Serving Pleasure (22 page)

“Your door’s not that thick.” His face was harder than ever, unyielding. “I heard.”

“Oh God.” She considered all the things she and her mother had said, and felt a rush of shame. “We’ve never had a confrontation like that before. I mean, I knew deep down I was her disappointment. Her practice kid before she got it right. But she never looked at me like
that
.”

He stroked her shoulder, down her arm, linking their fingers together. Tears brimmed over her eyes, until she felt the splotch of wetness on her cheeks. Inhaling deeply, she fought to get herself under control, but it was of no use. “I used to imagine us one day getting into a fight, laying our feelings out. I imagined I would be so strong, you know? Like I thought I wouldn’t care what she thought about me at all.”

He tugged her closer. “Of course you would care.”

“I feel weak for caring.” The truth was dawning on her, and it was ugly. Had she truly paddled around behind her mother like a baby duck for the past year, craving her approval? Was that who she was now?

He tipped her chin up. With his thumbs, he wiped away her tears. “My parents have always thought the sun rose and set on me,” he said, bitterness coating every word. “For the last two years, all I see when I look at them is disappointment in who I’ve become.”

Rana swallowed, trying to see past her own pain to his. “I’m certain that’s not true.”

“No?” His lips compressed. “I put an ocean between me and my family so I wouldn’t have to see that disappointment anymore.”

“You—”

His tone was harsh. “I’m not saying this so we can talk about me. I’m just saying…I get why you let her talk to you like that. It’s hard not to do everything in your power to make sure the people you love keep looking at you with approval. Instead of disappointment.”

That sounded surprisingly insightful, actually. Too insightful. How had he been able to see that when even she couldn’t? Her chest heaved. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He ran his hand over his head. He’d retied his hair, and she wished he hadn’t. When he had it down, she could imagine she was seeing a part of him no one else did. Like he was hers. “You have no reason to be sorry.”

She had so many reasons to be sorry. “The things she said about you…you can’t take it personally. She doesn’t know who you are.” Her voice was scratchy.

He stilled. “She knows I’m no good for you long term. But we already knew that, didn’t we?” His lips pressed together, so hard they made a white line. “I heard her. I also heard you. What you said about me.”

“I couldn’t not speak up,” she whispered.

She’d gotten so good at reading his face. A necessity, because otherwise the man didn’t emote.

There it was. A softening of his eyes, the relaxing of his mouth. “The things you said were…sweet. So sweet. But, Rana. Maybe…maybe we should reevaluate—”

“Micah.” Her heart squeezed. No. No, no, no. Reevaluate? That word was dangerous. She’d been the dumpee and the dumper too many times not to know what was coming.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “That was your condition. Right? We wouldn’t fall in love with each other. Because it wouldn’t work.”

“You’re not in love with me,” she rushed out.

He took a step away, and it felt like the entire Atlantic Ocean had come between them. “It…it doesn’t matter how I feel about you. You weren’t going to fall in love with me.”

She tried to force a laugh, but it sounded too much like a sob. “Wow, that’s some ego you have, if you think I’m in love with—”

“Tell me you aren’t.” The words sliced through the air, cutting her off. “Tell me you felt nothing for me when you defended me to your mother just now. Tell me you don’t love me, Rana.”

She opened her mouth, knowing she was going to lie. Wanting to lie.
I don’t.
That was all she had to say. Two words.

And she could go back to his arms. They could forget this awkward conversation, and she could strip naked for him again.

She wasn’t in love with him. They hadn’t known each other long enough to be in love with each other. They were too different. Neither of them was emotionally stable enough to fall in love.

Two. Words.

“Rana.” The word was almost pleading. “Say it.”

She had never begged a man, not since she was a young girl who didn’t know any better. “Don’t do this. Not now.”

His forehead creased. He wasn’t unaffected. She could see his pain in the way he held himself away from her, in the lines on his face, in the halting way he spoke. “It was your condition. So we could keep this temporary…”

“Would it be so bad?” she blurted out.

He searched her eyes. She waited, breath caught. Then he devastated her with a single word. “Yes.”

Well. This hurt too much for her not to be in love with him.

Stupid, foolish, impulsive Rana. This is why I tried to improve you,
New Rana chided her.
What kind of dummy falls in love with a fling?

