It’s the most casual of touches. Nothing, really, compared to all that we’ve done, but it sets my nerves on fire.
“A new hire?” I repeat.
“Yeah.” Nikhil smiles. “Someone really wise pointed out I have a problem accepting help. I’d never put that together, but I mentioned it to Elizabeth, and she almost laughed. She reminded me that she’d offered to help with the grant stuff before, and that she’d sent me résumés of volunteers she knew who were looking for part-time paid work, but I’d always shrugged her off. When I decided to keep the place, I realized just how much help I needed, so Ihired one of the people Elizabeth mentioned. I don’t have the funds for a whole crew, but something is better than nothing.Anyway, he took my car to pick up some more supplies, but he’ll be back soon.”
I nod, my throat growing tight. “I’m so happy you did that.”
A pleased flush spreads across his cheeks, and I want to say more. I want to tell him how proud I am of him for not giving up on the inn, for accepting help, for working so hard to make it all come true. Even if I’d never come back, he would have been right here, steadily working toward his goals.
I know that’s a good thing, but I can’t help but feel a little conflicted. In all my imaginings of this moment, I had a role to play. I was part of all of this. I was part of helping Nikhil get the inn back. But he doesn’t need me for that, and now, I don’t know where I fit into any of this.IfI fit in.
Anxiety thrums through my veins, increasing my heartbeat.
Fortunately, Nikhil doesn’t seem to notice my inner turmoil. He leads us out onto the dock, and we take a seat at the end of it, our legs dangling off the edge, both of us facing the water, my hand still tucked into his.
“I spent years thinking about this,” Nikhil says, breaking the silence between us. “Of you coming back here one day. I’d imagined that when you did come back, I’d have something, some successful business of some kind. I thought if I became someone, maybe I could find you. Maybe I’d go back to D.C. and actually have something to offer you. But…” He stops, turning to look back at the house over his shoulder, a tinge of embarrassment on his face.
I lift a hand, cupping his cheek, forcing his gaze back to me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you had to prove something like that, because you didn’t, Nikhil. You never needed tobecomesomeone. I didn’t need you to be anyone else back then, and I hate that I made you feel like I did.” I take a deep breath.“Hiding you from my family, from everyone, it had so much more to do with me than it did with you.”
His body goes stiff beside me, but I continue.
“Really. It did. I cared too much about what my parents would think. I cared too much about disappointing them, about being judged by them, and all their friends. The way they’d all judged my sister. I worried that they wouldn’t love me anymore. I worried they’d think I was a failure. ThatIwas a failure. Not you, Nikhil. It was never about you. I…I felt so ashamed. Every day. You were working so hard, working extra hours, and taking care of everything, and I couldn’t contribute. I was helpless. I wasn’t supposed to mess up like that. I wasn’t supposed to fail. I wasn’t supposed to be that person. I didn’t know what to do.”
He watches me for a moment, and his expression softens, compassion and understanding clear in his gaze.
“Meena,” he says softly. “No one expects you to be perfect. I don’t. You’re allowed to mess up. You’re allowed to be a full human person. You’re allowed to fail. And none of that”—his eyes flare, bright and intense—“none of that would ever make me stop loving you. Ever.
“And you weren’t the only one who didn’t know what they were doing.Ididn’t know what I was doing. I…I knew you were struggling and I didn’t know how to reach you. How to help. You were going through so much with the bar and your family, and I wanted to just be…fun. The easy part of your life. I didn’t want to come home and dump all my stuff on you. All the stress I had with work and the long hours and how I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it anymore. I didn’t want to tell you any of that and make you feel worse. I didn’t want to tell you that I had other dreams and thought about doing something else one day. I didn’t want to give you a reason toleave me. I thought you had enough reasons already. But…hiding everything I was going through, hiding how I felt about things, it wasn’t fair to you.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “I didn’t understand why you were shutting me out,” I finally say.
Pain flashes through his eyes. “I didn’t know I was. I didn’t know I was making you feel that way.”
“I mean, I can understand why you kept those things to yourself. I didn’t then, but now I understand how you felt. It’s just…I wanted you to confide in me. I wanted to share the load where I could. I wanted to help.”
He pushes a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “I wanted that too. I wanted to do that for you too.”
I lick my lips, my mouth feeling dry. “And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t share those things with me. If I made you feel like my dreams…like the things I wanted were more important. If you felt like I…steamrolled over you and—”
He winces. “I said that, didn’t I? Or something like that.”
I nod.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you were leaving me behind. I was hurt and angry and once you passed and had what you needed, I felt like you could leave and go to D.C., that you didn’t need me anymore and—”
“I needed you, Nikhil. I’ve always needed you.” I swallow, looking down at the dock. I rub my fingers against the grain of the wood. “And you were right. At least partially. I know I was so laser-focused on the things I wanted back then, but the things you wanted matter too. But I’m so happy you’re working toward what you want now. That you decided to keep this place.” I pause. “Though you seemed so sure about selling it before. I don’t…What made you change your mind?”
He looks back at the house for a moment, then leans toward me, tilting my chin up until our eyes meet.
His are misty and shining, the flecks of gold there burning bright. “I figured nothing’s ever too far gone,” he says softly. “That some things are worth rebuilding. Even if it means rebuilding them from the ground up.”
My heart squeezes, and then he brushes his lips against mine.
This kiss contains everything we’ve said to each other and everything we haven’t. Apologies from him to me. From me to him. And at some point, seconds or minutes later, there’s forgiveness too. Traveling both ways. Settling deep inside of us. Healing old wounds. Clearing out leftover debris. Creating space to build something new.
My arms fly around his neck, and something rough rubs against my skin. A faint memory strikes me, of the last time we kissed. I’d thought I’d felt something around his neck before. Something rough and abrasive. A chain or necklace of some kind.
