Exhaustion dragged at her arms and legs. All she wanted was to go home and sink into her bed, without facing Shobi, without thinking about Rico, or all the other shit he was dredging up.
She washed her hands, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror. Her phone buzzed . . . her car was here. Finally. She was about to let herself out of the restroom when she heard a retching sound. Someone was throwing up in one of the stalls.
She walked to the stall the sound had come from. “Are you okay?”
The response was another mighty heave.
“Do you need help?” Ashna asked again, and saw that the stall was unlocked.
“I think I’m dying.” It was Song. Of course it was. She reached back and opened the door, then returned to her crouch over the commode and heaved some more.
Ashna squatted down next to her and stroked her back. “Do you want me to call someone?”
Song shook her head. The poor girl looked miserable. “I should never drink red wine. It always makes me throw up. I’m such an idiot.”
Ashna didn’t bother to argue with that assessment. “You need some water.” She fished out a bottle from her bag and handed it to her. “Rinse your mouth out before swallowing. That’ll help settle your stomach.”
Song did as she was told while Ashna kept a hand on her back. That usually helped with the dizziness. The water seemed to settle Song’s stomach and she leaned her head against the stall.
Ashna pulled the flush lever, trying not to let the smell of alcohol-tinged puke bring back every bad childhood memory. “Think you can walk outside and sit down?”
Song nodded and Ashna helped her up.
For a moment Ashna thought Song would sink back down, but she leaned on Ashna and found her balance.
Ashna gave her a moment before she led her out. Just as she turned the corner out of the restroom looking over her shoulder to make sure Song was all right, she ran right smack into the rock-solid chest of Frederico Silva.
He grabbed her arms, steadying her, his touch gentle, his heartbeat frantic beneath her hands. She wanted to pull away, truly she did. They stood there like that, hands clinging to painfully familiar skin, soaking up who they used to be. Heat rose from him, his musky soapy scent working awareness into every nook and cranny of her being.
“I’m so sorry,” Song said next to them, and Ashna’s frozen body released. She took her hands off his chest.
“You all right?” Still holding Ashna, Rico turned to Song. There was such tenderness in his voice, Ashna wished she could disappear.
Speaking of disappearing, her ride!
She pulled away, fished her phone out of her purse, and ran out to the lobby. No! No. No. One missed call and two texts, and a canceled ride. She texted frantically, but it was too late. Darn it, the rideshare app searched and searched, giving her nothing.
“Hey, Ashna, everything okay?” Song asked. She was holding on to Rico but she looked much less green.
Ashna forced a smile, not that she wasn’t glad to see Song looking better. “My rideshare just canceled on me. Let’s get you to the couch.”
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were on your way out. Thanks so much for staying to help me. But why are you leaving? It’s still early.” Song tried to sit but lost her balance and fell onto the couch, taking Rico with her.
They tumbled back together, laughing, completely comfortable with each other. Ashna’s arms tingled where he had held her.
She looked at her wrist, even though she wasn’t wearing a watch, and felt immeasurably stupid. “It’s late for me. I have an early morning.” She fought to keep the smile on her face.
“How long before your ride gets here?” Song asked kindly, leaning her head on Rico’s shoulder.
Every single time Song touched him like that, as though he was hers to touch, pain sliced through Ashna. The feel of his chest wouldn’t stop burning on her palms.
The app found a ride. It was another twenty minutes, but the relief almost knocked her off her feet. “Not too long. Did you want me to get you a drink? Some ginger ale?”
Song’s smile was grateful, and it made her perfect face glow. “I’m feeling all better. The red wine’s out.” She rubbed her belly. “We’ll wait with you.”
We.
“Thank you. Really, you don’t have to do that.” Please don’t do that. “The car will be here soon.”
“No, it won’t.” Finally, Rico found his voice. “There’s thirty thousand people here for the conference. Wait times are ridiculous right now.”
She hated how she felt his voice everywhere.
When she looked up at him, there was a frown folded between his brows. The one that made him look like the past twelve years hadn’t happened. The focused gaze that had changed her life.
He typed something on his phone.
Ashna looked down at her own phone and channeled all her mental energy to will the wait time to move. It did the exact opposite. Still twenty minutes.
There was no way on earth she could spend another minute here with them.
“George will take you home.” Rico stood, pointing across the lobby to the black town car that pulled up outside the doors. The black town car he had made appear in under a minute. “Come on.”
Ashna didn’t want his driver taking her anywhere. “George can take Song home when she’s ready. My ride is almost here.”
His jaw was set. “Song has her own car. She can drop me off if George doesn’t get back by the time we’re ready to leave.”
Song beamed at him from the couch and opened her arms to Ashna.
Ashna bent and gave her a hug.
Of course, he’d want to drop Song off at her hotel when they were ready to leave.
Rico pressed a hand into her back. “Let’s go.”
Song slumped back onto the couch, waving at Ashna, and Ashna couldn’t bring herself to argue with Rico in front of her. Not that his hand on her back was making it easy to form words.
Why did bodies have minds of their own?
They walked out through the automatic glass doors into the cool night and she shivered. He opened the car door and she got in.
Shutting her door, he walked over to the other side and opened the passenger-side door. “Curried Dreams, 300 High Street in Palo Alto,” he said to the driver as he reached in and fiddled with the temperature control on the center console. The car, and the seat she was sitting on, warmed instantly. Ashna’s insides followed suit. “Ms. Raje can tell you where to go from there.” With that he thanked George, barely met Ashna’s eyes, and went back to Song.
When the town car pulled up to her home, Ashna thanked George and tried to tip him. He refused with a smile and a “Mr. Silva is more than generous, Ms. Raje.”
Those words dug into her already aching heart like sharp spikes as she got out of the car. It was probably the chill in the air but her nose ran, and she sniffed and pressed her jacket sleeve into her face as she stood in the middle of her driveway and stared at Curried Dreams behind her bungalow. She had no idea how long she stood there like that. Finally, when she could, she dragged herself up the driveway and the ramp, which had been put in for Yash’s wheelchair when he’d had his accident. It had come in handy later for Baba’s scooter when mobility became an issue.
Every light in the house seemed to be on. Every time Ashna came home, she expected Shobi to be gone. Nope. Still here. And yet she hadn’t come to the studio with the rest of their family. Mina Kaki had to have called her.