Page 88 of Adrift

Dad seems to process what I’ve said for a few long seconds before I visibly see him relax. He nods, slowly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

I swallow, looking at Mom and then back at my dad. “And Dad . . ..” I glance at Bella and she smiles back at me, likely knowing what I’m about to say. I suppose when someone has known you for so long, they start to read your mind even before your thoughts have fully formed. “I’m with Darian now.”

My dad’s brows lift. “With him?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m in love with him. I want to be with him.”

My dad regards my mom, but when he sees that she does nothing but stare back at him with her version of a small smile, he turns back to me. He seems to think about how he’s going to respond. “Some say love is blind, but I say our heart always has a way of finding the one it was made for.” His mouth tightens, and I can see he’s holding back his emotions. “I’m proud of you, Rani. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become.”

My nose tingles as tears linger inside my lids. “Thank you, Dad,” I whisper, leaning in to give him a kiss on his temple.

* * *

The doorbell rings, and I leave the cucumber I was slicing on the chopping board. “I’ll go see who it is.”

“Okay.” My mom stirs some seasoning into the soup she’s making.

Dad was discharged from the hospital this afternoon, and since then, there have been a few deliveries for him of flowers and care baskets. I’ve been taking all of them to the guest room downstairs where he’s been resting.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and open the door, seeing a man holding a huge bouquet of burgundy lilies and blush-colored roses.

“Delivery for a Rani Shah?” The man peeks at me from behind the massive vase in his arms.

I press my lips together, fighting my urge to squeal like a little kid. It’s Friday, and there’s only one man who remembers to give me flowers on Fridays–even if I’m three-hours away. “That’s me.”

The delivery man hands me the flowers and I close the door, trying to make my way up the stairs to read the note sticking out above the bouquet.

“Rani? Who was it?” My mom comes out of the kitchen, examining the flowers in my arms. “Oh, wow, those are beautiful. Who sent those for Dad?”

I clear my throat. “They’re not for Dad . . . they’re for me.”

She stares at me for a moment before she turns back to the kitchen. I could swear I saw a smile on her face. “Well, go on then. I know you’ll want to call him.”

I dash up to my room as fast as I can, holding the behemoth of all vases and praying I don’t drop it. I set the vase on my nightstand and my room immediately fills with the delicious scent from the fragrant lilies. I pull out the card from its perch inside the bouquet, my lips already turning up, not even having read what it says.

But I’m pretty sure they’ll be set in a permanent smile after this.

These flowers have become the couriers of my most important messages.

I love you, too, my Rani. So fucking much.

-Dar

Chapter Thirty-One

Darian

Garrett: Good morning, shitheads. Poker night tonight?

Me: Can’t.

Garrett: Why the fuck not? You waxing your pubes or some shit?

Dean: His sister-nanny is coming back today. He’s getting all dolled-up for her.

Such assholes. I roll my eyes, refusing to respond. So what if I am a little preoccupied with the fact that my girl comes back to me tonight? Three days without her has felt like a fucking era.

We’ve only been able to chat here and there over the past couple of nights, and I’m fucking dying to kiss her, hold her, and have her come on my lips.

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