Page 13 of Everything She Wanted

The barista calls out our order. “I’ll get that,” says Nick as he gets up.

I take a moment to tug a crease out of my white tank and smooth the front of my oversized black blazer—my daily armour. I pinned my hair in a messy bun this morning in an attempt to look like I’m not trying too hard, but the pin is already loosening. I take it out and let my long hair cascade down my back, then drape it over one shoulder and look over at Nick, who’s walking back toward our table. I see him stop and stare for just a second. His lips part and his gaze smoulders, and just having him look at me sparks desire down to my core. I drag my eyes away, patting down my hair and playing with the simple gold chain around my neck. The one from my dad—it makes me feel closer to him every time I wear it.

“Your latte.” His voice is soft, like we aren’t in a crowded coffee shop, but somewhere more private.

He places the cup before me, and when I reach to grab it my fingers brush against his. My words become lost in my throat, but I manage to squeak out a thank you.

“Cheers,” he says, and I flash back to the drinks we’ve had together before.

“To what exactly?” I ask, slowly regaining my voice and composure.

“To...fresh starts.”

He bumps his paper cup to mine, and my heart pounds with hope.

Does he remember?

I shake off those thoughts as quickly as they came, because I’m not looking for a fresh start anymore, only a happy ending. And I already have one lined up. Just not with him.

5. All That Glitters

The rest of the week passes in a blur as I scramble to review the pitch materials, trying to bring myself up to speed before my meetings with Nick start next week. I don’t want him to think I’m winging it—even though I am. It’s all new to me, but I start thinking about the recommendations I can make so that I sound well-versed. I try to deny it, but I want to impress him. So lame.

When 5 p.m. hits, I’m happy to get out of here. I grab my things and notice Nick’s still in his office. I stop at his door.

“Have a nice weekend.”

He turns to look at me. “You, too. Up to anything exciting?”

I swear there’s a glint in his eyes as he asks.

No more jazz bars with handsome strangers, if that’s what you’re wondering.

“Just a fashion show with my—” I catch myself before the word boyfriend can slip out “—friends.”

“Oh, are you modelling?” he asks, looking intrigued.

“Um, no. I don’t model,” I stammer. As if.

“That’s a shame.” One corner of his mouth lifts in a smile, and I wonder if he’s messing with me or if he’s enjoying the effect he knows he has on me.

This is the part where I should ask about his plans, but I don’t. I don’t want to know. “Well, I’d better get going. See you Monday!”

“See you then,” he says with what I swear is a smirk playing on his face.

I give him a small smile back and force my feet to move even though I could linger here all night.

See, I can be professional and pretend I don’t remember him either—even though that face of his haunted my dreams for months after our first meeting.

I walk to the SkyTrain on autopilot and get excited for the evening. Eshaan invited me to a big fashion show that’s featuring the latest designs from India, with many of the outfits only available at his parents’ South Asian clothing store on Main Street. He manages their social media and has built quite a following as an influencer. He even convinced me to start a new Instagram account. I finally have a life to be proud of, from my dazzling boyfriend to my career, and I don’t want to hide it anymore. I mean, Eshaan’s perfect on paper and that’s what matters. The other things I’m just overthinking. I don’t exactly have the promotion I’ve been working so hard for, but no one needs to know that. Secretly, I want to show every judgmental asshole from my past how great I’m doing, so they’ll feel bad about how they treated me. The thought comforts me as I walk home from the train station.

Rachel’s out tonight promoting a new vegan sushi restaurant. I change into the saree Eshaan gave me and take my makeup from day to night.

I carefully apply my favourite red lipstick and my mind drifts to the first night I wore such a bold colour: The night I met Nick. I can still see his eyes meeting mine from across the bar. I replay every interaction we’ve had this week in my head. Seeing him again in the boardroom, the meeting in Tom’s office, and then how he stopped at my office and asked me for coffee. I remember the way he looked at me at the coffee shop as he carried our drinks back to the table. The feel of his fingers brushing mine. Then the fact he thought I was modelling—did he think I was beautiful enough to?

I force my brain to focus on Eshaan and the life we’re building together, pushing Nick to the edge of my mind. I’ve already given him far too much real estate. Eshaan is the safe, sensible choice. The one that already has my family’s seal of approval. We’re getting engaged and then married and one day we’ll have a house and a family. And it’s not just about us; we’re forging new bonds between our families and continuing our culture, values, and traditions. The life I’ve dreamed of for so long is finally within my grasp.

When I arrive at the event, I stride through the hotel lobby and head for the grand ballroom, where I see other attendees milling about. Dread begins to form in my stomach. This is the part I hate the most. Milling about on my own making small talk with strangers until Eshaan makes time for me.