by Mona Shroff
His family had been lovely to her, and Annika couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so comfortable around people she’d only just met—it certainly hadn’t been this way with Steven’s family.
A giggle from Naya’s room grabbed her attention. When was the last time she heard Naya giggle? Annika crept toward her door, which was slightly ajar. Another giggle. Annika knocked.
“I’m on the phone. Come in,” Naya called. Annika slowly pushed open the door to find Naya FaceTiming. As soon as Naya caught her eye, she motioned for Annika to come in.
“Ravi, I’ll be there in an hour. Promise.” After another giggle and what Annika could have sworn was a kissy-face (or two), Naya tapped her phone off and glanced shyly at Annika.
“Don’t tell your parents or mine.”
Annika rolled her eyes. “That you’re spending the night at your boyfriend’s? Naya, most women our age do.”
“You know they’ll flip out. It’s not ‘what we do.’” Naya did a perfect accent and head bob. “Especially after—never mind.” She waved her hand and looked away from Annika.
“Especially after what happened with me, you were going to say.”
Naya lowered her head, sheepish. “Yes, but I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant...”
“Uh-huh.”
“I just mean your parents might be pressuring you to get married, but the whole situation has my parents freaking out a bit, too.”
“But you’re the ‘good one.’” Annika made the air quotes. “They should know that by now.”
Naya set her lips in a stern line and placed her hands firmly on Annika’s shoulders. “You’re not bad. I’m not good. We just are who we are.”
“You know what I mean. I seem to consistently do things that cause my parents anxiety.” Ignoring warning signs.
“You have to live your life, Annika. You’re a great teacher—”
“You know that doesn’t really matter to them.” Annika waved it off; she was done with this conversation.
“So, where were you all day?” Naya didn’t wait for an answer. “Let me guess, out with a certain tall, dark and handsome?”
Annika froze. How had Naya known she was out with Daniel?
“How is dear Sajan?” Naya dragged out Sajan’s name in that singsong-y way they used to when they were kids.
Oh.
“You weren’t out with Sajan?”
“Um, no.” She didn’t feel like explaining who it was, so she turned and headed for her room.
“Then who was it?” Naya had followed her.
“No one.”
“‘No one’ left awfully quickly.”
“We’re just friends, and he had somewhere to be.” Annika shrugged and entered her room. Again, Naya followed. This woman had no boundaries.
“So why won’t you tell me who it—” She pointed a finger at Annika. “This is someone you like.” She narrowed her eyes and gasped, shaking her finger at her. “You were out with that nurse, from the bar, and you were dancing with him last weekend. What was his name? Daniel! You were out with that Daniel, weren’t you?”
It sounded scarily like an accusation, but hadn’t Naya been the one to tell her to go for it?
“He’s a nurse practitioner,” Annika defended him. “And everyone was dancing.” She defended herself.
“Yeah, but who knew that he could garba like that? And he couldn’t take his eyes off you.” Naya’s eyes widened. “But what about Sajan?”
“What about him? He’s nice, but—”
“Weren’t you at the wedding? Everyone was talking about what a great couple you two would make.”
“Who is everyone?”
“Your parents. And mine.”
Annika raised her eyebrows.
“And maybe his,” Naya added.
“What? I never said—I didn’t do—I really hate the gossip thing.” Annika flopped down onto her bed.
“I knew it—you were out with Daniel!”
“What if I was?”
“I thought he was a stalker or something?”
“He’s not. In fact, he’s very, very...” Sweet. Kind. Sexy. Distracted by his ex-wife. Weird aversion to his nephew. What was she doing? Sajan was sweet and kind and handsome by anyone’s standards. He didn’t come with secrets, or ex-wives, or weird bourbon issues. He’d grown up like she did—he would get her—like Naya and Ravi.
But Daniel did understand her.
Her parents already liked Sajan.
“Annika? Hellooo? Annika?” Naya was waving her hand in front of Annika’s face. “Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere. How’s Ravi?” Just as she’d hoped, Naya’s eyes got all dreamy, and she forgot about lecturing Annika.
“He’s awesome.” But then she snapped her gaze to Annika. “Nice try. But we’re talking about you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not seeing either of them right now.” It was true, nothing had really happened with Sajan, and Daniel was...complicated.
“Your dad will pitch a fit if you try to date Daniel.” Naya had her arms folded across her body.
“Why do you say that? He was perfectly civil at the wedding.”
“Well, yeah. You weren’t dating him then. Trust me, Sajan will be easier. And better in the long run. No big cultural divide. Remember, Steven’s one redeeming quality was that he was a lawyer. Daniel is an NP, not going to help.” She raised her eyebrows at Annika. “Where did dear Daniel run off to anyway?”
“He went to see his ex-wife.” The words fell out of her mouth before she could filter them. She could have told Naya that Daniel was part Indian, but that really shouldn’t make a difference.
“He’s divorced?” Naya said it like it was a bad word.
Annika shrugged. “So?”
“So get out before you get in too deep. You’ll never sell him to your parents. Especially not after Steven.”
That could be true. Naya had a compelling argument. After all the drama with Steven, Sajan would be...comfortable, easy. He was a good man. Her feelings for him would grow. Just like her father said.
