by Alisha Rai
“I got the time.”
He hadn’t really been eager to get another tattoo, but now the idea was in his head, he couldn’t get it out. Besides, a Livvy Kane original was nothing to laugh at. “Let’s do it.”
“Follow me.”
Within minutes, he had his shirt off and was ensconced in Livvy’s chair. “You trust me to freehand it?” she asked, fiddling with her tools.
“Yeah.”
“Why a rose?”
He thought of Sadia. That dress, that corsage. “No reason.”
She finished whatever she needed to do and moved over to his shoulder, touching the palm frond there. “What’s this for?”
He shrugged.
She looked over his half sleeve critically. “It’s cool that you were able to replicate Daddy’s tat so well.” She tapped the tattoo on his shoulder. “A rose would look good over this, I could work it in really nicely, but if you want it somewhere else . . .”
“No. Do whatever you want.”
Pure giddiness crossed her face. “Oooh, hooray, magic words. Okay, lay back.”
He closed his eyes while she prepped his skin, not budging even when the needle started entering his skin.
“So you’re helping Sadia?”
“Yeah.”
“She still hasn’t found a chef yet, huh?”
“No.” Two men had applied. He’d reviewed both resumes, then thrown them in the trash. Sadia had been out, so she didn’t know.
It wasn’t that he was deliberately keeping qualified staff from her. They’d both been inexperienced, amateur cooks. He wasn’t about to waste her time or the goodwill he’d built with the customers. If someone competent applied, he’d happily pass them along.
“How about Kareem? Isn’t he a cutie?”
Yes, damn it. The kid was cuter than a fucking button. “Yeah.”
Livvy cleared her throat. “Feel free to elaborate on any response.”
He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to distract you.”
“I can talk and be super competent at my job.”
But he could barely talk.
“I didn’t even know you were a chef.”
“I am.” Elaborate. “I do pop-up restaurants.”
“What kind of food?”
“Comfort food.” He hadn’t even known that was a category of food. Ariel handled most of the branding for their operation, and it fit what he cooked. Hearty, simple, hot meals inspired by places all over the world. Fancy foodies flocked in, but normal everyday people liked what he made too.
“Well now, that’s super cool. When you gonna cook for me?”
He had a kitchen now. He could cook for his sister. “Whenever you want.”
She kept her gaze down. “Nice. And where are you staying again?” she asked, far too casually.
He narrowed his eyes. “You know I’m staying at Sadia’s place. Or you wouldn’t have asked.”
“She might have mentioned it.”
Ah-ha. He’d always been able to read his twin. “What else did she mention?”
“Nothing.”
Too quick. “Tell me.”
“No. I’m not getting in between you and her.”
So Livvy knew there was something going on between him and Sadia. His cheeks heated. He wanted to get up and walk right out, but there was a needle driving into his skin. “What did she say?”
“Nuh-uh. Not. Talking.” She gave him a stern look. “We aren’t in high school. If you want to know what’s on her mind, you ask her.”
He’d wanted to, damn it. He’d spent all morning at the café treating her to his clumsy heavy-handed wooing. He’d cooked for her. Hovered around her. Even spoken to her. Why couldn’t that be enough?
Livvy’s expression softened, but she didn’t shift her focus from her work. He was impressed with her multi-tasking capability. When he cooked, he didn’t really want to register anything else in the world.
“I’m a little worried about you, Jackson,” she said.
“Don’t be.”
“I don’t want you hurt.”
“I won’t be.”
She was silent for a long time, the tattoo machine the only sound. He was lulled into a false sense of complacency, which she shattered with a single sentence. “Are you in love with her?”
He opened his eyes. “Yes.”
“And what if she doesn’t love you back?”
His heart seized. Sadia had said something to her. “Now you have to tell me. Did she say she doesn’t love me?”
She pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head so her bright blue bun wobbled. “But she did say she’s not looking for a long-term relationship right now.”