“I can’t give you what you need,” he was saying. “You deserve—”

“Stop.” She wanted to back away from him, but there was nowhere to go. She was already pressed against the front door, and they were in her house. She couldn’t run away from him. “Please don’t say I deserve better.”

His face was drawn. “It’s the truth.”

“Uh-huh.” She was perilously close to losing it, and she couldn’t cry in front of him. Not the way she wanted to, in deep, racking sobs, face down in her bed. “Okay. So. We’re done then.”

“We have to be.”

They didn’t have to be, she thought viciously. They’d been happy. This was hurting them, because he was being a butthead.

He’s only sticking to the condition you put in place.

Nope, sorry, this was not the place or time for logic. “So, um. You don’t need me to model anymore?” The question was almost too desperate, but she needed everything spelled out, every ambiguity cleared up.

He swallowed. “I think I have everything I need. I’ll give you a check.”

“You can stick it in my mailbox.” He knew where that was. Anything so she didn’t have to see him when he came marching over with the reminder of their time together. Would she even be able to cash that check?

Yes, damn it. She would. She’d cash that little bitch of a check and she’d spend every dime on all the silly, frivolous things that made her happy.

His eye twitched. “Very well, then.”

She nodded. “Right,” she managed. “Awesome.” She focused on a point over his shoulder and forced another smile, this one utterly fake and wooden. “Thanks for the sex. And the gig. It was a cool experience.”

“When the painting’s done, I—”

“I’d rather not see it right now. Maybe later. I don’t know.”

He hesitated but didn’t push it. So solicitous. What a prince. “Of course.”

She couldn’t do this anymore. She groped behind her until she found the doorknob, and then jerked open the door, standing aside. “You can go.”

He took a step, then another, his gaze fixed on her. “You know this isn’t easy for me,” he said hoarsely. “You’re the first woman I’ve slept with, the first woman I’ve painted, since the attack. You’re the first taste of…normalcy I’ve had in two years.”

Oh, the irony. Rana Malik had had men call her a wild child, a whirlwind, crazy, and slutty, but not one had ever called her normal. She cleared her throat, trying to swallow down her bitterness. “Maybe it’ll get easier. Like, the next girl you dump for her own good, you’ll barely blink.”

He came closer, until they were standing side by side in the doorway, and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her.

She couldn’t stand that. Couldn’t stand the thought of him brushing his lips over hers and then walking away. She pressed her head against the doorframe, leaving him more than enough room to pass.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I don’t want anyone else.”

She quelled the hopeful leap her heart gave. “That’s a fucking lie.” Oh, now she was strong. Or at least she sounded strong. Same thing.

“I’m not ending this because I want to fuck other women,” he growled, a hint of anger replacing the sorrow and, oh God, pity in his expression.

“Maybe not now, but you will.” She nodded so hard, her hair bounced. “You will, because that’s what you did before, right? When you were ‘normal.’” She made air quotes around the word. “You fucked women and you painted them, and you sold your paintings for tons of dough and you lived in a golden age where everything was perfect.”

His teeth ground together. “You’re being flip.”

“No, I’m basically repeating everything you’ve said. Your life was perfect. And now it’s not. You’ll be okay, though.” She clenched her teeth. “You had me, right? You said it: I made you feel. I was your first taste of normalcy. Like…therapy. I think you called them
steps
once. That’s what I was. A step.” A step on the path to moving on from what had happened to him.

You used him for your own purposes too,
her conscience whispered, cooling her hurt anger before it had the chance to burst into flames.
Remember the muffin? You don’t get to be so self-righteous.

Ironically, the fact that her hands were unclean only made her madder.

“
You
weren’t the step, it was…” He trailed off, and a mask descended over his face. “Yes. Fine. You were a step.”

Hurt washed over her, another layer of it. So much pain it didn’t even matter anymore. She raised her shoulders. “You’ll sleep with someone else. You’ll paint someone else,” she said, needing to hear the words.

“I’ll sleep with someone else. I’ll paint someone else.” He recited the words flatly. “I’ll get back to normal.”

Each word was like a sharpened knife against her heart. “Get out, please,” she managed. “I need you to go. For real.”

Micah’s lashes lowered. “Of course.”

He had placed one foot on the front porch when she spoke up, unable to stop herself from talking to his wide back. “For the record, you may not think you’re perfect anymore, but I lov—I did like you, Micah. From the moment I saw you.”

He jerked, but that was his only reaction. Or the only reaction she saw before she shut the door very carefully, mindful that it not slam.

