I gave her a soft smile. Jay. I was thinking that I’d rather be snuggled on the couch with Jay debating TV shows.
Easing off the high barstool, I said, “I’m thinking we should call it a night.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jay
It was Saturday night, and Rohan’s bachelor party meant being treated to luxurious shaves and treatments.
We had dinner at an upscale restaurant, made toasts, and relaxed. Rohan was a happy, happy man with a lovely bride, and he couldn’t stop smiling. His joy was most definitely contagious and took my mind off Dad’s death for those couple of hours.
“Whoa!” Rohan sat back and read a text. “Reema just messaged.”
“That’s against the rules of the bachelor party,” I said and snatched his phone.
“The girls ended up at this swanky club, like reservations are booked for a year out. They have a huge, private booth and want us to join them.”
“That’s the opposite of a bachelor party, man!”
“Yeah, but our night’s winding down. We’ve had some drinks here, and it’s been fun, but they’re at the ritziest club in town! I just want to see what it looks like!”
The others agreed, so we headed out.
Liya came down and grabbed us from the lobby, throwing out a group hello and hooking arms with Rohan to lead him first as we followed. We didn’t hug or kiss. We were…still a little awkward around each other in front of our friends.
Liya was as stunning as ever in a snug gold dress with red heels. Her waves flowed down her back and her cheeks flushed the moment she saw me. She gave a shy smile and focused on Rohan. I grinned to myself, somewhat satisfied knowing that she didn’t look at any other man the way she looked at me. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and followed the guys.
The club was nice, and we immediately took in the grandeur of shimmering gold and crystal chandeliers. Women walked around with trays of complimentary champagne with gold flakes. Everyone was dressed to the nines, bling twinkled on every wrist and neck. Even the servers looked like their cars cost more than mine.
The music was loud, and dozens of clustered booths created a circle around a dance floor of writhing bodies. We walked up a grand staircase, following the banister that overlooked the crowd below, and headed into a private booth. The kind with curtains, a huge table, and curved bench seating that could hold ten people.
It was a little quieter up here, and Reema squealed as soon as she saw Rohan. She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him.
I cleared my throat, not that they could hear the subtlety. Inside the booth, tiered plates with meticulously created finger foods filled the table, along with cocktails and bottles of champagne. We ate and drank and admired the spacious area before everyone went out to the dance floor, leaving Liya and me alone.
She kept her hands in her lap and bit her ruby-red lips. The things that simple little act did to me. Electricity practically ignited the air between us.
“We don’t know how to act in front of our friends, do we?” she asked.
I laughed and slid closer to her on the semicircular bench, my arm on the back behind her shoulders. She smelled amazing, hints of flower and vanilla and spice.
“Guess they don’t all know, huh?” I touched her hair, and she melted into me.
“Jay?” she asked and turned in to me.
“Hmm?” I leaned down to kiss her. I couldn’t help it.
I pulled her closer as our kiss deepened. My hand dropped to her bare knee and skated up an inch. Maybe two. Her fingers pressed into my shoulder.
“Were you going to say something?” I muttered against her mouth.
“I love—” She froze, her eyes wide as she caught herself.
I chuckled, but my heart wasn’t as calm as my voice. “Yes? You love what?”
“Your family.”
“Is that all?”
She relaxed a bit and added, “And I love being with you.”
“I love being with you, too.”
“My closest friends know that we’ve been dating, but I’m not ready to be public beyond them and your family. It’s so much pressure. You know my parents will jump straight to wedding talk, and I can’t handle that.”
“I absolutely understand. I just need to make sure that I’m hearing you correctly. Is there an us?”
Liya replied without needing a moment to consider the implications of her answer, “Yes. There is definitely an us.”
I brushed featherlight kisses across her jaw. Maybe it was the few drinks I’d had earlier. Or the many drinks I’d had since arriving at this club. Or maybe it was simply the intoxicating allure of Liya. But her words made my heart beat like never before. They made my skin tingle. They made my gentle kisses turn passionate and consuming.
She gasped as she gripped my shoulder. “You should stop,” she said and pulled away.
“Why?” I moaned.
“Because anyone can open the curtains and walk in. All the food and drinks are here. Someone will be coming back any second.”
“Right…”
She took a long drink of champagne, shimmied out of the booth, and looked down at me, offering a hand. “Come on. Dance with me? Maybe I’ll let you take me home tonight.”
As fast as she moved through these drinks, I had every intention of making sure she got home safely.
What I hadn’t planned on? Sleeping over.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Liya
I woke up to one of the worst headaches in history, the kind that had me seeing double. Even the slightest chirping outside transformed the room into the inside of a war drum. Nausea rolled around in my gut, and everything hurt.
Oh, no, how much did I drink during the club phase of Reema’s bachelorette party?
The clock glinted eleven in the morning. The sunlight tried to pry through the closed blinds. Rolling over, I found a glass of chilled water. Beads of moisture skittered down the sides, and a puddle edged toward a bottle of ibuprofen. Strange. I gulped three pills with water and threw the covers off, suddenly cold from lack of clothing.
Sluggishly tumbling out of bed, my hair all over the place, my joints aching, my face sticky, I wandered around my dresser and pulled on cotton shorts and a tank top. Glancing at the mirror, I smoothed down a wild nest of stiff waves and wiped raccoon eyes. I needed a shower.
As soon as I swung back the bedroom door, a whiff of ginger cha and bataka pooha hit my senses. For a second, I thought I was still in high school, at my parents’ house, and Momma had made breakfast. I didn’t see a lean woman scrubbing away in the kitchen, but the broad shoulders of a man working over a wok.
“What are you doing here?” I flinched and touched my forehead. Ugh. Why was my voice so loud?
“Morning,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“How did you get in here?”
Jay turned to me and dished up spicy potatoes and flattened rice and then sprinkled chopped cilantro and a squeeze of lime on top. “Don’t you remember last night?”
I looked over my shoulder at my bedroom. He must’ve left the water and pills on my bedside table. “Did we…?”