That asshole.
No, no, no. The bottles filled with her emotions rattled, her anger threatening to break free, but she restrained them, breathing deep and even.
She wrapped her arms around herself, using the hug Naveen had given her to ground herself. He’d sounded so proud of her.
Your dad gave you hugs after you won games, too. He was proud, as well. That hug didn’t mean anything.
It was the adrenaline. Naveen would cool down soon and remember that she was the one who had lied to him and dragged him into her family mess, and then he’d be distant again. And there’d be zero opportunities for his body to be pressed against hers. Staged or in passion.
Yikes. Definitely, she wasn’t thinking about passion with him, or those long-repressed memories were going to come up again. Like the time they’d been swimming together at her hotel, and she’d gone to clean up. He’d knocked on her door, then slipped inside. The shower, and her. His hands had held her hips firmly while his body slid over her—
She realized she was stroking the soap over her breasts and flushed. The stress is getting to you. Snap out of it. Get back to work.
Mira shut the shower off. Emi had tossed her some extra clothes before offering her the bathroom. As much as she hated to put on her own underwear again now that she was clean, she did, and then yanked on the stretchy joggers and oversize black T-shirt Emi had given her. Well, oversize on Emi. Regular size on her.
She hesitated before depositing her old clothes in the garbage can. Throwing away anything was hard for her, but these garments were all too soiled and carried too many memories now to keep.
A burst of laughter came from the living room and Mira frowned, worried. She couldn’t imagine Naveen and Emi laughing together—both of them had been vaguely wary of each other when they’d met. What else did you tell him, Emi?
She picked up her pace. Emi sat at the desk in the corner, hunched over Mira’s dad’s phone, while Naveen lounged on the couch behind her. “I said I wasn’t interested in monogamy, so this is really her fault for—” Emi glanced up, though Mira was soundless. “Oh, hi, Mira. I was telling Naveen about Janice.”
“Apparently, Janice thought she could change Emi,” Naveen said, thumbing through the hotel magazine on his lap.
“Can you capture the wind, I ask you?” Emi demanded.
Naveen nodded in sympathy. “Rookie move. You gotta take people as you find them.”
Mira tensed. What was that supposed to mean?
It means you’ll always be what your father made you.
Or his words had nothing to do with her.
“Women, am I right?” Emi sighed.
“I’d rather not answer that, thank you.” Naveen tossed the magazine on the table and came to his feet to stretch. Mira tried not to stare at the way his shirt stretched taut over his belly. He relaxed and rested his eyes on her. While he wasn’t still bubbling over with the warmth that had taken him over when he’d swung her around the hallway, his gaze wasn’t as angry as it had been before. Don’t trust it. It’s still the adrenaline. “Emi’s confident she can crack the password.”
Right. The password. The reason they were here.
“Ten more minutes, tops,” Emi said.
“I’m going to go shower, too, if you don’t mind.”
“Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa. Unfortunately, I don’t have any extra clothes that’ll fit you.”
“I don’t mind wearing mine.” He paused. “Can I use the phone?”
Emi lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. It’s on the nightstand. But I’m telling you, man, you gotta kick the screen habit.”
“I’ll work on it on a less stressful night.” As Naveen passed Mira, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash from the poker game and handed it to her. “Here, you can hold on to this.”
She took it automatically, then looked down at it as he walked away. Mira didn’t know what had driven her to push for all the money they were owed, except that she’d been caught up in the moment.
She also didn’t know why Naveen had backed her up on it. Trust me, she’d told him before the game, and she was truly confused that he had.
She tucked the money into her pocket. “I’m surprised you have everything you need here to do this. Are you sure we don’t need to go to your place?”
Emi glanced up from her laptop. Vassar’s phone was face up on the desk, plugged in. “All I ever need is my computer.”
“You don’t want to face Janice.”
Emi wiggled her fingers at her. “Bingo. The desk staff here knows me, they always comp me a couple nights when I need it. There’s some room service left over from lunch, if you want it.”
Mira’s mouth watered. Her last full meal, that gourmet lunch with Jay, seemed ages ago now. If she’d known the adventure she was going to go on, she might have eaten that cake, dairy or not.
The tray was pretty sparse: most of an eggplant parmigiana, half a ham sandwich and some chips, but it looked like heaven to Mira. She shoved a handful of chips in her mouth and came back to the couch with the sandwich. “Thank you for the clothes.”
“Sorry they’re not stylish, but they look better than whatever it was you were wearing before.”
“They feel better, at least. We’ve had a rough night so far.” Back in high school, she would have plopped down on the couch and spilled her guts to Emi, but it had been a long time since high school. “Can I borrow some shoes too?”
“What, your hot-pink flip-flops from some rando diner aren’t giving you good arch support?”
Emi was even sharper than she’d been as a teenager, it seemed. “It’s a long story.”
“I bet it is. You going to tell it to me?”
Mira concentrated on polishing her sandwich off. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m guessing if your dad’s involved, it’s got to be something wild.” It wasn’t an insult. Emi sounded almost admiring.
Mira heard the shower in the bathroom go on, which freed her to speak. “My father was nothing if not exciting.” Excitement she could do without.
“I remember. I saw him a few times over the years. He told me you two didn’t talk much since you left town.”
Mira shrugged and ate another bite of her sandwich. That her dad had been more in touch with her ex–best friend than with either of his daughters was extremely on brand for the man.
“I understand you cutting your dad off, of course. He shouldn’t have had a literal kid mixed up in his work. That was fucked up.”
Mira tried not to go about chasing validation, but she got so little of it when it came to shutting out her family—not even from her aunt—that she absorbed it like a sponge. “You thought he was cool then.” It had given Mira instant cred with the wild Emi, that her dad was a conman, their home a den of thieves.
“Because I was young and sick of bagging groceries at my parents’ store. Here was your dad, talking about getting rich quick. It was seductive.”
Mira swallowed, her sandwich tasting like ashes. “I’m sorry he led you down that path.”
Emi shoved her long black hair over her shoulder. “Ah. So it was guilt that bailed me out.”