The Chai Factor
Page 31
Amira blinked a few times, then exhaled. “I am sorry your brother has issues with addiction. And I get why you stay with him.” She understood better than she did before. After all, she was still living with Nanima, and Nanima hadn’t exactly changed her tune either. But Duncan should have told her about Ryan. “But I don’t understand how you could have kept it from me after I told you what I went through.”
Duncan was silent a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said. He looked at her face briefly before looking down at his hands again. “I was afraid if I told you about my family, you’d hate me. I saw the way you reacted to my friend Dale that night, and . . . I have no excuse. I should have talked to you about it. But . . .” He lowered his voice. “The more time we spent together, I . . . was crazy about you, and I didn’t want you to have another thing to hate about me.”
Amira blinked. She hadn’t exactly been subtle about her disdain for Duncan at the beginning. And that night when they met Dale, Amira had egged the guy on a bit. Duncan may not have realized how seriously she took these things.
If Duncan had told her about Ryan, what would she have done? She would have been pissed off at Duncan, that’s what would have happened. She probably would have held his family’s views against him.
But she would have been able to protect her sister from it better. And she would have been able to talk to him about his family’s prejudice. She would have helped him see that these issues were bigger than he saw them to be. And then she would have fallen in love with him anyway. Duncan was a good man. A great man. Caring, generous, and understanding.
But at least her eyes would have been open about what their future held.
“I don’t blame you at all, Amira. I was a coward,” he continued. “I should have told you before getting involved with you. I never imagined Maddie would do something like that to Zahra. But . . . I hope now you understand why I live with them. I’m sorry.”
“You came here looking for forgiveness?”
His eyes met hers, and they were the sincerest she had ever seen on him. “No. Like you told Ryan, you have no obligation to forgive me. I don’t want you to. But I still needed to apologize.”
Amira watched his face for several long seconds, unsure of what to say. “What do you want from me, then?”
Eyes pleading, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe your friendship back? Maybe your help and guidance on how to keep my promise to Maddie while not excusing Ryan anymore? I . . .” He trailed off, looking at his fingers. “I’m moving out.”
“What?”
“I got that music teacher job. I’m moving to Peterborough.”
Amira caught her breath. “Congratulations. But . . . you’re not moving out because of this, are you? Doesn’t Maddie still need you?”
“Yes, she does. But I’ll only be twenty minutes away. I need to get out of that town. Put some distance between me and my family. But I’ll still be in Maddie’s life. Peterborough is bigger—I’ll be able to expose her to so much there.” He paused awhile before speaking quietly. “Plus, I want to be able to have my friends visit me. Sameer and Travis, Barrington, and even you?”
She thought for a bit before answering. “We can’t exactly pick up where we left off.”
“I know. And we can’t start over either.”
“No. There’s no magical button to press that can make me forget.”
“No,” he said, looking down at his feet. “You’re right.” He stood up. “Thank you for listening to me, though. I really appreciate that, but I’ll go now.”
He started to walk towards the door.
“Wait, Duncan.”
He turned back.
“Come here,” she said softly.
He walked towards her before falling to his knees, hands folded in his lap. His eyes were fathomless, deep-green chasms swirling with regret and pain.
She blinked, feeling a sharp prick behind her eyeballs. When she looked at him again, the same glassiness was reflected in his eyes.
This was impossible. How could they both feel so much after so short a time?
“Why is this so hard?” she whispered. “We barely knew each other. Ending it should have been easier.”
“Nothing’s been easy since the moment I met you,” he said. “You’ve tied me in knots since you sat across from me that day on the train.”
“You tied yourself up for me—once.”
A small smile snuck onto his face as his pupils widened. He chuckled lightly. “You always made me laugh. I miss that.”
She reached out and touched his cheek, his soft beard tickling her hand. He leaned into her touch.
She closed her eyes. She wanted so much to bend down and rub her cheek against his. To kiss those soft lips until they could drown out all the culture and expectations, and families and prejudices. She wished all of it was just noise that they could ignore.
“I don’t want to walk away from you again,” she whispered. “But I don’t know how to walk forward.”
She lowered her head with a sigh, their foreheads meeting with a light touch. “I can’t abandon them, I’m sorry,” he said.
She sat up straight again, breaking all contact between them. “I haven’t asked you to.”
“I know. But I’m not going to let this slide anymore either. Maddie needs me more than ever. She needs someone to take her to the ballet, to let her taste goat biryani, and show her there is a whole world outside her little corner. I can’t change my brother, or my parents, by cutting off contact with them. I want to show them what real love is.”
Amira raised her head as a sharp prickle hit her sinuses. Duncan rested his hands on her knees, pressing the soft fleece of her robe against her sensitive skin.
He locked his gaze on her. “Amira, I think . . . no, I know I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I can’t forget you, and I’ve been doing nothing but kicking my own ass for screwing up my chances. You’re right—we can’t start over. We can’t forget. I don’t deserve another chance, but I’d like one anyway.”
They were so different. There were huge barriers between them. Religion. Culture. Career choices. Geographical distance, too. Not to mention both of them knew exactly how to piss the other off. It would be an uphill battle, but maybe their perfect harmony inside would overcome all the differences.