Jackson stared at Livvy, expressionless. He had not honestly thought as far as a relationship. He barely knew how to love someone. He wasn’t even sure he could sustain a relationship.
From all signs, though, Sadia wasn’t averse to a short-term relationship. Could he have her temporarily? His gut screamed no, but his practical side shrugged. If he could have her at all, he would take her. A week with Sadia would be worth a year with any other woman. “Thanks for telling me.”
Her forehead creased. “I’m worried about you, brother.”
“Don’t be.”
“I think you need a support system, like I did.”
“I do not need a support system.” No one had ever taken care of him. He definitely didn’t need them to start when he was in his thirties.
“It’s kind of nice to have. I know I feel better with you here. To see you and hear you and touch you . . . it’s like a dream come true.”
He shifted his feet. He wasn’t anyone’s dream, not at all. “Yeah.” He should have figured out some way to meet up with Livvy over all these years. He’d come back to the States every now and again, but not for long. “Uh, same.”
She beamed up at him. “I love you too.”
He grunted. “Yes. Good.” Another reason he wasn’t sure if he could have a relationship. He could barely admit he loved Sadia to himself. Surely women wanted that sort of thing verbalized, yes?
“Have you seen Maile or Mom?”
“Yes. It was fine,” he lied. “Mom and I were civil. It was good to see Maile again.”
“I’m surprised our aunt’s not hanging around you like a necklace.”
“I think she’s giving me space.”
“Hmm.” She continued her work on his shoulder. “Will you come with me to Paul’s grave?”
Oof. The twists and turns of Livvy’s thoughts had never used to feel quite so painful. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I have to make my peace with never making my peace with him, so to speak.” Her words tripped over each other on their way out. “I haven’t been to his grave since his funeral. I should go.”
“You can go.”
“Jackson—”
“No, I don’t think so. I can’t.”
Can’t or won’t?
Maybe both.
Not all memories were created equal. It was one thing to face his past when it came to John or Maile or Sadia or even his mother, but he couldn’t think about Paul. If he thought about Paul, he’d have to think about that confession that was sitting on his nightstand, tucked away in that journal, and he wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet, maybe not ever.
“Okay. No pressure.” She continued working on him. She had a gentle touch.
“Thanks.”
“Anything for you.”
Jackson looked away, unable to hide his emotions. His heart flared, the black and white turning bright and colorful. Anything for you. Just like he’d do anything for her.
He still didn’t think he needed a support system, but she was right. Knowing she was in his corner was pretty fucking amazing.
Chapter 16
After her talk with Livvy, Sadia found herself glancing at Jackson’s apartment far too many times. Finally, she bundled her son up and came to the café. The ti
me after-hours was ideal to get some paperwork done, and Kareem loved having the run of the empty business. He could actually wander around and not get scolded for poking around the kitchen or the office or the front.
Plus, she needed to do all the work she hadn’t gotten to today while Jackson had been hovering around her feeding her.
That had been the plan, but it had been compromised. Sadia glanced around the table. She’d made the mistake of telling Noor where she was when her older sister had called. The next thing she’d known, Noor and Zara had shown up on the doorstep. Noor had tossed Kareem her phone, and he was ensconced in another booth, playing with whatever games she kept on there.
They said they were here to discuss their parents’ anniversary party, but Sadia was suspicious. There was no need for them to have not brought Jia and Ayesha unless . . .
Noor leaned forward, her hands cradling her mug of tea. Her lightly draped shawl brushed the table. “We need to talk about Jia.”
Sadia inwardly groaned. “What’s to talk about?”
Noor huffed. “This ridiculous idea she has about dropping out of medical school.”
In the midst of her own tumultuous life, Sadia had almost forgotten her vow to help Jia. She’d reviewed the girl’s finances, and she honestly saw no reason for her sister not to follow her dreams. The girl was raking in cash with her YouTube videos, way more than Sadia had expected, and she had a solid five- and ten-year plan.
