Page 27 of Journey to You

When a passing couple stared, she ran a hand over her face and lowered her voice. “I’m not like you. You’re brave. Fearless. Everything for you is clear in black and white, while I feel like I’ve been living in some alternate grey universe and I’m finally coming out the other side.”

He stood and reached for her, but she held her hand up to stop him.

“No, let me finish. I need to say this. You’re successful and accomplished, but you know what I envy the most? You know who you are. You know your place in the world, and right now, that’s something I don’t have a clue about…”

Her declaration petered out on a whisper, a taut silence stretching between them until she wished he’d say something, anything, to fill the tense void.

Finally, he slid an arm around her waist, pulled her close, and she let him.

“I didn’t know.”

“That I’m such a loser?”

Her attempt at humour fell flat when he muttered an expletive under his breath and hugged her tighter.

“That you felt like that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s something I have to work through.”

Something she was determined to do. Everything seemed much easier here; away from the memories of Richard, and the shock of discovering the truth about him.

“You’ve had a lot to endure. You know you deserve to be happy, right?”

She’d spent years pretending to be happy when she was anything but: pretending Richard’s passive-aggressive barbs didn’t hurt, pretending his criticism was well-intended, pretending she loved him when inside she died a little every day.

The pretence had extended following his death, playing the grieving widow for appearance sake when deep down she felt like screaming at his treachery, at his selfishness in making her life miserable, while he had fun with another woman behind her back.

“I want to be happy…”

“Then let go.”

He made it sound so simple, but she knew the implication behind his advice, could read it in every tense line of his body. “Let go with you?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Want to know why I came on this trip?”

“I thought it was business?”

He smiled at her sarcasm and released her, his expression inscrutable. “I came to India because of you, Tam. You’re the only woman I’ve met since I made it big that isn’t hanging around me for my money.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Surely not all—”

“All of them. Every single, money-grabbing one.” His sudden anger surprised her as much as his bitterness. “And do you know how I figured it out? Because those women didn’t give me the time of day when I was a struggling chef working an eighty hour week to invest in my first restaurant. They didn’t want to know me until I had anAmbrosiain Paris, New York, Tokyo, and London. Fake, the lot of them. And then there’s you…”

He gripped her arms, his fierceness overwhelming. “You don’t give a damn about how many millions I make this week or the size of my penthouse. You hang out at the restaurant for your work. We have the occasional chat. That’s it.”

But that wasn’t it and they both knew it.

She flicked her tongue out to moisten her lips, her gloss worn away long ago considering the amount of nervous nibbling she’d been doing since they’d started this conversation.

His hands tightened their grip, hauling her closer. “I barely knew you before this trip and spending time with you has changed everything. Yeah, I’m a red-blooded male and I want you. But now—”

He searched her eyes for—what? Approval? Some sign she wanted to see this through until the end?

What she said next would change everything. She could ignore what he’d just said, act like it didn’t change their friendship. But she was done pretending Ethan was nothing more than a travel companion. Done with lying to herself.

So tilted her chin up with newfound defiance and asked, “What do you want from me now?”

“This.”

---