Page 29 of Adrift

“You’re quite the welcome interruption.” Another unfamiliar man to Darian’s right speaks before I can make my getaway. His toothy grin and dark eyes remind me of the big bad wolf from Red Riding Hood. And not in a good way. “I’m Ryan, one of Darian and your sister’s friends.”

I nod, not knowing what more to say.

“God, I see the similarities between you and her. The same eyes, the same nose. I’m, uh . . .” he clears his throat, “I’m sorry for your loss, Rani. I know you both weren’t in each other’s lives for quite a while–”

“Ryan.” Darian’s voice sounds steely, a warning laced in his name.

Ryan chuckles as if caught red-handed. “What I meant to say is, Sonia and I were pretty close.” He looks at Darian, whose shoulders seem stiffer compared to the brief glance I snuck toward him earlier. “I mean, my ex-wife Emily and Sonia were closer, of course, but over the years, we’d all become good friends.” He pauses, grinning as if he’s waiting for me to catch the punchline of a joke. “Anyway, I don’t mean to dampen your mood. I just didn’t want to waste a chance to introduce myself to such a beautiful woman. Want to join us in a game of Texas Hold‘em?”

I offer him a tight smile. “No, thank you. I don’t know how to play, plus I’m pretty tired. It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too.” His eyes trail down my neck and over my breasts before they flit back to my face, and a shudder runs down my spine like acid on my skin. “Hope to see you around again, Rani.”

As much as I’ve been avoiding Darian, my eyes can’t help but seek him out. I don’t know if he caught his friend’s leering, but his jaw is clenched tight, nonetheless. You’d think he was working on crushing rocks between his teeth. Other than that, his face is a blank mask.

Feeling queasy, I dash up the stairs, hoping to rid my mind and skin of Ryan’s unwanted attention. God, some men just know how to give a girl the heebie-jeebies.

Tiptoeing past Arman’s room, I walk down the hallway to my own. My attention gets caught on a vase full of light pink lilies at my door. I know exactly who left them, but I still can’t help dart my eyes left and right as if maybe I missed the deliverer.

Picking up the vase and opening my door, I pluck the small card attached to them. I head inside before closing the door behind me and place the vase on my chest of drawers. I smile at the fresh blooms as I’d just thrown out the old lilies yesterday on my way out.

My heart pitter-patters inside my chest, and I can’t quite reason as to why. Why is a vase of flowers–seemingly here to replace the old ones in my room–constricting my airway? Why are my hands trembling as I pull the small card out of its envelope? Why are my lips turning up at the corners, as if knowing–hoping–that this bouquet is a peace offering? A peace offering for what, exactly?

Turning the card around, I stare at the simple handwritten words, knowing they declare anything but simple thoughts.

I’m sorry.

Chapter Eleven

Darian

“King!” Olivia waves at me from one of the supply closets. “The stuff you ordered for the tournament came in today. Come, check it out.”

The better part of my morning has been spent negotiating contracts with a well-known sporting goods retailer who would like to showcase Truckee Sports as their preferred kayaking and skiing instruction partner. While my school has many business partners, this one is definitely the most lucrative in terms of future growth due to the retailer’s brand value. So, as tiring as the call was, I know it’s one that will help expand our market footprint.

Sighing, I run my hand through my hair and turn to face Olivia. “Let me get some Vitamin Water from the kitchenette, and I’ll meet you there.”

A few minutes later, I’m examining the marketing material–banners, poster boards, and pamphlets–I’d ordered for the tournament that will be held at my school in a little over a month.

“The posters look amazing, huh?” Olivia’s eyes gleam through her red-rimmed glasses. She doesn’t generally wear them but when she does, her eyes always look twice as big. “And look at these stickers and pamphlets! You and Greg did a great job putting these together, King.”

I nod, liking the result of what seemed like a million hours of work last month. “Thanks. Yeah, it turned out great. Let’s find an hour to discuss other logistics for that day.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get some time set up for us.” Olivia closes the closet door right as I start walking away. Unfortunately for me, she catches up to me quickly. “So, how are things going with the nanny?”

I squint at her. “The nanny? You mean, my sister-in-law, who is helping me for the summer?”

Olivia shrugs with a high-pitched laugh. “Potato, tomato. How is she?”

“All good, can’t complain.”

Actually I can complain, but I won’t. Not to anyone. Because my complaints barely make any sense to me, so revealing them to anyone else would just make them think I was a whack job. Which is precisely what I’m turning into.

For example, my complaint with my sister-in-law’s silver fucking eyeliner and shiny lip gloss. Why? Why did I loathe the way they highlighted two of her best features? When I caught myself staring at her pouty, glossed lips as she sang to my son in her raspy, whispered voice made me want to jump out of a high-rise.

I hated that I even thought about her full lips. I didn’t need to. Just as I didn’t need to think about the damn low V-neck, black T-shirt she wore this morning as she pulled Arman from my arms so I could go to work. I got an eyeful of the tops of her heavy breasts, and I swear, I almost dropped my kid in the process of handing him over.

Why the hell did I even notice her breasts?

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