Sadia tapped her planner. Clearly, no one cared about her list, and she was going to have to be the one who dealt with the tiny details remaining for the party, but whatever. This was a great opportunity to fulfill her promise to advocate for her sister. “Do you know how much she’s earning?” Sadia rattled the numbers off from memory.
That made Zara pause. “Wait, you can earn that much showing people how to paint their faces and put on a hijab?”
Good thing Jia wasn’t there, or she would have hissed at that description. “She’s a personality. People like her. She has plans for a book deal, modeling, acting.”
“Whoa.” Zara frowned, considering all of this. Mostly the money, probably.
“It’s nice she’s earning that much now, but we all know how fleeting this stuff is,” Noor said sternly. “I won’t have my sister bankrupt at thirty because she put all of her eggs in the Internet basket.”
Sadia’s eye twitched. She’d considered filing bankruptcy in the early days after Paul’s death. It was still an option on the table. She didn’t need to wonder how her family would view that. “It’s not all her eggs. It’s what she loves to do.”
“She can do stuff she loves in her free time.”
Sadia rubbed her hand over her face. “How much free time do you have, Noor? What about you, Zara? What hobbies do you have?”
Both her older sisters drew up tall like outraged crows. “We have tons of hobbies,” Zara said. “We’re just busy with our careers and our children.”
“And if Jia has a family like you two, she’ll have to put her hobbies on the back burner.” Sadia spread her hands in front of her. “She’s twenty-four years old. Let her have a couple of years. If she hates it or if it tanks, she can always go back to medical school.”
“I suppose leaving wouldn’t stop her from going back,” Zara conceded.
Noor scowled at Zara. “You’re not seriously buying into this madness?”
Zara tapped her manicured fingers on the table. She must have come straight from work, because she still wore an elegant black pantsuit and a lavender blouse. A pair of chic sunglasses were perched on her head, holding her hair back. “She’s earning a lot of money. More than us.”
“It’s not about the money. What will people say?”
“Who cares?” Sadia said with more bite than she intended. But honestly, who cared? “She’s a grown woman. Let her be happy.”
“Mom and Daddy won’t support this. I’m trying to save her that pain. You know firsthand how Mom reacts when she doesn’t support something, Sadia.” Noor gave her a pointed look.
“Yeah,” Sadia said slowly. “I know exactly how she would react. I also know she probably wouldn’t have reacted that way if either of you had stood up for me back then.”
Whoa. She wasn’t sure which one of them was most surprised by her saying that.
Zara recovered first. She removed her sunglasses and placed them on the table. Psychiatrist that she was, she adopted her most soothing tone. “Sadia, are you blaming us for how Mom and Daddy reacted to you dropping out of school?”
Her first instinct was to smooth everything over, make them forget what she’d said. She glanced over at Kareem sitting in the furthest booth, but he was absorbed in the phone and out of earshot of their conversation. “Not blaming you, no.”
“I don’t know what you think we could have done,” Noor huffed. She was visibly annoyed. “We told you to wait to marry Paul and finish school.”
“Right, well, telling me I shouldn’t have done the thing I got cut off for isn’t really supporting me.”
“You weren’t cut off. I mean, of course, Mom and Daddy weren’t going to financially support you after marriage, but—”
“I didn’t care about the money.”
The financial part had hurt the least. It had been difficult to go from having money to living paycheck to paycheck, but that had been a harder transition for Paul than her.
No, it had been the rest of it that had killed a part of her soul. For someone who craved and needed family, like her, it had been hell to be at odds with her parents like that. “I couldn’t come to dinner. I couldn’t stop by and have coffee with Mom. I couldn’t . . .” She waved her hands over her planner. “I couldn’t plan anniversary parties.”
Noor drew herself up. “You made the decision not to do all those things, Sadia. Mom and Daddy never told you that you couldn’t come back to the house.”
