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“Aren’t we Rash?”
Her head lifted, eyes shooting sparks. “I guess we are,” she replied, her voice enviably calm given the fact her fingers were pulling apart the comforter frantically.
Ram’s gaze darted between the two of them. “This isn’t going to go away. There is no fast divorce happening in a short period of time if that is where you’re going with this.”
“But there are slow ones, right?” Raashi quipped, sending him a sly look.
Harsh would have enjoyed watching Ram’s head explode in slow motion if it wasn’t for the fact that he was feeling more than a little strange himself with Raashi’s comment. He didn’t want to get married so why did he care if she was considering a divorce?
Ram shook his head and took a deep breath. “Since you two have stitched yourselves into this situation, I’m going to leave it to both of you to figure your way out of it. And I will be downstairs, drinking myself into a calmer frame of mind.”
He pushed to his feet and walked to the door, stopping with his hand on the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder at his sister.
“Fast or slow, Raash. You want out, you’ve got it,” he said quietly. “All you need to do is tell me what and when.”
He opened the door wide, propping it up with a footstool. “This door stays open,” he added, glaring at Harsh.
“Dude.” Harsh put his hands up in the air in surrender. “You have my word there will be no hanky panky.”
“Are you a fifty-year-old man on the inside?” Raashi asked, side eyeing him. “Maybe on the outside too. I’ve heard plastic surgeons work miracles nowadays.”
“Don’t judge us all by your own low standards, darling. Not that I blame you for the work you’ve had done.” Harsh patted Raashi’s stiff knee. God, she was all hard angles. “We all aren’t born effortlessly gorgeous like yours truly.”
Ram laughed. “And now I feel more comfortable leaving you two alone.”
Harsh watched the empty doorway Ram had disappeared through and wondered if he could just follow him out of this uncomfortably tense bedroom. He’d find Ram and alcohol, both something he liked.
Instead, he pulled up his big boy pants and turned to look at his fiancée. God that word stuck like a thorn in his chest, making it hard to take a full breath. He had a fiancée. And soon, he’d have a wife. Something he swore he’d never have.
Even more incredible was the fact that the wife was going to be Raashi Gadde. His wife was going to be Raashi Gadde. Come to think of it, her bedroom was freezing cold. He wouldn’t be surprised if he along with the things in her bedroom started to turn to ice soon. So, clearly hell was freezing over. So, why couldn’t Raashi Gadde be his wife?
“You didn’t reply to my message,” he told her, flopping back on the bed purposely encroaching into her personal space. Dick move, he knew, but he couldn’t resist pushing her buttons.
“I didn’t,” she acknowledged tartly. “Shouldn’t that have been a large enough hint for you?”
“I’m the dumb one, sweetheart,” he drawled. “Subtle hints are not going to get through to me.”
“Bullshit,” she muttered. Surprising him, she lay down beside him, not bothering to edge away from him.
Harsh turned his head to the side, taking in her elfin profile. Her eyes were on the ceiling, long lashes fanning out and looking like they could lift her into the air if she batted them once.
“Bullshit?” he asked. “Which bit?”
Raashi turned on her side, facing him, her direct, clear eyes meeting his. “You are not dumb. Never have been, Kodela. So, you can stop playing into the dumb blonde stereotype.”
His heart started a slow, erratic pound in his chest. “My hairstylist called the colour of my highlights caramel brown. Blonde doesn’t really work with my skin tone.”
“Was it dyslexia?” she asked, the word dropping like a massive rock on the fragile pretense that was his life.
“Don’t worry, Viper,” he smirked, forcing the words out through the thunderous thrumming of his pulse. “We’re not going to have kids so you don’t have to worry that you might have stupid kids.”
“I know you had a learning disability,” she continued quietly, completely unmoved by his nastiness. “My first guess was dyslexia because of the comments about you not being able to read. If it’s not dyslexia, I’m leaning towards-“
“It is.” The admission loosened the rubber band that was constricting his chest. “It is.”
He’d never said the words out aloud. Not once. But looking into Raashi’s big, dark eyes, his secret came tumbling out. Something that looked an awful lot like compassion softened her gaze.
“Your family doesn’t know?” she asked softly.
