth, my lungs burning, my skin too hot, too alive. Every touch is a spark.
Her palm against my jaw.
Her thighs tightening around my waist.
The way her breath hitches when I press her closer.
And when she sobs against my mouth, I do too, because there is no other way out.
“Okay,” I gasp when I pull my mouth away from hers for just a moment.
“Okay?”
I’m terrified, and I hold on to her for dear life. I stand, lifting her with me. Her legs wrap around my waist as her arms lock around my neck.
“Rachel,” I groan against her neck. “Thank you.”
I slowly make my way to the bedroom, kissing along her jaw, the crook of her neck, that spot behind her neck that she likes.
“Thank you.”
“I love you so much, Karan.” Her breath comes in little gasps against my kisses along her skin.
When we reach our bedroom, I place her down on the bed carefully. We undress each other slowly, reverently, and each little sound of fabric rustling, my belt unlatching, sends a hot shock through my spine.
I’ve never needed her more than I do at this moment.
Rachel’s skin is so warm and soft under my hands, even softer than I remember from a week or so ago—or maybe I’ve only forgotten what it feels like to touch her, to savour her, without the weight of the world pressing down between us.
The silk of her thighs against mine as I settle between them sends a shudder through me, not just desire but something deeper, something aching and sweet.
I pause and rest my forehead against hers. “Rachel.”
The sole act of saying her name is enough. It says all I need her to know.
“Karan.” She lifts her hips, pressing into me, and the heat of her is too much, too perfect.
And then I’m sinking deep into her, slowly, letting her adjust to me. But she’s already there, meeting me, her body arching up to take me deeper. The sound she makes—soft, broken—unravels something in my chest.
I bury my face in her neck and revel in the sensation of her legs tightening around me, her heels digging into my back, the warmth and friction of her so exquisite. The groan that escapes me elicits a moan from her.
She’s so responsive. Has always been. But in this moment, it means so much more.
It means everything.
I lose myself in the rhythm of her, in how achingly good she feels. With every thrust, a part of me heals. With every gasp from Rachel’s lips, I become a little more whole.
Her breath comes in sharp little gasps against my ear, her fingers digging into my shoulders like she's trying to crawl inside my skin. The way her body tightens around me, the way her hips rise to meet mine, is my salvation.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her collarbone, my lips brushing her silk-like skin as I weave a hand in between us, touching her exactly where she needs it. “I’ve got you, Rachel. Come for me, baby.”
Her back arches off the bed as the first wave hits her, her nails raking down my back as her body clenches around me.
The sound she makes—fuck, that sound, my name torn from her throat—shatters something inside me.
I sense her pulse against me, feel her body trembling as the orgasm rolls through her, and white-hot pleasure sears right through me.
I come with a groan that sounds like her name, my forehead pressed to hers as my body locks up. I can hardly breathe, even as we’re both coming down from this high.
Yet I’ve never felt more alive.
Rachel just gave me a gift I didn’t know to ask for. Now, with her in my arms, the scent of the two of us lingering in the air, I’m whole. There’s still a gaping hole where my parents used to be, but for now, this has got to be enough.
It will be more than enough.