Page 65 of Isn't It Obvious?
“Oh,” she says. Stupidly, she thinks of Kevin and Mia. It’s like a fingernail under the edge of a fresh scab, so she changesthe subject. “I still have to get on my tiptoes to reach the top shelf.”
He frowns for a moment, a crease cutting between his brows, as though lost by her segue. When he gets there, he rubs his hand over his chin, chuckling. “You’re still arguing about this?”
“It’s true,” she says, and she grabs a book to demonstrate.
“Ah,” Ravi says. “But, as you can see, the step stool isn’t about to topple over.”
“The chair wasn’t, either,” Yael says, stubborn.
“The wobbling begged to differ.”
She steps down, pretending to go for one of the chairs. “I’ll show you.”
“Please don’t,” Ravi says, stepping toward her. The look on his face is so stern, she can’t help but laugh.
“I’m joking,” she says.
His shoulders sag in relief. “Good.”
Yael cocks her head to the side, observing him. “You seem to care a lot about this.”
He narrows his eyes. “Am I meant to wish you bodily harm?”
“Last week, Leo asked me if there was something wrong between us,” she says. Another non sequitur, but this time Ravi follows along just fine. “Is there?”
He gives her a long look, eventually breaking eye contact for one quick sweep of his gaze over her body, and she clenches her thighs to stay stable. “You tell me,” he says. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“So have you,” Yael counters.
“So have I,” he agrees. “I thought you’d want me to.”
I want a lot of things, and that isn’t one of them, she thinks. “I don’t want there to be anything wrong between us,” she says.
“There isn’t,” Ravi says simply.
“You’re good for this club,” Yael finds herself saying without really meaning to.
He smiles. “See you Thursday, Yael,” he says.
Devastating.
SURESH SHAKESRAVIawake before his alarm goes off—he wasn’t supposed to be on morning duty today. Sleepily, he props himself up on one arm. “Hmm?”
“Mia have pink eye.”
“Daddy, it’s itchy!” she shrieks, and that’s when Ravi locates her at the foot of the bed. One of her eyes is puffy and bloodshot.
“I know, sweetie, but you can’t touch it.”
Ravi grimaces sympathetically. “Need me to take her to urgent care?”
“I called the nurse on call at her normal doctor; they can fit her in around ten thirty. I can drive back to take her, but she not allowed at day care until five days after she starts the antibiotics. You could watch her?”
“This weekend? Of course.”
“No, just today,” Suresh says.
Ravi pushes a quick breath through his nose. “She not allowed at preschool, but you’ll take her to wine country?”