Daniel offered more questions than answers. Her parents’ imminent disapproval rang in her ears. Her attraction to Daniel aside, it didn’t really make any sense for her to get more involved with him with all these mysteries surrounding him. It was as if she was being given fair warning about trouble ahead.
Too bad her heart did a rapid fire every time she thought of Daniel.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DANIEL
DANIEL MOUNTED HIS bike and drove away from Annika, his body heavy with regret. Every part of him had longed to kiss her, but if he had, he’d still be up there with her. And he couldn’t bail on Sheila. She asked for very little.
Annika had been completely comfortable around his family. By the time they’d left, she had even succeeded in getting a smile from his dad, when she told the story about how a child had cut a chunk of her hair when she was an intern. She had simply offered the left-handed boy a pair of left-handed scissors.
“What happened when you told the parents?” his father had asked.
Annika had shaken her head, tossing those gorgeous curls. “Well, it turns out that the parents were trying to get him to do everything right-handed. They were trying to get him to be something he wasn’t. So, when I asked him to use the left-handed scissors, he was confused.”
His mother had smiled at her. “And he cut your hair.”
Annika had shrugged. She had hit a nerve and was completely unaware. His father had gone quiet. It didn’t matter. Ned Bliant could not understand why his son was unable to let go of the past and move forward. “That’s what men do, son. You take care of your wife. Pay the bills, work overtime, cook if you need to. Men don’t wallow in themselves. Just take care of business. You’ll be fin
e soon enough.”
His father would never forgive him for divorcing Sheila, even though it had been Sheila’s idea. Somehow, Ned saw the divorce as Daniel shirking his responsibilities. And that was just as unforgivable as being in pain.
Daniel shook thoughts of his father from his mind. He had to focus on the task at hand. Sheila’s text was perplexing. They had parted amiably, if not quite friends, and Daniel had even attended her wedding. Jim was a good guy, and he treated Sheila well. In fact, under different circumstances, he and Jim might have been friends. There was no ill will between him and his ex-wife, just the shared bond of belonging to a club no one really wanted to be a part of. Stranger things had bonded people together.
They certainly did not hang out together. He knew it was hard for Sheila to look at him. Sara had had his smile, with both dimples. Hell, there were days he couldn’t look in the mirror. Basically, Daniel tried not to force her to see him.
He pulled into the older neighborhood, the acrid, sweet scent of burning leaves taking him back to a time of what should have been domestic bliss. Anger swelled in his chest as he thought about how all that was ripped away from him because someone with a vendetta had access to a gun.
He parked in front of his old house and sat on his bike, listening to trash cans being dragged to the curb, whistles calling dogs back in and the low chatter of neighbors conversing as they passed one another. The mundane sounds of a life he would never have again. He breathed deeply of the cool autumn air and calmed his anger before trying to face Sheila.
They’d argued about gun control, as well. At the time, Sheila was too wounded to feel the outrage, but outrage was all Daniel allowed himself to feel.
He took in the small home he had shared with his little family. A small front porch, carport at the side, small front yard with the same azaleas he’d planted. Someone was doing the upkeep: everything looked neat and in its place.
For some reason, Sheila had kept the house, even though Sara had lived in it. Or maybe she kept it because Sara had lived in it. Maybe the house was how she hung on to Sara.
Daniel stared straight ahead and focused on the door even as dread grew steadily in his stomach. He approached the door purposefully, putting one foot in front of the other, taking in the chipped white paint, the grain of the wood, the weight of the door knocker. The house seemed to close in around him, reminding him that a beautiful little girl used to live here, and that she didn’t anymore. The less he saw, the better. He picked up the door knocker, letting it fall with a squeak and thud. He could almost hear her little feet rush to open the door.
“It’s open.” Daniel heard Sheila call from inside. He turned the knob and forced himself to step into a house that was no longer his.
The familiar smell hit him first. It was a mixture of whatever had been made for dinner last night and whatever candle Sheila had burned after. But Daniel swore that Sara’s scent still clung to the air. Maybe he imagined it, but what did that matter? “Hey, Sheila. It’s me.”
“In the kitchen, Daniel.”
Daniel stood in his old foyer. The house was small. A starter house, their agent had called it. Something they would grow out of one day. He hadn’t thought they’d grow out of it in quite the way they had.
Everything was all at once familiar and strange. The little bench they used to keep for Sara to put on her shoes was no longer there. In its place was a mat. A set of men’s running shoes was neatly placed in the middle. They would be Jim’s.
Out of habit, he slipped off his shoes and placed them next to Jim’s, taking small, hesitant steps toward the kitchen. “How’s Jim? He’s not home?”
Sheila sat at a small dining table, surrounded by papers. “He’s fine. He’s at a conference this weekend. Come on in, Daniel. I have coffee.” She moved aside a few stacks. “Sorry, I have to get these charts done before surgery tomorrow.”
“What do you have?” He sat down across from her.
“Back-to-back-to-back cataracts.” She smiled. She and Daniel had always loved talking about medicine. Jim was an ophthalmologist, as well. Daniel could only assume their conversations were interesting. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure.”
