Page 36 of Adrift

“Darian,” I whisper against his neck, “it wasn’t your fault.”

He’s quiet for a moment and I wonder if maybe he didn’t hear me. “But I feel culpable for it, just the same. Jude, Sonia . . .” he trails off. “I’m the only one answerable for them, the only one who survived when they didn’t.”

I lean back, my palms finding his face as I bore into his pain-stricken eyes. “No. You’re not answerable for any of it, and you’re not culpable, either. You were simply just there, Darian.” A tear drops from my eyes and I watch him track it. “And no one should have to carry that weight around like you do.” I slide my hand down to his chest, feeling it twitch under my palm, but keeping it steady over his heart. His skin is warm as his heart thuds under my fingertips. “No one is strong enough to carry that around . . . not even you. None of it was your fault.”

His eyes skim over my face, landing unwaveringly on my lips as the weight of the moment between us holds us hostage. It beckons me to close the distance and cross the chasm. And when I don’t, his gaze slides up to mine, where he sees all the questions, all the reservations that mirror his own.

I close my lids, taking a moment to compose myself before stepping back and releasing him from my hold. He lets me walk away but I turn back to him right as I get to the stairs, remembering a thought that’s been swimming in the back of my mind. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, his face completely devoid of the emotion that was there just seconds ago, and his hands once again rest at his sides.

“The note inside the bouquet . . .. You’d written you were sorry.”

His head tilts up, waiting for me to finish my thought, but I don’t miss the slight resolve in his stance.

“Why?” My eyes search his. “What were you apologizing for? I’m the one who made you feel uncomfortable that night in Arman’s room. Why were you the one apologizing?”

“For making you think you could ever make me feel uncomfortable, Rani. Because the only thing I feel around you is unhinged.”

Chapter Thirteen

Darian

I button up Arman’s pants, snapping the suspenders over his short-sleeved, white button-down. It’s an outfit that’s been hanging in his closet for over a year, received as a gift from someone when Emily threw Sonia’s baby shower.

Arman bends over on his changing table to pick up the precious teether he dropped, and I pull him into my arms to head downstairs. We’re both as ready as we’re going to be for Greg’s surprise birthday party.

I’m midway down the stairs when the doorbell rings. I sigh, knowing who it’s going to be but holding back my visible disdain. Rani’s feet shuffle above us as she bounds down the stairs as well. Both Arman and I look up at her, taking in her strapless, black frilled dress that has some sort of lacy fabric on the top. It accentuates her figure, but I’m not sure how I feel about her baring all that skin on her shoulders and décolletage.

The fuck, though? It’s just a first date. Do women get this dolled up on their first date? Especially when the date is with a clown? I clench my jaw to refrain from saying anything because I don’t want to tell her she looks beautiful. Or that I’m intrigued by her damn shimmery gold eyeshadow and the miles upon miles of luminous skin. Or that I wish she wasn’t going.

Instead I opt for, “Looks like Ronald is here.”

She tilts her head and squints at me. “Darian.”

Right. Like using my fucking name as a reprimand will stop me from wanting to shove my fist into Ginger Boy’s face.

I unlock the door as she approaches, holding out her hands toward Arman. He willingly jumps to her, hitting her head with his teether a couple of times. She pulls down his arm and pretends to give him a chastising glare, making him giggle.

“Hey!” Ronald says as soon as I fling the door open, giving me a tight nod and smile. His eyes quickly find Rani before they glide back to me. He juts out his hand. “I’m Liam. Rani’s told me a lot about you.”

I consider not taking his hand. I almost consider breaking his wrist, but then I’d probably get another scornful lecture from my nineteen-year-old sister-in-law and have one more thing to apologize for. So, to avoid all that drama, I grasp his hand firmly in mine before turning around and walking away. He already said she told him a lot about me, so why introduce myself? Seems like a waste of energy to me.

I’m sure they both gaped at me momentarily, but I leave them to chat before heading toward the kitchen in search of a drink. Maybe I’ll have a finger of the whiskey my brothers brought over last weekend. Something to take the fucking edge off.

Their hushed conversation in the foyer makes its way to my ears, and I don’t miss the hesitation in the lanky kid’s voice. Okay, so maybe I was a little rude–I’m sure Rani will express her disapproval of my behavior later–but I have no interest in befriending the guy.

Whatever. I’m an asshole. I’m over it.

“I’m going to leave him in the living room with his toys.” Rani indicates to my son before flicking her gaze toward me to see if I’m listening. “Bye, little man.” She kisses him on the cheek before wiping her lipstick or lipgloss or whatever off him. “Be good for your dad at the party. Don’t drink too much.” She giggles at him before straightening up and surveying the glass in my hand with a frown.

She turns to her date just as I turn to the kitchen island. “I’ll meet you in the car. Can you give me a second?”

“Yeah, no problem.” I hear the door shut before the telltale sound of her footsteps behind me. Of course, I pretend not to notice. I’m too busy clutching the edge of the marble countertop with my free hand.

“Hey, are you sure you’ll be okay with Arman on your own at the party?”

I swivel to face her with the glass of whiskey in my hand. Her eyes flick back to the glass. She’s as surprised as I am. I don’t generally consume alcohol or anything unnecessary for my body. Sure, I’ll have the occasional beer with my brothers, but it’s rare for me to consume anything stronger.

---