Page 75 of More For Me

She shrugs. “Well, she showed up for the birthday dinner last night when I was under the impression you never told her about Ari.”

I wince, guilt coursing through me. “It’s not like I was trying to hide it or something.”

“Bodhi,” she says softly, reaching over and covering my hand with hers. “I know. You don’t have to explain.”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t even know what happened, honestly. We had a fight after dinner on Friday. Then we both got drunk with her cousins. Then we, uh, kissed?”

She smirks at me. “Is that a question?”

“I hate you. I’m not watching your kids.”

She laughs, patting my hand. “Just tell me what happened, Bhai.”

So I do. I tell her about Everly getting so sad and how we went to the other room together. I tell her about talking in the middle of the night, and her kissing me. And then I tell her about the next day, when Everly tried to act like none of it had even happened.

She winces. “I’m sorry. That had to suck to hear. Do you think it’s possible she really didn’t remember? If you guys were drinking—”

“She remembered,” I say flatly. I know Everly. There’s no way in the world she was telling the truth. I rub a hand over my face. “I knew she was going to be freaking out. But I thought she’d at least talk to me about it.” Didn’t I deserve that? After all this time being friends, didn’t she freaking owe me that?

“Even if she doesn’t want anything with me, she didn’t need to lie.”

“She shouldn’t have lied to you,” Nisha agrees. “But maybe—”

“Don’t make excuses for her,” I snap. “It wasn’t just that we kissed, Nish. We talked about…I told her…we talked about Ari. We talked about when he was sick and…” I look up at her, embarrassment and anger and flat out hurt swirling around in my heart. “She pretended like she didn’t remember that.”

Her face tightens. “I’m sorry, Bahai. I know it’s not easy for you to share that with people.”

I kind of feel like I want to flip over the table, so I grab my mug instead. This time the liquid doesn’t burn me. It also doesn’t do much to calm me.

“It doesn’t seem to be easy for you to share it with me, either,” she says, her voice overly calm. Careful. Like she’s trying hard not to set me off.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You don’t talk about it.” Her mouth turns down, eyes filling with a sadness that’s way too familiar to me. “And I think you should.”

“What about you?” I shoot back. “You don’t talk about it either, Nish.”

“I’ve tried to talk about it with you,” she says, voice sharper now. “I’ve tried, Bodhi. You shut me down every time. Or you deflect. You tell me some joke or start talking about the kids, like you think I need to be cheered up.”

“Excuse me for not wanting you to be sad.” My hands are shaking so I shove them under my legs, not wanting her to see how upset I am.

“But it’s okay to be sad,” she says, sounding exasperated. “Our brother died! That’s sad. It doesn’t matter how many jokes you tell or how big of a fake-ass smile you paste on your face. Some things are just sad.”

“So what’s the point of dragging it up?” I don’t realize I’m shouting until Zayne’s little face appears, peeking around the doorway. I close my eyes, pissed at myself for overreacting.

“It’s okay, beta,” Nisha says calmly.

“Why are you fighting with Uncle?” he asks, eyes wide.

“Because sometimes Mommy fights with her brother,” she says easily. “Just like you fight with yours.”

I grit my teeth. My instinct is to tell him that we weren’t fighting, to say we were just playing around, to cover it up. The idea that I might do something to upset my nephews, to scare them, makes me feel sick. But apparently Nisha sees things differently than me.

“Go back to the living room, okay? We’ll be done soon and then you can beat up your uncle for the rest of the night.”

“Thanks for that,” I mutter.

She looks down at the delicate gold watch on her wrist. It was a gift from our grandmother from the last time we visited her in London as kids, and I don’t think Nisha has taken it off since then. She’s even had links added to the band so it would continue to fit over the years.