What would New Rana do? New Rana would pull herself together, look at her life unflinchingly, remove all emotion from the equation, and get herself back on track. Maybe she would call her mother and apologize, or reactivate the dating apps on her phone. There were so many things she needed to accomplish.

New Rana got herself up the stairs. New Rana carefully closed the blinds on her bedroom, and pulled the curtains too, shutting out the daylight and Micah’s house. New Rana got her clothes off and slipped into her pajamas.

That was about all New Rana could manage. Current Rana curled up on the bed and cried her heartache out in huge, loud, tearing sobs.

A
ringing cut
through her grogginess, and Rana grabbed at the cell on her nightstand. “’Lo?”

“Where are you?” Leena’s assertive voice rang through the line.

Damn it. This habit she had of answering phones when she was half-asleep was going to kill her one day. Rana rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling. “My bed. Why?”

“You missed meeting Devi for the walk-through of the new site last night, and you didn’t show up for work today. We’re worried.”

“I texted Devi.”

“In all Emojis. What the hell does sad face, ice-cream bowl, lightning bolt, heart even
mean
?”

Rana pursed her lips. “If I have to tell you, it’s not worth it.”

Leena made a rude noise. “Why aren’t you working?”

She got up, threw her legs over the side of the bed, and cast a glance at the clock’s glowing red numbers. Huh. It was six p.m. That was late. Had she been in bed since yesterday?

What was there to get out of bed for? “I’m not working because I don’t feel like it.” Listless, she stood and staggered to her bathroom as Leena started yammering in her ear, probably about responsibility and leadership and all sorts of other boring shit.

She shoved her toothbrush in her mouth and grunted in response to whatever Leena asked her. A couple of halfhearted strokes on her teeth and she was done.

When she lifted her head, she winced at the person staring back at her in the mirror. God, she looked like crap.
Note to self: avoid your reflection today.

“This is an important time, and we need you…”

Rana fingered the tangled strands of her hair, which were all knotted up in a rats’ nest on the back of her head. She’d always loved her hair. It was naturally thick and shiny, and she’d worn it long forever. Most of her loving, nonantagonistic memories of her mother revolved around her combing Rana’s hair.

Micah had liked it too.

“I’m going to cut off all my hair,” she blurted out, interrupting Leena’s lecture.

There was a long pause on the other end. “Don’t do anything. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“
M
ove it
, sister.”

Rana stood aside obediently as Leena walked inside her door, unsurprised to see a very worried-looking Devi behind her. “Needed reinforcements, huh?”

“I was concerned, so I tagged along,” Devi said in her soft voice.

“Well, you saw me.” Rana closed the door with a snick. “I’m fine.”

Leena looked her up and down and raised a brow. “Wow, I didn’t realize being fine made you look like shit.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Devi asked, always the peacemaker.

Rana opened her mouth, and then realized she didn’t know. She’d had a bite to eat yesterday, in between crying jags. She thought so, at least.

At her silence, Leena took command of the situation, as was her wont. “Come on then.” She swept them all into Rana’s small kitchen, and directed Rana to a chair.

Devi began opening and closing the fridge and cupboard doors.

“I don’t have much food in stock,” Rana said.

“I can see that.” Devi’s tone was cheerful. “I’ll make do.”

Of course, Devi could make a gourmet meal out of sawdust and saliva, which she might be reduced to today.

Rana sighed and propped her head on her hands. It felt too heavy to support. “Guys, I’m really not great company right now.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have to entertain us.” Leena’s tone brooked no nonsense.

Rana shrugged, too steeped in her own depression to really bother with them. She didn’t know when their presence went from unwanted to soothing. While Devi puttered around her kitchen, Leena fetched Rana’s brush from her room. At the first gentle touch of the bristles against her scalp, Rana closed her eyes and sat without complaint while Leena patiently removed the tangles and braided it. By the time Devi slid a steaming-hot plate of French toast in front of Rana, she felt slightly more human.

In true form, Devi had arranged the toast in an artful stack, with just the right hint of cinnamon and syrup layered on top. As appetizing as it looked, her mind rebelled at the thought of eating. “I’m not hungry.”

Neither Leena nor Devi responded, but Leena set to cutting the French toast into small pieces. A cup of coffee appeared at her right hand. Leena forked up a piece and held it in front of her mouth. “Ahh.”

