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Guiltscissored through him again and he sighed.Alltrails of thought led back to kissingFrancesca.Hereally needed to stop thinking about it.Later, he’d go for another run as a form of therapy.Andhe’d stop cancelling plans withJess.Twonights in a row, he had claimed to have too much work to do.Hecouldn’t keep avoiding her.Hell, he was planning to propose to her in a week.
Thatgave him seven days to get his head in order.He’dstay away fromFrancesca.Hecould work from home.He’djust pop into the office tomorrow to get his drives, and then he could retouch at his kitchen table until they left forParisonFridaymorning.OnSaturdaynight he would propose.
Anintrusive thought sliced through the noise: was he ready for this?Whatif he postponed the proposal?
Yes, it would be a massive pain to reschedule everything, and he’d probably lose a lot of money, but was it fair to ask one woman to marry him when another was filling his senses?
Marriagewas a big step.
Hisparents had provided a healthy model of the institution: they’d been married for over 35 years, and they never fought.Ifhe had to describe their union, he would label it calm.Andrespectful.
Hecould have that withJess.Shesymbolised stability and trust and longevity.That’swhat he wanted.Itwould be smooth sailing with someone like her.They’dget married.They’dhave kids.They’dgrow old.
Francesca, on the other hand…he imagined life with her would never be dull, but it would also never be smooth.Herchangeable nature didn’t presage a long and happy marriage, did it?Thislust he felt for her…it was temporary.Andthere was still the niggling suspicion he had that she hadn’t been 100% honest with him.
No,Jesswas the right choice.
Oncehe had that ring on her finger, everything would fall into place.Decisionmade.
Afew hours later,Connorsaid the magic words: ‘That’sa wrap.’Krishwas glad to be getting out of there.He’denduredChef’sendless monologue comparing women unfavourably to various items of food.They’dhad chocolate cake (tastes good but no good for you), artichokes (prickly on the outside, but hiding a delicious centre), and fish tacos.Krishdidn’t even want to think about that one.Again,Krishmarvelled thatChefhad been married five times.Hehoped the women managed good divorce settlements.
Nowthat he had a plan of action regardingFrancescaandJess, the tension melted away.Withrenewed purpose, he packed upConnor’sequipment and loaded it into the van.Hecircled back around the restaurant to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind.Atthe rustic wooden bar, he foundConnorflicking through the images on his laptop,Chefhovering over his shoulder.
‘You’rea fucking talented cunt,’Chefsaid toConnor. ‘Withthat pretty face,I’dmarry you myself if you weren’t a bloke.’
‘Inthat case,I’venever been happier to be a man,’ saidConnor.Krishsuspected he was not even half joking.Connorclosed his computer, andChef, chuckling, returned to his stainless steel kitchen.
ClockingKrish,Connorchecked his watch and said, ‘Let’sget moving.Stellawants me home by seven.Saysshe wants to talk to me about something.’
Krishhad a feeling he knew what it was, but just to play along, he said, ‘Soundsserious.’
‘I’msure it’s nothing.Eventhough she’s been acting a little off lately.’
Itwas the perfect opening forKrishto share that he thoughtStellawas finding it hard being on her own all the time.Heopened his mouth, but before he could say anything,Chef’svoice interrupted, ‘Whenmy wives acted strange it was either because they found outI’dcheated on them again or it was that time of the month.Ha!Youknow what they say about women withPMS: they’re like a soufflé…full of eggs, but if you beat her, she’ll still go down.’
WhenKrishthought back to this moment, he couldn’t recall how it happened.WhatChefsaid hadn’t even made sense.
Butone second he was standing next toConnor, and the next, he was holdingChefby the lapel of his whites, his other arm pulled back and tensed for a swing.Theonly thing stopping him wasConnorholding him back and hissing urgently, ‘Krish!KRISH!Standdown.’
Redclouded his vision, and all he wanted to do was makeChef’sugly face even uglier.Aftera day of being forced to listen toChef’santi-woman, anti-gay, anti-everything comments,Krishwas at the end of his tether.Andmaking fun of women withPMShit too close to home for him to ignore.
Connor’svoice slowly found its way through the angry haze. ‘Krish, come on.Leaveit.’
Aflame of anger atConnorflared.Howcould he let this arsehole get away with the comments he’d made?Especiallywhen they were directed at his wife?
Krishunfurled his hand fromChef’swhite uniform and unclenched his fist.Hestepped back.
‘Whatthe fuck?’Chefprotested, regaining his bravado as he shrugged his uniform back into place. ‘Hita nerve, didI?Somebody’sgot to put his big boy pants on.’
ConnorpushedKrishfurther away fromChef. ‘Youokay?’
Nottrusting himself to speak,Krishjust nodded.
SqueezingKrish’sshoulder,Connorturned toChef.
Theman’s face was even redder than normal, the maze of broken veins on his nose practically glowing under the tungsten light of the bar.PointingtowardsKrish, he said, ‘Don’tbring that pussy to any more of my shoots.’
Excepthe didn’t say pussy, but anotherPword.Krishalmost laughed atChef’spuerile attempt at insult: the age old fallback position of the feeble mind, resorting to racial slurs.Nobodycan hurt you without your permission,Krish’sfather always said, quotingGandhi.