“You don’t have to formally disown a child to make them unwelcome in their own home. How would you feel if you brought Rohan home and everyone ignored or scowled at him instead of welcoming him? Paul was my husband.” Sadia shook her head. Now that she’d opened this can of worms, she couldn’t stop herself. “Yes, I was rash. Eloping with him was probably the most reckless thing I ever did, and the fact that I was doing it at all should have made it clear how badly I wanted it and how sure I was that I loved him.”
“You’re blaming us for our parent’s actions,” Zara said, her tone gentle. “That’s not fair.”
“No, I’m blaming you for not being my big sisters.” She closed her journal with a shaking hand. “All you had to do was support my decisions, even if you didn’t agree with them. That’s what we’re going to do for Jia. We’re going to support her and be happy for her and console her if it fails, and we’re not going to tell her we told you so or—” She cut herself off before she said too much about her own marriage and her fears. “Or at least I’m going to. You two can do whatever you want.”
“Okay.” Zara fiddled with her earring. “Things are getting heated here. Why don’t we all take a time—”
“I don’t need a time-out. I’ve said what I need to say. I’ll handle all the details for the party. You can go home.” Sadia came to her feet, just as the front door to the café opened.
Three sets of eyes darted there, and Sadia mentally sighed. This was really shitty timing on Jackson’s part.
Or maybe it was perfect timing? She was so mad, she could probably handle this really assertively right now.
Jackson came inside and closed the door behind him quietly. His eyes met hers, and she caught the flare of surprise and consternation there. He took a step back, but then his gaze swept over the booth, and back to her. His shoulders squared, like he was bracing himself.
He walked toward the booth and nodded at her older sisters. “Noor. Zara. Good to see you.”
“Jackson?” Noor said finally. “What . . . what a surprise.”
“Yeah. Sorry for coming in so late. I didn’t thi
nk anyone would be here.” He shifted the bag in his hands. “I came in to try a new recipe.”
“Try a new recipe?”
Jackson was silent, and she realized he was waiting for her to answer. “Jackson’s been working here for the past couple of weeks. Rick left. I needed him. He’s staying at my home too.” She kept her explanation short and to the point. Sadia nodded at Jackson. “Feel free to come in whenever. It’s your place as much as it is mine.”
He studied her for a minute and nodded. “This bag is getting heavy,” said the man who looked like he could easily bench-press cars. “I’ll get out of your way.”
He walked away but then slowed as he noted Kareem’s presence in the booth closest to the kitchen. He paused in front of him. Kareem beamed. “Hey.”
“Hi. Do you want to help me in the kitchen?” he asked gruffly.
Kareem put Noor’s phone down and looked at Sadia for permission. Sadia cleared her throat. “You can help him.”
Her son brightened and scrambled out of the booth, pausing only to drop Noor’s phone off on their table, before running behind Jackson.
As soon as the two were out of earshot, Sadia whirled on her sisters before they could speak. “Yes, I know he was arrested for arson. He was never convicted. He’s innocent.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Noor exclaimed.
“You were thinking it.”
To her credit, Noor looked guilty. “Maybe. Sadia, let’s talk.”
“I can’t.” Sadia fisted her hands together. “You need to leave. We need to think about all of this. Or rather, you do, if you don’t see why I’m so upset.”
Her older sisters did, at the least, look chastened and regretful, but not enough.
She shut and locked the door behind them. She should go to the office and calm down first, but the smells and noises coming out of the kitchen were so intriguing, she followed her nose.
Her spirits lifted as soon as she walked in. Kareem was standing at Jackson’s side on a step stool, a massive apron tied around his waist. His face was already covered with a streak of white, and he was carefully grating a block of cheese under Jackson’s watchful eye.
By the way Kareem was chattering, one would think he’d known his uncle forever. “And then the girl said she wouldn’t go to school ’cause she was sick, but she wasn’t sick—she was faking.”
