Page 96 of Adrift

Chapter Thirty-Four

Darian

I hear the front door open and shut, knowing it’s Rani. After washing Arman’s sippy-cups, I dry my hands on the towel and turn expectantly toward the foyer.

She’s been out almost all weekend at either the nursing home or at a coffee shop, working on my website and her blog. But I can’t relinquish the doubt that churns my gut, making me feel like she’s avoiding me. She came home late last night–well past when I was asleep–and slept in her own room. I thought we had an unspoken understanding ever since that first night we were together that we’d always sleep in the same room.

And then she was gone this morning before I woke up. I texted her earlier this afternoon, and she messaged me back saying she’s working from the coffee shop.

Is it just me or does history seem to be repeating itself? She did the same thing when she first moved in with me–avoided me for an entire weekend, and then again when we were at Mom and Dad’s house for dinner.

Oh, hell no, we’re not going backward!

She puts her keys in the bowl on the table in the foyer and glances at me with a forced smile, her face the mood ring she’s always admitted it to be. She twists her mouth this way and that before she takes a step toward the stairs. “I’m going to head to bed. I’ve just had a long weekend.”

“Rani.” I stop her before she takes the first step. “What’s wrong?”

She looks down, her forehead creasing between her brows. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

I clench my jaw. “I get that this is your thing–avoiding me when you’re pissed or unsettled about something–but I’m not a mind-reader, Rani. I need you to verbalize what I’ve done because I won’t know what I did wrong until you tell me. I know all too well what it’s like when lack of communication tears up a relationship, and I don’t want a repeat of that again.” I watch her shoulders slump and I soften my voice. “We aren’t going to make it very far in a long-distance relationship if you don’t talk to me, sweetheart.”

Her eyes snap up. “Are we even going to make it past this summer, Darian?” She lifts her arms, letting them fall back to her sides. “Because all I can see is today. I can’t see into tomorrow. I can’t see into next week or even next month. So I don’t know; I’m just not sure what to say to you when I don’t know where your head is and I’m about to leave in three weeks.”

I throw the towel on the counter and take a step toward her. I’m so confused, I can’t tell if we’re even in the same relationship–which, to me, is a relationship full of love and admiration. Because those are the only things I feel for her. I’m fucking crazy–no, insane–about her. I’ve said as much, haven’t I? I told her I was all-in with this. So the question is, where did we go amiss?

“What do you mean, you don’t know where my head is? What do you mean, are we going to make it past this summer?”

She crosses her arms over her chest defiantly, but it’s not her stance I’m observing, it’s her hurt expression and that look of fear and uncertainty in her eyes. It punches me in the gut. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about anything, like what happens when my time here ends? I have an option to transfer credits to the college nearby and–”

“You have an option to move here?” I reel back in complete shock. A–I didn’t even know there was an option for her to study journalism nearby, and B–I didn’t think she’d want to upend her life for me with two years left in college. I wholeheartedly expected that we’d continue to meet as often as we could until she graduated.

And that’s the crux of the problem. That’s where I fucking messed up.

I told her I wasn’t a mind-reader and here I was, expecting her to be one.

“Yes. I’d have to submit my transfer request soon, but–”

I suck in a sharp breath but it does nothing to appease the constriction in my chest. “You’d do that for me?”

She lets her arms back down to her sides and closes the distance between us. Taking both my hands in hers, she peers into my eyes. “Dar, I would do anything for you. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

I stare at her, baffled. How in God’s name is she mine? “I guess sometimes I just don’t believe it.”

Her lips tug up. “Well, believe it, Mr. Meyer, because I love you.”

I lean down to kiss her, pulling her closer by her waist and taking a whiff of her delicious lily scent. “I love you so fucking much, my Rani,” I mumble over her mouth. “I’m sorry I was such a dumbass. But I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“When you get pissed at me–because let’s face it, I’m going to mess up again–don’t ghost me. I can’t fucking deal with it. Talk to me, tell me I’m being a jackass, throw something at me, but don’t avoid me. Don’t make it look like it’s easy to be without me, because I can’t stand a second without you.”

Her eyes glisten and she tightens her hold over my neck. “I hurt you.”

I stare at her, watching her lashes get wet. “You have no idea of the power you have.”

“I do now, and I promise to be better about talking to you when I’m upset.” She swallows. “I’ll be here until you don’t want me to be.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me forever, sweetheart, because I’ll always want you.” I grind the guy that’s been twitching in my pants over the course of this conversation against her. “Like right now.”

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