Rana opened her mouth to protest being treated like a child, but the food was shoved in instead. She would have reamed her sister out, but it tasted so damn good, she couldn’t. Her stomach growled.

She didn’t protest the next bite, or the next. She allowed Leena to feed her until her stomach felt moderately full and the plate was empty. Leena put the fork down.

“Do you want more?” Devi asked from where she sat across the table.

Rana shook her head and took a healthy gulp of coffee.

“Okay, girl.” Leena pulled out a chair next to hers. She settled in, careful not to muss her pressed skirt. Her angled hair swung above her shoulders. “Time to talk.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Uh-huh.” Leena looked less than convinced. “Come on, Rana, you’re no good at keeping things bottled up.”

Yeah, Rana loved to talk. That was the saying, right? Rana could talk to anybody. She traced the ring of moisture left by her orange juice glass with the tip of her finger. “Really, I’m just in a bit of a slump. I’ll be okay by tomorrow.”

“Rana.” Devi stilled her hand by settling hers over it. “Please, let us help you.”

She took a deep breath. In her mind, she patted Devi and gave a brave smile. “I’m fine, really. I got my period, and it’s a bitch. You know how these things are.”

With a minimum of fuss, Rana followed her sisters to the door and showed them out, grateful for the opportunity to clamber back into her cave of a bed and disappear.

Of course, things never played out quite like they did in Rana’s head. In reality, she took a deep breath, and her verbal filter went on the blink. “I’ve been trying so hard to be good and loveable, but then I met my neighbor who I was also creeping on and he was so hot and so I slept with him, but I think I accidentally fell for him even though we both agreed it was supposed to be temporary, and now I’m miserable because he called it quits for my own fucking good, and I don’t want an acceptable man I want him, and that’s why I’m only responding in Emojis because Mama doesn’t understand them, but she keeps texting me because we had a big fight and she said I’m a slut no one will ever love.” She said the last on a wail, and then threw her head down onto her folded arms to sob her heart out.

Silence reigned for a long moment.

“Rana…” Devi trailed off, her voice strained.

Leena didn’t speak. After a second, both of her sisters’ chairs scraped against the tile. In the midst of her tears, she heard doors open and close, and the faucet turned on and off. As her sobs subsided to a weak stream of tears, Leena tilted her face up. A soft, wet cloth ran over her heated cheeks, followed by a dry one, the motion oddly soothing.

Rana squinted out of her swollen eyes at a bottle of whiskey Devi thumped onto the table, along with three shot glasses Rana had bought on vacation in Jamaica. They were shaped like naked women.

“I’ve been saving that whiskey.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers, it was so thick.

“I’ve never seen you need it more,” came Devi’s emphatic response. She poured three shots and shoved one toward her. “Drink.”

“I just ate.”

“We’ll do it with you.” Leena grabbed a glass and pounded it back. “Now down the hatch.”

She accepted the shot reluctantly, but the warmth that spread down her throat and blossomed in her chest was the most welcome thing she’d ever experienced. “Oh, I needed that,” Rana sighed.

“Yes. You did.” Devi sat down and collected the shot glasses, clutching the bottle as if she was ready to pour more emergency liquor. “Okay, Rana, I only caught about a tenth of what you spewed out…”

She sniffled, her misery a living, breathing thing. “Forget it, okay? It’s all stupid.”

“What isn’t stupid is that you’re devastated. We’re going to help you, like you help us when we’re sad.”

Rana peered at Devi. “Do I help you when you’re sad?” Her lip trembled. “I usually hurt more than help.”

“Oh my God,” Leena muttered under her breath.

“Leena,” Devi snapped, then smiled at Rana. “You always help me. Remember that time that guy stood me up for dinner a few years ago? You spoon-fed me ice cream and watched movies with me so I wouldn’t cry.”

Leena stirred, reluctantly chiming in. “Or that time I was certain I failed my accounting exam, in college. You drove down and took me to that god-awful club in Miami.”

“You hated that club.”

Leena shrugged. “Hating the club and being annoyed with you was better than crying in my dorm room all night.”

“So let us help you,” Devi said firmly. “Now, what’s this about needing to be loveable? We already love you.”

“You almost didn’t,” she whispered, unable to look at Devi.

There was a long pause while Devi processed that, and then she laid her hand on Rana’s arm. “Wait. Are we talking about what happened with…?”

“Yes,” she rushed out, not eager for that man’s name to ever be said again. “That.”

