Page 107 of The Encore’s Crown

We'd gone to dinner. We'd made it through an entire evening without arguing about schedules, flights, marriage, or whether I was avoiding her calls. Back at my hotel, she laid naked in my arms with her head resting against my chest. Her nails moved gently along my hairline, then into my scalp, combing through my hair in slow passes.

It was one of my favorite things she did. I could fall asleep beneath her hands in seconds. Every ugly thought in my head went quiet when she touched me that way. For a few minutes, I let myself believe we were back in that diner at four in the morning. Back in India beneath clouds of color. Back before every conversation became a demand for an answer I didn’t have. She looked up at me and I looked down at her and smiled.

“If we ever had a baby,” she whispered, touching my face, “I’d want them to have your eyes.”

She said it lightly. Almost absentmindedly. Nothing more than a thought passing through her mind while her fingers played with my hair, but it made my entire body go cold.

A baby. Ours.

I closed my eyes, then pulled away from her hand and checked the time even though I had nowhere to be.

“What?” she asked.

I sat up and reached for my jeans.

“Kiri?”

I stepped into them.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed.”

“I can see that. Why?”

I found my shirt on the floor and dragged it over my head. Behind me, the sheets shifted.

“You’re always talking about marriage or kids,” I said. “Every fucking time we’re together now.”

I turned. Radhika was sitting upright against the pillows, the sheet gathered loosely around her waist. Hurt moved across her face, followed quickly by fury.

“I made one comment.”

“It’s never one comment.”

“It was a passing thought.”

“They’re all passing thoughts until I don’t give you the answer you want.”

She threw the sheet aside and climbed out of bed. Even furious, even naked, she was breathtaking. Every perfect curve moving as she crossed the room, arms flung outward in disbelief. Usually, the sight of her like that would have erased every thought in my head but not this time. The fear was louder.

“Are you seriously leaving?” she demanded. “In the middle of the night?”

“I need air.”

“We barely have time together as it is.”

“Exactly.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re never here with me anymore.”

Her mouth fell open.

“I'm standing right in front of you.”

“Yeah. You’re standing here thinking about five years from now. Ten years. Rings and houses and kids. You’re never just here.”