The Sheikh's Accidental Bride (The Sheikh Wants A Wife 2) - Page 26

TWELVE

Nadya had only been to her sister’s house once before. She’d been struck before by the grandness of it. She’d objected to it, in a kind of sullen, liberal arts major way, but now she saw it differently. It was a grand house by most standards, yes, but having spent the last few days in the presence of extreme wealth, it was hard to be intimidated or resentful. Besides which, in the time since Nadya had seen this house, Jasmine had had time to live in it and make it her own. Everywhere Nadya looked, she kept seeing little pieces of her sister’s personality.

Their parents were staying here, in another part of the house. But Jasmine had kindly gotten her mother to stay away for the time being. Now the girls sat in a seat under one of the bay windows, drinking some chai tea Jasmine had made for them. Nadya kept staring out at the wall of trees, leaves fluttering in the breeze, with the last remnant of a summer shower glistening in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Have you been hurt?”

It was the first thing that Jasmine said, once Nadya looked like she was ready to speak.

Nadya shook her head emphatically, trying to think of how to phrase it. “No. If anything, I hurt myself. And I hurt someone else.” Nadya searched her sister’s face. She didn’t understand, and her confusion plainly showed. But then, how could she?

“Can you tell me what happened?” Jasmine asked.

Nadya hesitated. Maybe it would do her good, she thought, if she got it all out. But the thought of speaking the words out loud seemed impossible. She couldn’t even say them to Salman, who had felt closer to her than her own skin. Speaking the words to her sister, who hadn’t been there and couldn’t possibly understand, just couldn’t happen. Not yet, anyway.

“Someday,” she said, and hoped it was true.

Jasmine nodded, accepting. “Was there anything illegal? Anything permanent?”

Was there? Impersonation? Identity theft? And the way she felt – the way she had probably made him feel… would that be permanent?

“I don’t know,” she answered, honestly. Her sister deserved the truth. After all, here she was picking up the pieces. “But I don’t think there will be charges, either way.”

“A man?”

Nadya nodded, tears coming again to her eyes. “A good man.” Her voice was cracking as she spoke.

Jasmine hugged her again. “When you’re ready,” she said, “we can talk about it.”

The girls sat drinking their tea. They were close together, and it was peaceful. This wasn’t the reconciliation Nadya had expected, but it felt like was a reconciliation, regardless. Still, she ought to say it…

“I’m sorry, you know… The things I said…”

“I’m sorry, too,” Jasmine got out, before Nadya could elaborate.

“I think I’m sorrier.”

Jasmine had just a hint of a smile on her face as she replied. “You probably should be.”

The girls laughed together, and in spite of the hollow pain still in Nadya’s chest, she began to feel that she might be all right.

She tried to explain to Jasmine that she saw now that she’d been making assumptions about her husband, and about her relationship, that just weren’t fair or justified. But Jasmine just waved her away.

“You don’t have to explain,” she said. “It’s not important. It’s in the past. You’re here, and you’re my sister. Nothing can take that away.”

For the last few days, Nadya had been wishing she had Other Nadya’s life. She’d wanted her money, her future, and her fiancé. But she hadn’t thought, in all that time, of what she would lose in the trade.

Jasmine treated her gently, and they made small, simple conversation while they sipped their tea. By the time their mother could hold her curiosity back no further and intruded, Nadya felt resilient enough to handle her barrage of questions.

She went to sleep that night in a bed not quite as comfortable as the one she had slept in the previous two days. She wasn’t on top of the world, but she was with family. As she drifted off, she did the best she could to let that thought keep her thoughts of Salman at bay, without success. In the end, she resorted to accepting the sleeping pill that her mother had left on her bedside table, sensing it might come in useful.

She went to sleep thinking only of the sunrise.

THIRTEEN

The drugged sleep was odd. It felt like it was holding her, restraining her. Nadya dreamed she saw Salman, trying to get to her, but a woman with an Ambien for a head showed up, dressed in her mother’s clothes, and kept chasing him away.

When she woke, she felt that she’d been fighting battles all night, and that she was more tired still and must have overslept. But when she looked outside, the world was rosy. It couldn’t have been far past dawn. The clock on her phone told her that was true, and gave her a notification that online check-in was now available for her flight.

Seattle. It had been home for the last four years. When she’d been on the plane coming here, she’d already been looking forward to going back. But now? All she could see in her mind was the rain, her dingy apartment, and the sense that something had gone wrong and she was neither with whom she wanted nor where she wanted to be.

Still trying to clear the haze from her head, she sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard. She needed to take stock. Her life had been going OK… or so she’d thought. She’d been making it on her own.

But had she, really? Away from her parents, whose pushy intrusions were now beginning to feel more and more like justifiable concern. Isolated from her sister. Taking jobs that demanded she spend her time in ways she hated, in the endless quest to prove to the world that she could make it on her own.

She could see the river from here, she realized, in the hazy, rose-gold light.

The world didn’t care. The thought struck her as if from nowhere, as she stared at the hint of the river.

It didn’t care if she struggled. It didn’t care if she made decisions that made her life harder, just to prove that she could. If there was one thing Salman had showed her – one thing she would always be grateful to him for, no matter how much the very thought of him might cause her to ache – it was the lesson that not having to struggle didn’t make you less. He was more of a man, and a better, more honorable man than she had ever met, and he had suffered for nothing.

She would accept her sister’s help. Before, when Jasmine had suggested that maybe Nadya could stay with her for a while, while she figured out what it was she went back to school for, it had only made her angry. She’d thought it was an accusation that she wasn’t strong enough or good enough to make it on her own.

Now she saw it differently. She was strong enough. She was good enough. But she didn’t have to make it on her own.

She’d always loved New York, and Jasmine would let her stay here, until she got back on her feet. She’d find a job, but it wouldn’t be killing her. She’d be able to take some time, and figure out want she wanted.

And then she would go back to school. She already had an inkling of what she might choose, though she wasn’t sure yet. Yesterday, in the bath, she’d thought about the life she wanted. And most of that would never come true… could never come true. But in that daydream, she’d chosen to spend her time helping the less fortunate, and that was something she could still do.

Jasmine would be up for her morning run soon. Nadya threw back the covers, excited to talk to her. After all that had happened yesterday, and how distraught she had been, making coffee for Jasmine was the least she could do.

As her feet hit the cool floor, Nadya thought about the day to come. It would be Jasmine’s anniversary party. There’d be arrangements still to be made. The day would be a whirlwind of—

Nadya’s blood ran cold. If today was Jasmine’s anniversary, that meant that today was also the day of Salman’s wedding. He, too, would be making last-minute arrangements. Other Nadya would be here in New York. They’d be there at the pavilion. They’d promise each other the future.

The vision Nadya had begun to make of her own future, fragile in the dawn light, was cracking. Maybe he wouldn’t marry her; maybe he wouldn’t go through with it, after all that had happened. Maybe neither of them would. But if there was the slightest chance that they did, and they ended up living together in that country house, how long could Nadya really stay? How could she not think of him with every helicopter, limo, or train that she saw pass her by, wondering if he was aboard, shuttling between his house in the country and his business interests in the city?

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