They laughed.
Ajay sobered. “You’re…beautiful, Jiya. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”
There was no flop in her belly. No tingle in her chest. Nothing. But she smiled anyway. “Thank you.” She rolled her lips together. “This is way premature, but…let’s say your wife wanted to fly. In her spare time as a hobby.”
“Fly what? An airplane?”
“Yes.”
He stroked a hand down his jaw. “Um, well I guess I wouldn’t have a problem with it once in a while, but once we had children, I would probably ask her nicely to stop.” He winced. “It’s pretty dangerous.”
“Yeah.” Her smile remained spackled to her face, but her brief surge of optimism waned. She’d already downgraded her desire to fly professionally to a mere hobby, but even that had sounded outlandish. Not just to Ajay, but to her own ears. Did she really think she’d have time to fly a plane and run a restaurant on the side? Have a family?
Get your head out of the clouds, Jiya.
Look where having her head in the clouds had gotten her. In love with a man who didn’t love her in return. She wasn’t going to give up this opportunity to make something out of her life just to fly a plane. That was ridiculous. As ridiculous as falling for her unavailable best friend.
Jiya ignored the painful tug in her middle and squared her shoulders. “I think we should see each other again.”
Ajay’s face brightened. “How does tomorrow sound?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Andrew knew something was up the moment he saw Jamie’s face.
It was late afternoon on Wednesday and they’d just wrapped their lifeguard shifts. Andrew stood behind the mostly quiet bar, cutting limes and lemons for garnish. Rory was in the back office working on payroll. Andrew was only going to help his brothers get through the rush, then he needed to get moving. His life of crime started tonight.
A hysterical laugh worked its way up his throat but came out sounding more like a gasp. He’d been like this since Friday morning. Exhausted, kind of delirious. No longer giving a fuck. If he thought too much about who he was agreeing to become, he felt sick, so he focused on what mattered. Keeping Jiya safe. Keeping his family away from the situation with Handler.
Keep moving.
Keeping working.
Don’t think too hard.
Don’t think too hard about her.
The knife sliced into his finger and he watched the blood well in a kind of detached way, enjoying the pain a little too much. It didn’t dull the agony in his chest, but it shifted the focus for a minute and he appreciated that.
Jamie grabbed Andrew’s hand and wrapped a napkin around the cut. “You’re bleeding all over the bar.”
“What was your face about when you came in here?” Andrew asked numbly.
His brother’s hands paused in the act of cleaning up the mess. “What?”
“Your face.” Jesus, he sounded like his father. “Just tell me what it is.”
Jamie was still. So still. “I ran into Jiya on the boardwalk.” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, A. I can’t believe it happened so fast, but…she’s engaged.”
A knife rammed into his stomach and carved out his insides, one by one. Jamie’s mouth was still moving, but nothing could pierce the howling in Andrew’s ears. He was slapped in the face by a million unwanted images. Jiya dressed for her wedding. Being carried over the threshold of a house. Holding her newborn baby in the delivery room, tired and elated. He wasn’t in any of the visions. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Kill me now. If he picked up one of the liquor bottles, smashed it and used the edges on himself, how long would it take to be over? “Why would you be sorry?” he gasped. “That’s great news.”
“Andrew, give me a fucking break.” Jamie put his arms around Andrew and squeezed, but Andrew couldn’t feel a thing. “You look like you’re dying. You feel like it, too. When is the last time you ate something?”
Who cares? He wanted to shout. If his vocal cords worked.
“What the hell is going on?” Rory asked, coming out of the back room, his step faltering behind the bar. “What is it?”
Jamie stepped back from Andrew. “Jiya is engaged.”
“Wha—to who?”
“We haven’t met him,” Jamie supplied quietly. “The son of a family friend.”
“Don’t tell me his name,” Andrew said quickly. He did not want to think of her name alongside a specific moniker. Ever. Nor could he be positive he wouldn’t track the guy down and kick his ass.
Rory came forward hesitantly, seeming to choose the right words. “Hey, man. Don’t worry. It’s got to be like a rebound thing.”
Andrew looked at Rory like he was insane. “Rebound from what?”
Jamie and Rory traded a glance. “You weren’t exactly quiet last Thursday night,” Jamie supplied. “Like, we’re surprised no one called the cops. Or that the foundation of the house didn’t crack in half.”