Page 12 of Coming Around Again

“Why not?”

She looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head on my shoulders. “This is a dream job for me, Desmond. I’ve worked hard for it. I can’t afford to have people think I’m not serious about it.”

I open my mouth to say that it’s just like when she was working at the hotel, then close it. That doesn’t matter now. Instead, I nod. “Fine. We can meet at my place, if you prefer. I’ll get something delivered. Chinese? Indian?”

“I love Indian,” she says. “I can’t manage the super-spicy ‘Indian-hot’, but I’ll eat pretty much anything else.”

“I’ll just order a variety,” I say, and reach over to her desk for a notepad, scribbling my address on it. “It’s about a fifteen-minute drive…maybe twenty at this time of day.”

Naya bites her lip, looking away. “Okay.”

“See you there,” I say, and back away, faking calm. Hoping she’ll actually show up.

I pull up Raj Palace’s website on my phone and place an order: tikka masala, tandoori chicken, samosas, palak paneer, green moong dal, and naan. That should be plenty to choose from.

I hit some traffic leaving the parking lot, so she gets to my building before I do. We walk in together, although she leaves plenty of space between us.

I’m nervous. I’m still hurt.

And also, I want her very badly.

We take the elevator to the twelfth floor, where I have one of the larger apartments available. There are only two bedrooms, but plenty of space in the living areas, and the kitchen is sizable. “This is it,” I say, unlocking the door. She follows me into the living room but doesn’t sit when I ask her to.

“Nice,” she says, with some noticeable sarcasm.

I come right out with it. “Are you still blaming me for growing up wealthy?”

She bites her lip again. Sighs. “No.” Pause. “I’m blaming you for ditching me without a word.”

I can’t have heard her correctly. “What?”

She sets her purse down and crosses her arms. “You heard me.”

I shake my head. “No. You ditched me. You blocked me and wouldn’t talk to me and…” I stop. She’s shaking her head.

And she looks near tears.

I take a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, why don’t you tell me what happened from your perspective?”

She looks away. I can see her chest rise and fall as she considers. Her arms are still crossed. Finally she exhales hard through her nose. “Like you know nothing about it?”

“Like I’m Jon Snow.”

That’s a shot in the dark. But I figure that the girl who loved Lord of the Rings wouldn’t have missed “Game of Thrones” and the phrase, “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

She gives a brief snort of amusement. “Okay. Take a seat, Jon.”

I sit.

She sits. Not near me, but she sits.

“You left,” she says softly, not looking at me. “You were just gone one day. You didn’t call me, you didn’t answer your phone, your socials were dark, just…nothing. And Thomas told me your family had checked out. There was nothing from you for ten days.” She swipes at her eyes. “I knew you were done with me. Back to Pitt. Not slumming it anymore.”

My jaw has fallen open.

How have I never considered how she’d felt about my silence?

I pace back and forth, not knowing where to start. I want to yell at her, to protest my innocence. But that won’t get me anywhere.

---