Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Kiran wrapped his strong arms around Nadia and held her. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, vibrating against hers.
“I’m so sorry,” she muttered into his clothing. She repeated her sentiment until another wave of tears washed over her.
“Nadia,” he said softly. “I understand.”
Nadia took another big breath and then stepped out of his grasp, hiding her face from him as she wiped at the wetness on her cheeks. She was tired of crying. Tired of feeling shattered. Tired of it all.
“You shouldn’t,” she said as she looked out the kitchen window. “I should’ve called. Someone should’ve called you. You had a right to be there. To say goodbye to him. I took that away, and I don’t even have a valid excuse as to why.”
“I’m not angry, Nadia.”
“You should be.”
Their gazes met. “Why? So I could say words to him that he wouldn’t hear? So I could tell him how I should’ve been there, with him, but bailed at the last minute because I didn’t want to run? I have a lot of guilt right now, Nadia. I can’t help but think that if I was there, maybe it’d be me you’d be mourning and not him. That his girls”—Kiran paused and pointed to the other room—“wouldn’t be missing their daddy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I have nothing to lose,” he told her. “I don’t have a wife waiting for me or two little girls who need me. Bachelor life here,” he said as he pointed to his chest. “If I hadn’t gone out the night before, I wouldn’t have been hungover, and I would’ve been there.”
“Kiran—”
He held his hand up. “It’s my guilt, and I need to live with it. Whatever guilt you have about not calling me, let it go. I honestly didn’t deserve to be there.”
“Don’t say that. He would’ve wanted you there.”
“I appreciate you saying that, and maybe someday I will believe it. Right now . . .” He shook his head.
“Kiran,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t have guilt over something you couldn’t have prevented. Rafe did what Rafe always did.” Even as Nadia spoke, the word “hero” popped into her mind. As much as she didn’t want it to be true, Rafe was a hero. This still didn’t mean she wanted his efforts broadcasted or brought up again next year. Or the year after. She and her family needed to heal. They needed to find some semblance of normal, and that wouldn’t exist if they had a constant reminder of the man they’d lost.
“Mommy?” Lynnea came into the kitchen, interrupting Kiran and Nadia. Lynnea beckoned her mother to come to her level. Nadia knelt and then found herself smiling at what Lynnea said to her.
Nadia remained crouching. “You can ask him.”
Lynnea leaned into her mother and rested her head on her shoulder, almost knocking Nadia over. “Do you want a brownie?” she asked Kiran.
He squatted, bringing himself to eye level with Lynnea. He reached out and touched the hem of her shirt. Kiran had uncle status in the house but had yet to develop a close bond with Lynnea. He was closer to Gemma, being that she was older and would often go places with Rafe when Kiran was around.
“Did you make them?”
Lynnea shook her head.
“No? Who did?”
“Grandma Cleo,” she said after taking her thumb out of her mouth, and then it went right back in. Nadia frowned at the sight, knowing it wasn’t going to be an easy habit to break. Nor tackle. If sucking her thumb brought her daughter comfort, she’d leave it for the time being. Besides, she had more pressing issues to deal with, like planning a funeral, which could wait until tomorrow.
“You know, I think I’d like one.”
Lynnea ground her face into Nadia’s neck and then pushed away from her mother. Lynnea took Kiran’s hand and led him out of the kitchen. He turned, gave Nadia one last look, and smiled softly at her.
Nadia leaned against the cupboard and slid the rest of the way down until she sat on the cold, hard floor. She listened to her family, their chatter and laughter, in the other room and wondered when she’d laugh again. Not a chuckle here or there, but a full-on belly laugh that brought happy tears and side aches. The kind of laugh you told your friends about. The kind you shared with someone special.
Her someone special was gone. Her rock. The person she counted on the most. Never in her wildest dreams did she think at thirty-five she’d be a widow with two small children, having to learn to live without a partner.
ELEVEN
NADIA
It had been a week and one day since Nadia had last heard Rafe’s voice. Since he’d last told her he loved her, kissed her, held her in his arms. She’d gone through a barrage of emotions. Sadness, loneliness, longing, and anger. This one, along with complete and utter heartbreak, was at the forefront of her feelings. Not a second had gone by when she hadn’t thought of her husband. Alive and vivacious to cold and dead. Every time she pictured the love of her life, she saw him as she last had, in a bed with wires and machines keeping him alive. All she saw was the double doors that had swallowed him as she stood there, watching as the doctors wheeled him away to harvest his organs.