Three dots emerged and disappeared multiple times. Not having the patience for that, I pressed on.
‘Look, Graham. No amount of apologizing can make me forget what happened. I don’t trust you. I never will. I’m with someone else, and I’m getting married in a few months. So, kindly, fuck off.’
‘u pregnant?’
I gripped my phone so hard I thought the screen would crack. ‘No im not fucking pregnant you asshole!!! and its none of ur business if I was’
‘then why the rush?’
I owed him nothing, least of all an explanation. Then, why did my face feel so hot? Why was my pulse racing?
He texted again. ‘its less than a year from when we broke up and ur getting married already. Becky I know you want to get married but you can’t replace me with someone else. u know we were on that path til I fucked it all up and I will always regret that but u know in ur heart ur supposed to be with me’
Angry tears began forming. ‘I don’t have time for this. Don’t contact me again.’
I blocked him like I should have done months ago. Miranda had been right. Of course, she was. Talking to Graham didn’t give me closure. All it did was reopen an old wound I’d been trying so hard to heal and move past.
I looked back at my computer screen with its images of sarees and henna and wasn’t in the mood anymore. Closing it, I stared into my wine glass. Graham was an asshole. But… maybe he had a point. Maybe Miranda had had a point, too.
On his own, Dev was everything I could have ever dreamed of. But he didn’t come on his own. He came with traditions and cultural expectations, and a family who
hadn’t expected an atheist, white daughter-in-law to move into their house and raise their grandchildren.
I looked down at my ring. The type of ring someone would expect any woman to vie for. The type of ring that would have suited almost any woman. Except me.
Maybe Dev didn’t know me as well as I thought he did.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The engagement present Dev had promised me? It was a 3D printer. He had someone truck it to my apartment, and then, when it didn’t fit in my already crowded living room, we brought it back to the kitchen, where my tiny Ikea table was shoved to the side.
Dev, hands on his hips, proud look on his face, clearly thought he was a genius. “Now you can build your prototype!”
Great. I was thrilled.
“Thank you. This is really thoughtful. I mean it. But my place isn’t quite big enough for it. And I’m not sure if I’m ready to be building prototypes,” I tried to explain, hoping there was a way to turn his gift down without causing offence.
“You showed me what you had so far and it looked really promising. My dad’s been asking about it. His business partners are intrigued and were hoping you could pitch them the idea in a few weeks. I thought a working, scaled-down model would entice them. So, you can print it on this and show them exactly what their money’s going towards.”
My stomach did a flip.
“Besides,” he continued, “I could have brought the printer to my place and put it in the garage for you, but I wanted it here to remind you to work on it in your spare time.”
“Spare time? I have a wedding to plan for!”
“No, you don’t. It’s all planned. Relax!” He closed the space between us, which wasn’t much now that half my kitchen was taken up by that ridiculous machine. “Rebecca. You know how you told me to follow my dreams? To forge my own path? This is me returning the favor. Knowing you go to work every day at a job you don’t love but need to pay the bills, it doesn’t feel right. I really believe you’re on to something special here. All you need a little push to make it happen.”
He kissed my forehead, and I melted, as usual. He could get away with anything, kissing me like that.
I looked up at him and, very genuinely, thanked him for his gift. Then we celebrated—in bed.
###
At Miranda’s request, we were doing things a little backwards. Usually the bachelorette party is right before the wedding, but Miranda was worried none of her sexy dresses would fit her if we waited any longer. I didn’t see a difference in her body type, but I also hadn’t seen her naked since college, and my memories of that drunken skinny-dipping event were hazy at best.
From what I could gather, Miranda and Angelina had been fighting over what to do about my bachelorette party and had come up with a happy middle ground to which I was not privy to. All I knew was we were staying overnight in Whistler.
I took the Skytrain as far as it would go and bussed the rest of the way up to North Vancouver, where Miranda picked me up with Angelina in the back seat.