His smile had returned then, and I hadn’t been able to stop the goofy grin spreading across my face. His mouth had met mine, and his hand had threaded through my hair, his body suddenly flush against my own. Kissing Nikhil had always been electric. Every nerve of my body had sparked to life in a way I had never experienced before. I’d thought that connection between us was love, but…maybe all this chemistry between us is just attraction. Hormones and chemicals tricking our brains. Maybe that’s all the artist had captured in that sketch. Lust and infatuation and the adrenaline high of doing something reckless and impulsive.
Maybe that’s all last night was. Maybe that’s all that’s ever been between us.
I don’t know where that picture is now. I haven’t seen it anywhere. He probably got rid of it years ago, which would make sense. There’s no reason he should have kept a reminder of the two of us hanging in his living room forever, but I am curious why he’s left it like this. Completely bare. Why he hasn’t hung anything in its place.
I go back to my work emails, reviewing a couple things I missed.As I read, I hear Nikhil in the garage, his power tools at full volume, and the sound is just as comforting now as it was back then.
Nikhil’s phone vibrates, and a text from Elizabeth flashes across the screen. I pick it up, slightly pleased to have an excuse to head to the garage. Once there, I knock on the door.
Something buzzy and electric sounds in response. I knock harder, and the noise stops.
“Nikhil?” I call. “Can I come in?”
A few seconds later, the door swings open, and Nikhil stands there with plastic safety glasses perched on top of his head.
I smirk. “Those are cute.”
“They’re not supposed to be,” he says with a grin. “They’re for safety.”
“You always were a bit of a nerd about safety.”
“And you always were a bit of a nerd about everything.”
I laugh. “Well, that’s certainly true.”
“I liked it,” he says. “Just to be clear. I’ve always liked that about you.”
We watch each other, and slowly the light, teasing note in the air begins to shift. His smile fades, and his throat flexes as he swallows. “Meena, we should probably talk—”
The phone in my hand buzzes, and I quickly thrust it in his direction. “Elizabeth texted,” I say. “That’s why I came to find you.”
He takes it from me, barely glancing at the screen before putting it in his back pocket. “Oh,” he says. “Thanks.” He takes a step back, hesitates, then asks, “You want to see what I’m working on?”
“I…Yeah. Sure.”
I follow after him, and as he opens and roots around in one of the drawers, I take in how much the workshop has changed since I last saw it. Even though I’d been in the garage earlier, when we’d grabbed the canoe for our rescue mission, I hadn’t really been payingattention to my surroundings. I’d been a ball of energy and adrenaline and fear, and everything had been a blur.
Now I take my time, inventorying everything. He’s added a few new pieces of equipment. I’m not sure of their purpose, but I know to stay far away from them. I rarely spent time in here while he was working, but Nikhil had still insisted on showing me all of the machinery. He’d walked me through each piece, explaining its function, and giving me a basic safety lesson. I’d told him I never planned on using them, but he said I still needed to know so I could be careful. He didn’t want to see me get hurt.
There’s a stack of textbooks on the side table in the corner, brightly colored tabs and index cards sticking out of them in various directions.
My heart squeezes. He’s using the study techniques I used for the bar, the ones we did together.
Nikhil finally finds what he’d been looking for and comes over to me.
“You’ll need to put these on,” he says, showing me a matching pair of glasses.
I scrunch my nose. “Is this because I made fun of yours?”
“No,” he says, a corner of his mouth rising. He steps closer, gently pushing the glasses onto my face. I go still as he adjusts them, making sure they’re secure. His fingers brush against my temple, and his golden brown eyes meet mine. His expression is so open, care and tenderness floating right at the surface. It makes my chest ache.
“No,” he says again, still smiling. “They’re to keep you safe. Just in case you want to take a stab at this.” He gestures to his worktable, and I walk over, my curiosity piqued.
“It’s a sign,” he tells me. “A welcome sign for the inn. I’m hoping to hang it on the porch, or maybe in the lobby. I’m not sure what it’ll say yet exactly. I haven’t decided on a name for the inn, but Ithought I could carve the ‘welcome’ part at least.” He lifts a shoulder. “I had this spare piece of wood lying around and I didn’t want to waste it.”
Something within me warms. That’s just like Nikhil. Turning scraps into something meaningful. Taking pieces others would discard and transforming them into something new.
“I’ll just watch,” I say, as he reaches for the saw. I cover my ears as the electric buzzing starts up, and he rounds the edges of this square slab of wood.
