Chapter Twenty-Five
NASH
As they set foot in the small sweet shop, they were taken by the arrangements of handmade chocolates, each with exotic mixes of ingredients like herb and coconut (which didn’t sound so appetizing) or almond hazelnut vanilla (which Nash could have eaten a box of).
“What do you want?” Kiran asked.
“Let’s have the man behind the counter make up a box,” he suggested.
“Do we trust his judgment? What if he chooses something we don’t like?”
“Well, we can take it over to Bryant Park and try them out. It’ll be like chocolate roulette.”
Her eyes twinkled, and Nash beamed at the way he’d put the stars in her eyes.
“What can I get you, sir and madam?” the attendant behind the counter asked.
He was a tall man with browned skin. He was from the West Indies, perhaps, with golden skin and majestic stature. His accent was English, French, and Caribbean all at once—a combination that Nash had never heard but could spend all day listening to. For a moment, he wondered if the man was faking it to sound more illustrious and to match the jazzy tuxedo he was wearing.
“We’ll take a combination of everything. Surprise us with a box of twelve.”
Ordering for the two of them and being allowed that authority was a novelty. He wanted to take care of Kiran, to allow her to think and feel whatever she needed to while he held down the fort and supported her.
Without thinking, his hand moved around her. Nash rested his palm on Kiran’s back.
For once, she didn’t move away or react sharply.
Kiran slid gracefully into the curve of his arm, and he curled her in, loose enough to be comfortable, tight enough to say she was his.
His instinct was sure she was.
As the attendant collected various pieces of chocolate for their custom box, Kiran glanced up at Nash. He’d never seen that expression on her face before—like she fully trusted anything he’d do.
“I’ll be happy to put one in on the house for you two tonight.” This attendant was winning bonus points.
“Thank you!” Kiran’s hands joined together at her chest.
“So much excitement for chocolate…” Nash laughed.
“What would you like, miss?” The attendant’s white gloved hands gestured at the assortment in front of them, not smudged a bit by all the cocoa he was handling.
Kiran hungrily examined all the different types. “What do you suggest?”
“May I empower myself? I would recommend salted caramel peanut butter.”
“Nash? Milk or dark?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does too matter!” She stepped away in mock outrage.
“And why’s that?”
“Because your choice determines whether I let you put your arm around me again!” she sassed back, a hand on her hip.
“If I were you, sir, I would pick,” the man behind the counter chimed in and then mouthed, Milk. This fella was clearly Team Nash.
“All right then. Milk.”
“Good choice,” Kiran observed with a grin.
This time, he won the lottery. She rested her head on his shoulder, and his grip grew a little tighter.
“I don’t mean to interrupt…but are you Indian?” the man asked.
“I am!” Kiran said. That warmth of reminiscence colored her tone, the way it always did when she spoke of home.
“You know, my mother was half-Indian,” he began. “And growing up, she used to tell me of henna and order me sherwanis from the Indian store—which, of course, look the best with a tall figure like this.” He flashed a pose with a head tilt and gestured at his lithe body.
“Indeed, they do.” Kiran laughed.
“Clearly, your mother had style,” Nash chimed in.
It was impossible not to feel cheerful around this man, in this setting, surrounded by sweets, and Nash’s arm around a girl he cared for.
“Well, your culture is beautiful and so are you. Have a glorious night,” the man remarked as he rang them out.
Nash opened the door and guided her out with his hand on the small of Kiran’s back. His eyes darted up at the stars. But he couldn’t make out the twinkles as clearly underneath the bright lights of the skyscrapers around them. The H&M building had a neon-red sign blaring. The Bank of America Tower projected colors into the sky with its bright antenna. Down the street, the Chrysler Building stood out as a landmark of the area they were in.
They crossed the intersection to the park, walking closer than they ever had before. Green metal chairs and tables scattered around the cement ground provided respite where groups of friends gathered. Laughter rang out around the square in the middle of the park.
Nash guided Kiran to a spot in front of the fountain where the sound of water could be heard and Times Square seen at a distance. A beautiful dichotomy existed between the lights of one of the most iconic landmarks in New York and the green expanse and library on the other side of them.
“Okay, well, the ninja attendant over there slipped in a guide so we know what we’re eating if we have questions…but I say we go in blind and take bites and guess. We saw the labels anyway on each plate.” Nash unwrapped the ribbon on the box and opened it, unveiling tightly packed chocolates in different shapes and sizes with patterns etched on some and ridges on others.
