Page 2 of Adrift

A dinner that led to a year of dinners and wedding vows taken selfishly in private. A dinner that set fire to every bridge in her life. A dinner that had cost her her family.

And I was culpable for it.

I unlock her phone using the same passcode she’s had over the past ten years–her sister’s birthday–and scroll down her contacts list until I find the name I’m looking for. A name–a title–she no longer used after marrying me.

Mom.

My finger hovers over the call button before a cough rumbles through me, inciting another wave of tears. How am I going to tell them? No matter how estranged Sonia and her mom are, no parent can endure such a phone call.

Before I can press the button to make the inevitable phone call, my own phone buzzes inside my pocket. It’s been vibrating nonstop with congratulatory texts from my brothers and our team at the ski school. I’d sent them a picture of the three of us–me, Sonia, and Arman–smiling into the camera right after Arman was born last night.

Who would have thought that would be the last picture I’d ever take of us together?

I run a hand through my hair before pulling out my phone.

Garrett: Yo, bro! What’s the latest? How’s my nephew! When can I come see him? How’s Sonia?

Feeling the contents of my stomach rush up my throat, I toss my phone onto the chair and race to the toilet in the en-suite bathroom. Tears spring back to my eyes as I cough into the bowl, but I’m not sure if they’re ones inspired by the vomit or the ones I’d been stowing away to use later.

I rinse my face and mouth in the sink before finding my way back to the chair next to Sonia. I unlock her phone again before clenching my eyes shut for a few seconds and taking in a deep breath.

My heart hammers inside my chest, almost drowning out the ringing of the phone against my ear. And when the click registers, we both wait for a moment–breathing loudly–for the other to speak.

There’s no denying the surprise in her mother’s voice when she finally breaks the silence. “Sonia?”

I swallow the sob threatening to erupt from me again. “Mrs. Shah, this is . . . this is Sonia’s husband, Darian. We haven’t spoken in a while, but I . . . I have bad news.”

Chapter One

Rani

Present

“Girl, look at you! You look scrumptious.” Melody pulls the side of my bikini bottom before releasing it with a snap on my skin, making me yelp.

She comes to stand next to me in front of the full-length mirror while I rub the spot on my hip that’s now stinging. We’re both wearing light gray, long-sleeved rash guards, given to us by our instructor, that display the words Truckee Sports with different colored bikini bottoms we’d brought from home.

As of a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have worn something so body-hugging–even if it was to get into the water–or shown the sliver of my midriff currently on display. But, I’ve come to appreciate my curves and my not-so-flat stomach. They make me who I am.

Who gives a shit that I’m not a size six or eight? At least I’m healthy and can enjoy food without feeling guilty–or starving myself for days afterward as punishment for my overindulgence. At least I can live life without burdening myself with calorie counting or constantly checking my weight.

I mean, to hell with that noise. Who needs it?

If this past year has taught me anything, it’s to let go of the superficial bullshit I’ve ladened myself with for so long and to start living. Really living. Because who knows what life has in store and which breath will be your last? And if you’ve spent the last nineteen years of your life worried about what others think, then you’ve effectively given those nineteen years to them, haven’t you?

Well, fuck that and fuck them. I won’t be giving away another precious minute to assholes who make me feel shitty about myself. I’m content with everything I am and everything I’m capable of; I’m content to just be living.

I suppose loss can put a lot into perspective

“I don’t know about scrumptious,” I say, turning to glimpse how my ass looks in my new red bikini bottoms. “But I’m happy with the way these fit.”

“Good! Now, let’s go before we miss our damn class because we were too busy checking ourselves out in the locker room mirror.” Melody giggles, her bright smile lighting up against her ebony skin.

I pull on the life vest the instructor gave us before following my best friend out the door, admiring her waist-length box braids. With her long and lean legs, tiny waist, and sharp features, she could be Zoe Kravitz and Tyra Banks’ love child, if it were anatomically possible.

She’s been my ride-or-die since Ruby Mallory shoved me on the playground in third grade before calling me “Queen Piggy.” Yeah, ten points for originality there, Ruby. Melody had stepped in and pulled me to my feet before she shoved her tight fist under Ruby’s chin and told her that if she ever bothered me again, she’d let the entire school know that she saw Ruby pick her nose and eat the ‘biggest booger in the history of mankind.’

And while I didn’t know my best friend well at the time, I did know that no one questioned Melody Matthews. If she said the sky was green with lavender polka dots, then it might as well have been written in stone.

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