“Yes. But not after that. I cannot work with you past March twentieth. I’m going on a leave of absence.” Her gaze shifted to the pink privacy screen, but her expression didn’t change.
“I understand. Thank you,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. She looked at him again and smiled. Arealsmile that made Nikhil’s entire body relax with relief. He wanted to hug her, but he knew she wouldn’t want that. And maybe it wasbest if he kept things as professional as possible… because the memories that came crashing in when her floral-citrus scent hit his nose were probably best buried deep. He put out his hand to shake hers. “Deal. As old friends,” he added.
Mahreen nodded as she shook his hand. “Ascolleagues. Let’s keep it professional.” She motioned toward the door to the main personal shopping office. “Okay, let’s get out there before rumors start,” she said, heading toward the door.
He snorted. “No worries there. The ironclad NDA prevents gossip.”
When they got back out to the main room, Mahreen apologized for her shock at seeing him and explained to the others that she would be happy to work with Nik for the next couple of weeks to get ready for Comicon. Nikhil smiled and nodded along while she spoke.
Everyone sprang into action. Lydia outlined what he’d need for Comicon, and Mahreen said she’d send inspiration pictures to her the following day for studio approval. Nikhil himself wouldn’t be doing any of this approving. Once that was settled, a septuagenarian tailor came in and took Nikhil’s measurements.
When they were all done, Mahreen smiled her professional smile and said goodbye. The glimpse of warmth she’d had in the fitting room a few minutes ago was long gone. Clearly, she’d meant it when she said that she would keep things professional between them. Maybe he wasn’t getting his friend back. Maybe all he’d done by finding Mahreen was add a touch more humiliation to his life now that his high school crush, one-time lover, and the most beautiful person he’d ever met also thought he was a man-baby diva.
He shouldn’t have come here. Nikhil wished he could go back to this morning when everyone thought he was dead.
CHAPTER THREE
Marley
Angel Durand’s bra-whipping incident was clearly cosmic foreshadowing for all the strange twists fate was throwing at Marley’s life. Of course, the strangest twist had to be the reemergence of Nikhil Shamdasani, her chemistry lab partner who was now apparently a soon-to-be Hollywood superstar. Marley honestly didn’t need the reminder of that time in her life,especiallynow.
But today’s moment might be even stranger. Marley was now standing in a hospital examination room, and a fiftysomething silver fox of a plastic surgeon was sitting on a chair in front of her. The doctor’s eyes were inches from Marley’s naked breasts, and he was inspecting them with a thoroughness that no hookup of Marley’s, male or female, had ever come close to matching. He even lifted each breast to inspect the underside. That wasn’t the weirdest part of this experience, though. The weirdest part was that none of this felt weird at all.
Dr. Andrew Abernathy was considered one of the best plastic surgeons in the country for breast work—both augmentation and reconstruction. And being the subject of his full attention now was a relief more than anything else. Marley had been waiting over ayearto have aprophylactic double mastectomy with reconstruction, and finally the surgery was two weeks away.
“We’ve decided on a one-step direct-to-implant procedure, right?” the doctor asked.
Marley nodded. One step—remove her natural, healthy, and very-much-appreciated breasts and immediately replace them with silicone facsimiles. Everyone told her she was so lucky she was a candidate for this procedure. That it was so much easier than tissue expanders or using tissue from elsewhere on her body to create new breasts. They said she was lucky Dr. Abernathy would be the one operating on her.
Marley didn’t feel very lucky about any of it.
After the examination, the doctor explained the process while Marley sat on the table with her gown pulled shut. It sounded so… simple. And terrifying. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her thigh.
“I’ll order implants in several sizes and see what fits you best when we’re in there,” he said. Just like Marley bringing dresses in several sizes to a customer in the fitting room. “Do you have a size preference? We can’t achieve a drastic size change with this procedure, but if you’d like to go a hair larger or smaller, I could accommodate that.”
Marley liked her body shape just fine. “I’d like to stay the same if possible.”
He nodded, then turned to get something from a cupboard behind him. It was a round, clear water balloon–looking thing. Marley knew this was a breast implant. “This is the model I’ll be using on you. I think this size will fit best.” He handed it to her.
The implant was large in her hand, and the plastic-like shell felt smooth while the inside was soft and squishy. It wascool, heavy, and it felt so fake… so not like a body part. Marley squeezed the implant with trembling fingers. She handed it back to the doctor. How could something that felt so sterile ever feel like a part of her?
“How much time will I have to take off work?” she asked.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a retail sales consultant. Luxury fashion.”
“Oh, like at Saks Fifth Avenue?”
“Reid’s.”
He smiled. “My wife’s favorite store. I assume you’re on your feet a lot? I’d say you’ll need at least six weeks. Could be longer. You can apply for unemployment insurance if your employer doesn’t offer sick leave.”
“We have short-term disability.”
“Excellent. The nurse will provide you with a note. I’ll have her give you all the pre- and post-op instructions. Do you have any more questions for me first?”
Marley did not, so Dr. Abernathy left. After Marley put her clothes on, an RN came in to give her a huge packet of instructions. She showed Marley the drain tubes that would be inserted into her body during the surgery to drain excess fluid and showed her how to empty the bulbs twice a day. Her stomach churned as she squeezed the empty bulb. Marley remembered helping her mother with her drains after her mastectomy. Marley wasn’t squeamish… normally. But she’d never had surgery before and had no idea what to expect.