“Sounds like a plan. Ready?” Kiran pulled a milk chocolate one out and carefully bit half off.
“And…go!” Nash waited, staring at her in anticipation.
“Oh…” Kiran scrunched her nose, whipping her head around to find a trash can to gracefully spit out the bite she took, but she had no choice.
“Wow, that good, huh?” Nash doubled over in laughter.
“I don’t get to suffer on my own!” Kiran managed and shoved the other half of the little piece into Nash’s open mouth.
“Aww…gross…” His face mirrored hers, the corners of his mouth drooping down to try to taste as little as possible.
Kiran’s giggles were endless at the disgusted expression on his face.
“It’s like…jelly. With basil. And thyme. And coconut. With chocolate.” Nash swallowed with great difficulty and shuddered at the aftertaste.
“Ugh, I can still taste it. It goes all the way to the back of my throat.”
Nash’s mischievous smile made Kiran do a double take.
“Why are you… Nash! Get your head out of the gutter!”
“Hey, you went there too if you caught on that fast.” Nash chuckled.
She went to smack him, and he caught her hand midair.
Neither of them pulled away.
Instead, her fingers found the gaps in his, and their eyes locked as their hands entwined. The world stilled around them.
Nash’s gaze hungrily took in Kiran’s every feature. He lingered on her lips, her prominent cheekbones, her angular eyebrows. Her brown eyes on his blue were cemented in place, and nothing on the planet could have torn him from her. As Nash’s fingers curled around hers, her fingertips sent electric shocks up his wrist and his arms, all the way to his heart. Heat crawled from his toes to his cheeks.
Kiran’s sight dropped to his lips, and hers parted slightly as though she were kissing him midair. His parted too, and he was full of both longing and stubbornness. She inched a little closer, and Nash was drawn to her like a magnet.
“Excuse me, can we borrow this chair?”
An oblivious woman with a kind smile awaited an answer with her hands on the rung of the third chair at their table.
“Go ahead.” Nash’s sourness was unmistakable.
The woman dragged it away, the metal screeching against the pavement.
“Perfect timing, lady,” Kiran muttered so quietly, he barely caught it.
Their hands remained bound despite their stolen moment. Nash hoped an opportunity would present itself when he could feel the same electricity again—it was a high he’d never experienced, having her so close—without her pulling away or making him feel silly for following his instincts.
“Okay…are we trying another?” He reached into the box.
“I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be. I’m going through it with you.” He hadn’t let go of her hand. “Here.” He fed her half of a chocolate before eating the other half.
“Oh. I like this one!”
“Me too!”
They continued their pattern—bite into one and feed the other half. Nash loved the way she lightly kissed his fingers when she stole a bite from him and how she looked as she reached toward his lips. She felt like his. And tonight, he was hers.
“How are your parents?” He brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.
“Good. Spoke to them this morning, and they’re chugging away at life, as usual.”
“And your sister? I know you said you haven’t seen her, but I assume you guys speak.”
There was something about her sister that made Kiran standoffish. Nash had noticed it multiple times—her eyes hardened, or other times, they darted away. It was exactly the same with physical touch until tonight. She’d welcome it, then change tack so quickly, he would be left in stunned silence.
The pause after his mention of her sister was no different than before. It seemed to ensue for hours rather than seconds.
“It’s a long story,” Kiran finally said.
“I’ve got time.”
“Nash… I… This is new for me.”
“What? Talking about her?” He searched her face for any sign of what was to come.
“Talking about her with someone who isn’t Indian. It’s a tough story to understand even for someone who is.”
“Well…try me. I’ll do my best not to be an ignorant ass.” Nash rubbed her hand with his thumb.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “Thank you.”
“So where would you like to start?”
“I haven’t talked to her in twenty years.”
The words hung in the air. Nash was sure he’d misheard her.
“I thought you said the coming and going stopped or something. You…what?”
“I haven’t seen or spoken to my sister in over twenty years.” The second time didn’t lessen the strangled way Kiran said it. If anything, the pain etched on her face grew deeper.
Nash’s instincts began to fire alarm bells, but he couldn’t gauge why. He exhaled, remaining calm, and ignored the nagging prickle at the back of his neck.
“That must be so hard. What happened?”
“I’m afraid if I tell you, I’ll lose you,” she whispered.
Nash’s stomach fell. He desperately hoped she wouldn’t end whatever they were about to start…but he remembered what Brandon had said about finding out her story, understanding her, and letting her in. He had to keep trying.