“I told you, that’s old news.” Devi shook her head. “I would never hold a grudge against you based on that. He was an asshole.”

“You should,” Rana said, blinking hard to keep from crying. “I was an asshole too. I betrayed you as much as he did.”

Leena snorted. “Bullshit. Your heart was in the right place. You weren’t actually there to seduce that turd.”

“My heart’s always in the right place. I just…don’t think.” She rapped her knuckles against the table. “I go off half-cocked and I ruin everything.”
I’m sorry, Mrs. Malik. Rana is such a bright girl, but if only she would learn to control her impulses…

Her sisters exchanged looks. Devi spoke first. “Rana. I had no idea you were still beating yourself up over this. But I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it: I totally don’t fault you for what you did. Was it maybe a little overboard? Yes. But I do understand why you thought you had no other choice.”

Leena interjected. “And yeah, you can be impulsive. You don’t think everything to death like me—”

“Or fret over rejection and failure like me,” Devi added.

“But sometimes those impulses pay off. I mean, hell, you’re in charge of hiring for a reason. Because you read people in a split second and can tell whether they’ll work out or not.”

Rana sniffed. For years, she’d yearned for her sisters to acknowledge she was in charge of something at the restaurant other than filling water glasses, but now she protested. “I’m in charge of hiring because no one else will do it.”

“Because we’re not good at it like you are.” Leena shook her head. “We need your ability to take risks. Hell, if it were up to me, we’d be sitting on the profits from this one restaurant until we all die. You’re the reason we expanded to catering. You’re the only reason we’re expanding to a second site, long after the time we should have. You were the one who pushed us out of our comfort zones.”

“Truth.” Devi poured three more shots of whiskey. Without protesting, all three of them took the drink. “And you are loveable.”

“You seriously thought we would stop loving if you didn’t…what? Change?” Leena sounded incredulous.

She lifted one shoulder. “Maybe.”

“That could never happen,” Devi said.

“I was trying to be better. New and improved.” Her fingers played with the shot glass.

“Rana.” She looked at Devi. “That new-and-improved thing…is that what the men were about? The talk about getting married?”

Rana bit her lip, unsure if she could verbalize the mess of emotions inside her to anyone, but needing to try. They felt ugly and huge inside her chest. “I’m beginning to realize maybe it’s all tied together,” Rana said haltingly. “It’s like one day I woke up and I realized how I really only have you guys. I felt…lonely. Leena has had Rahul forever. Then you found Marcus and Jace. I just wanted someone to love. But none of the men I met felt right. And then I met Micah…”

“Wait.” Leena held up her hand, stunned realization widening her eyes. “Micah Hale? That’s the neighbor you slept with?”

“Yeah. I lied when he came to the office. It was supposed to be a fling and…then it wasn’t.” She studied the table. “He broke things off with me yesterday. For my own good.”

“Asshole,” Leena muttered.

“He’s not a complete asshole,” Rana tried to defend him. “I think he’s sincere. He has a lot of stuff he needs to work through. I was just like…a step on his way to recovery, you know? I knew that going in. He said as much when we ended things.”

“Then fuck him.” Rana jerked her head up to look at Devi, who wore a grim expression. “You deserve way more than being someone’s stopping point.”

Fresh tears stung Rana’s eyes. She had always been an easy crier. She’d spent her life hiding her tears, fearful everyone would think she was even more high-maintenance than they already considered her to be. “Do I though? What do I bring to the table?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

She turned to Leena. “You’re smart and ambitious and educated. Devi’s sweet and nice and accomplished. What am I?”

“You’re not seriously asking this.” Devi raised her eyebrows.

“I’m pretty. I have a nice face and was lucky enough to be born with long legs and firm breasts. And that’s it. All I bring to a relationship is myself.”

“That’s enough,” Leena said sharply. For a second Rana thought she was telling her to shut up, but then Leena continued. “Who you are is more than enough.”

“And when it fades?” Rana was aware her voice was rising in desperation, and she couldn’t stop herself. “When I’m not pretty anymore? What’s going to be left then?”

“Did Mama say this to you?” Leena’s words were deadly quiet, sharpened with menace.

You can find someone good. A man who knows nothing about your past, one who would be happy to have such a pretty, lively girl as his wife.
“I’ve slept with too many men, but at least I’m pretty, so I better trick someone into marriage now,” she whispered. “That’s the gist of our fight.”