Sheila locked eyes with him as she stood. Daniel understood in that instant why she had called him. He clenched his jaw as blood rushed to his head and his ears pounded.
“You’re pregnant.” He spit the accusation out from in between his teeth, unable to even open his mouth. He grazed over her swollen belly with an experienced eye. “Like, five, six months.”
Sheila swallowed hard and went to fetch the coffee. Her hand shook as she placed the mug in front him. “Yes. I’m due end of March. I wanted to tell you in person.” She looked down at him, blue eyes hesitant.
Daniel’s grip around his coffee mug became dangerous for the ceramic. The heat from the liquid pressed into his hands. This was what she had wanted. A couple of years after Sara died, Sheila started talking about having another baby. Daniel had been beside himself. There was no way to replace Sara. She was one of a kind. You couldn’t have another child like you got another puppy.
Sheila had insisted that she wasn’t replacing Sara, just moving forward, but Daniel had remained adamant. No more children.
“I guess you got what you wanted.” Daniel’s voice was harsh.
“I was hoping you would be happy. A child is...”
“You can’t replace Sara,” Daniel growled.
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m not trying to replace her. No one could ever replace our angel...”
“Damn right.” Daniel slammed down the mug, sloshing coffee onto the table, splashing her charts. He stood so abruptly he nearly knocked over his chair. He turned and headed for the door.
“Daniel.” Sheila grabbed his arm to stop him. “Daniel, we were going to ask you to be the baby’s godfather.”
“You—what?” He shook his head, threw his hands up in the air and then down again, violently. “I’m no one’s father anymore!” His voice was harsher than he’d intended, but the thought of being anyone’s any kind of father—no. He couldn’t do it. “And I never will be.”
“Fine. But you need to find a way to deal with this.” She swallowed hard.
“I deal with it,” he snapped.
“By what? Working twenty hours a day? Drinking?”
“I haven’t had a drink since before we divorced. You know that.”
Her gaze faltered a bit. “That doesn’t mean you’ve dealt with this.”
“Listen, just because you married Mr. Stable and forgot about Sara, doesn’t mean that I have to.”
“Forgot? How dare you?” Sheila was almost growling. “She was my daughter, too. I lost her the same as you. You think I don’t think about her every day? That I don’t miss her? Every. Damn. Day?” Her voice cracked and her eyes refilled with tears.
“I don’t know, Sheila, you tell me. You’re the one having a replacement baby.” He regretted the words the instant he said them, but the wound on her face told him he could never take it back.
“Get out.” Her calm was more threatening than any scream could be. “Get out, you bastard, and don’t come back.”
Daniel stormed toward the door, stepped into his shoes and left, slamming the door behind him, not looking back.
He tore out of the neighborhood on his bike and stopped at the first liquor store he found.
Daniel parked his bike, grabbed the brown bag and took off his helmet. Someone was exiting the building, so he didn’t have to buzz up and risk rejection. His brain whirred with images of Sara and Sheila, and his ears echoed with Sheila’s guttural “Get out!” Maybe he was out of line, but he couldn’t accept her replacing their daughter. And he certainly wouldn’t be anyone’s godfather. He just couldn’t.
He found his way back up to the apartment. If he could get in this easily, he was
going to have a word with Annika about her personal security. He found the door he wanted and knocked before he lost his nerve. “Annika. It’s Daniel.”
She cracked open the door and peeked out, and just the sight of those brown eyes calmed his breathing some. She closed the door and unlatched the chain, and it seemed a year before Daniel could see her eyes again.
“Hey... Daniel.” She eyed him with trepidation as he walked past her as if he lived there.
“Can I have two glasses, please?” He was brusque and he knew it, but his breath was short and his mind would not settle.
She opened a cabinet, pulled out two short tumblers and set them in front of him. He set down his helmet as the weight of her gaze bore through him. Undaunted, he opened the bourbon and poured them each two fingers.
“What’s going on, Daniel?” There was no anger in her voice, but her tone demanded an answer.
He raised his glass to her and waited until she did the same. He took a gulp of his bourbon and enjoyed the burn as it flowed through his body and warmed him. Annika’s mouth gaped open.
“Sheila’s having another baby.” He said it as if that explained everything, then turned to examine his surroundings. They were standing between her small kitchen and the dining area, the bourbon bottle resting on the high granite countertop that was large enough to serve as a breakfast bar. The small dining room was open to the adjoining family room. In the back of the family room, an open door led to a bedroom. A small statue of Ganesha stood on the counter. Remover of obstacles, ha. Obstacles were never removed—only added.
Annika sipped her drink. “Your ex-wife is having a baby, so you’re drinking?” She narrowed her eyes, her gaze penetrating. “Are you still in love with her?”
“No.” He had the presence of mind to catch the worry in her voice. “That’s not the problem.”
“Okay, Daniel. What’s the problem?”
He gulped down his drink, poured another. Some might call it liquid courage, but it was never that for him. It was more like liquid memories. His muscles relaxed. Even his mind calmed a bit. He focused on those brown eyes as if they were his lifeline. Where to begin? “She’s having a replacement baby.”
