Page 18 of Writing Mr. Right

“Nice to meet you!” Aashiq grasps her hand and gives it a shake. “I’m Aashiq, Ziya’s boyfriend.”

Emily’s hand freezes mid-shake, but she quickly regains her composure. “Oh, Ziya’s boyfriend,” she squeaks, clearly trying so hard to keep the betrayal out of her voice. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” She turns to me, and I’m hit with the force of flames in her eyes. “She never mentioned you.”

“Oh, well, it’s fairly new,” he supplies, blissfully unaware of the fact that if he wasn’t in the room right now, she’d be throttling me.

Emily faces Aashiq again. “Well, are you going to join us for karaoke tonight?”

He brightens up. “No!” I cut in before he has a chance to speak, and despite his lower lip pushing out into a pout, I double down. “He’s busy tonight. He…has a work thing to go to—he just dropped by to say happy birthday to me.”

“Oh, okay.” Emily juts her thumb backward. “I’ll wait for you outside, then, Ziya.” She turns around, and as she puts her back to Aashiq, the death glare plastered all over her face causes me to cower.

When she closes the door behind her, Aashiq turns to me, his lower lip pushed out into a pout. “Aww, I can’t come to karaoke with you? I love karaoke!”

I ignore his question. “Why did you say that?” I demand.

“If I’m going to hang around and help you with your writing, then I need an excuse to be here,” he explains in a frustrating matter-of-fact tone, like everything he does should be self-explanatory. “Boyfriend seemed like the most obvious cover.”

“But you told my coworkers you’re shadowing me at work,” I remind him.

“So?” He shrugs. “As I observed today, your coworkers aren’tyour friends, and Emily, your only friend, doesn’t work at your office, so there’s no reason for them to mingle.”

Ouch; that observation stings more than it should. “We should still keep things consistent.”

He nods. “Do you want me to tell people at the office I’m your boyfriend, then?”

Panic rises in my throat. “No!” I reject, throwing my hands up as if I can wave the idea right out of the air. Slowly, I lower them back down. “Just…stay in your lane.”

“I can do that.”

I roll my eyes. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

I move to leave, bracing myself for Emily’s barrage of questions and conjuring up excuses in my head, when Aashiq’s hand circles my wrist. “Ziya, wait,” he says.

I frown at the action. “What is it?”

He drops my wrist, then puts both hands behind his back. After a moment, he brings them to the front, and a gift bag dangles from his fingers. “Happy birthday.”

My brows rise to my forehead. I wasn’t anticipating anything from him today…from anybody, really. My parents always buy me theater tickets, my siblings just Venmo me cash, and Emily is a fan of homemade gifts, but because she’s always so busy, sometimes I get my gift from her weeks after my birthday. I tilt my head to the side. “But you already got me the typewriter.”

“The typewriter was to show you what I could do,” he replies. “I didn’t plan for it to be your gift.” He shakes the bag. “Now, take it.”

Carefully, I accept the bag from him. I pull out the tissue, then reach in and pull out the gift. A surprised gasp slips out of me as I realize what it is. “A first edition ofThe Velveteen Rabbit?” I whisper, barely daring to breathe in case my breath causes the book to collapse. It’s sturdy under my fingers, though. I stare up at Aashiq, awe flooding my face. “How…how did you—”

“You’restillquestioning my methods?”

I nod. “Right,” I say. “But how did you know this was my favorite children’s book?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he replies. “When it comes to your creative side, I pay attention. It’s kind of my job.”

My heart flutters, even though it shouldn’t. I force myself to ignore it. “Thank you,” I say instead. “This is a wonderful gift.”

“You’re welcome.” He gestures to the door. “Now, go get your karaoke on, because when you’re done, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

* * *

Emily, to her credit, doesn’t mention Aashiq until we make it to the karaoke place. Unfortunately, that means my pulse is racing because I’m waiting for her to bring it up. Just as we settle into the room we paid for, I think maybe she’s going to drop it.

Of course, then she pounces. “Now, who thehellis Aashiq andwhyhaven’t you mentioned him?!” she screeches.

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