“You won’t lose me.”
“I–I don’t know all the details. I…we…grew up in a rural village a few hours outside Delhi. It’s run by a panchayat—oh, what am I saying, you won’t know a panchayat.” She closed her eyes and breathed in. “A panchayat is like a village council. India is a democracy, but some small places still rely on justice through these councils. My uncle served as the sarpaanch, or leader of the panchayat. They solved disputes but also could rule on family issues sometimes.
“Kirti, my older sister, started going to college against the judgment of other elders in our family. My dad said she deserved a better life. The college was a small place about an hour away. She met someone there—an officer in the Indian Army. I guess he was a good guy, or so she told my parents, but they didn’t approve. He was a different…lower…caste, and our family wasn’t accepting of that difference.
“Eventually, my parents agreed to the marriage. Kirti was the most beautiful bride. I danced and danced at the reception and even put on a performance of classical dance that Kirti had taught me. My parents put all the money they had into sending her off after the ceremony in grand style. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I’ve guessed. My uncle, the sarpaanch, whispered something to my dad, who got very emotional. They told my sister she wasn’t allowed to come back. I don’t remember much else, except that she cried and cried and held on to my mom until my dad had to separate them. At the time, I thought it was just the vidhaai, the moment the bride leaves her family home—it’s symbolic and usually emotional. But this was different.”
“I don’t understand. Was she kicked out of the family?” Nash asked.
Kiran shook her head. “Because my uncle was the sarpaanch, what Kirti had done was embarrassing to our family…and it reflected on him, so our uncle told my dad that the only choice was to disown her. To tell her never to come back. And she never did.”
“They never reconciled?”
Kiran shook her head. “My uncle died ten years ago. My dad had a heart attack, so I moved my parents to Delhi so they could be closer to some of the resources they needed. But Kirti never knew any of this…and despite the external situation being fixed, my parents were too prideful or heartbroken or something to find out where she was.”
Tears welled up in Kiran’s eyes, and Nash’s heart went out to her.
“Falling in love is a big deal in our family. Parents usually choose who their children should be with. And when Kirti fell in love, it challenged everything. My parents never recovered.”
The puzzle pieces began sliding into place, clicking together as one fact followed another.
“If you date me, you’ll be doing the same thing,” Nash said.
This wasn’t how he’d wanted to bring up dating.
Kiran nodded, staring at their entwined hands. “I thought I’d gotten over losing her. I was only eight, so it’s not like I can remember much anyway. But I’ve thought about her more and more lately. And it’s because of you.”
Nash’s breaths came out quickly and unevenly as he took in her words. She was laying out her fears and trusting him to wade in them with her.
“Nash, you make me happy. Every day, I wake up and think about how much I want to talk to you. Our adventures together bring so much more joy than I ever thought I’d feel. I never thought I’d feel like this about anyone…but I like you.”
In a million years, Nash never would have expected her confession to come like this. He was bitter, angry, thrilled, confused, empowered, uncertain, and swept away, all at once. Her story and her reasoning for holding back were like wounds in a war, each word serving as one more stab from a sword.
A flash of fury swept through him. She should have mentioned it, shouldn’t she? Was it his right to know before she was ready? Neither of them had expected this.
But she liked him. It gave Nash life.
He brushed a solitary tear off her cheek and gazed into her eyes. “You make me really happy.”
Her eyes sparkled through tears, and though her mouth had fallen through the course of her story, she didn’t move away from him.
“What about my parents?” she whispered.
“Maybe time has healed them. Maybe they won’t want to lose another daughter. Let’s see where this goes, and if it comes to the point where we tell them, then we’ll figure it out together. One thing at a time.” Thanks, Kate.
She brightened and sighed with relief, letting tears fall freely as her head tilted forward and a burden had been lifted.
Nash lifted her chin with his finger and wiped her tears away with his other hand. He leaned close to her, his eyes never leaving hers. Her breath tickled his cheek as he came within inches of her lips, and the tingle it sent up his spine drew him in.
They moved together in symphony, as if they were being conducted to make up for lost time—for all the times Nash had thought he had it all and didn’t need anything else. His hands traveled to Kiran’s face, cupping it in his palms, his fingers winding through her wavy hair. Her fingertips stroked his stubble, an intimate gesture that left heightened tingles wherever she touched.
When they pulled apart and Kiran’s enraptured gaze fell on him again, Nash knew his world had changed forever.