But hate. That was a bigger problem. Being with Duncan would mean fighting against more hate. Did she want to do that anymore?
Amira squeezed her lips together. Maybe she just needed a new approach. She had tried fighting with anger. She had tried fighting with avoidance. None of that had worked—hate still destroyed her.
Maybe it was time to start fighting with love.
And who knows? There was always that job in Peterborough.
She pressed closer to him, nuzzling his cheek before sliding off the armchair to her knees in front of him. He sighed as his arms wrapped around her waist, locking them together.
He held her tightly, his lips finding her neck. “Are you sure?”
She inhaled deeply. That clean smell of soap, beard oil, and Duncan; she hadn’t realized how much she missed a smell until she had it back.
“Yes. We’re going to fight for us.”
She could feel him smile against her as he nestled into her. “I really hope you aren’t going to say we should take it nice and slow to start . . .” He mouthed kisses along her neck, gently nudging her bathrobe open in the process.
She giggled. “When have I ever been anything resembling nice?” she asked, stretching her neck to allow him better access.
He laughed, the deep rumble reverberating through her. “God, I’ve missed you.” He began pawing at her robe, trying to get it out of the way.
She laughed, feeling light-headed. “Don’t you have a gig soon? I’m sure you have to be there before me.”
“I have an hour.”
She smiled as she caught his mouth in a kiss . . . a deep, hard, long kiss. The beard was shorter, but it still tickled her fa
ce. His strong body still felt like home. She was going to stay here forever.
He finally pulled away and murmured, “Can we go to your room?”
She smiled as she stood. “Yes, we have time.” Amira untied her bathrobe as she walked, and then pulled the soft fleece belt out of its loops. She held it out to him. “We’re going to need this, farm boy . . .”
He smiled wryly, green eyes focused on her. Seeing her. “Lead the way, Buttercup.”
Acknowledgements
I’ve been a story creator all my life. My daydreams were bloated with complicated plot twists and fleshed-out characters, but those tales never left the comfort of my mind. It was only three years ago that I finally started writing down the stories swirling through my head, and it’s simply amazing that today I am now writing the acknowledgements for my first novel. I am so grateful for the opportunity to thank those who helped me reach this dream.
First, to my editor at HarperCollins Canada, Jennifer Lambert, who not only took a chance on my silly little book about a bunch of singers but who also saw my vision for this story better than even I could. I am endlessly grateful for her guidance and kindness. Thank you to Iris Tupholme and the entire team at HarperCollins Canada. I am so happy The Chai Factor has so much support behind it.
Thank you to my agent, Rachel Brooks, whose editorial advice and determination to find this book its perfect home were invaluable. I am so happy to have such a talented partner in my writing career. And thank you to Beth Phelan for the amazing #DVPit program, which allowed me to connect with literary agents who not only support but champion diversity in publishing.
Thank you to those who helped me with the little details in this book, including the beta readers and critique friends who looked at early drafts and queries. Thank you to Sonali Dev and Falguni Kothari for helping translate my words into beautiful Hindi poetry for my favourite scene. And thank you to Zoe York for coming up with my book’s fabulous title over a Thai dinner. Thank you to my brilliant friend Aye Nyein San, who helped me sound like I knew what the hell I was talking about with regards to engineering and academics. And thank you to Nika Rylski, who facilitated a workshop on writing romantic comedies for Toronto Romance Writers, during which I first jotted down the premise for this book.
As an introverted South Asian Muslim, I wasn’t sure there was a place for me in the romance industry. I’d like to thank the 2017 board of directors of the Romance Writers of America, and especially Tessa Dare, for not only making sure I knew I belonged, but for figuratively pulling up a chair to the table for me and welcoming me to the national conference.
To Roselle Lim, my release-day sister from another mister, and the person I turn to when publishing makes me anxious, thank you. I can’t think of another person, or book, that I’d rather share this day with. And thank you to Alisa Kwitney, the absolute best conference roommate in existence, and to Laura Heffernan, for always being my biggest cheerleader.
To the fabulous writers in my Twitter chat group: Tif Marcelo, Sheryl Nantus, A.S. Fenichel, Naima Simone, Mina Beckett, Laura Brown, Juliette Cross, Robin Lovett, and Mona Shroff. You ladies are always there for me, and whether we’re talking about books or butts, I know I can count on you for laughs and unconditional support.
To my amazing peers at Toronto Romance Writers, I feel so lucky to have found my local writers’ clan so early. And an extra thank you to Jackie Lau, Fallon DeMornay, and Alana Delacroix, who I can always count on when I need a laugh, a hug, a sounding board, or someone to share a drink with to celebrate successes.
Thank you to the bravest and most loving people I know, my parents, Nazir and Shahida Pirani. Their steady support through whatever new endeavour I take on has been such a blessing. And thank you to the rest of my family and friends who have gifted me with so much support and encouragement, especially my sister, Alya, my mother-in-law, Judi, and my sister-in-law, Meredith.
To my inspiration and my biggest joys, my spectacularly awesome kids, Khalil and Anissa. Thank you for being my live-in brainstorming buddies, and thank you for putting up with a few too many frozen pizza dinners.
And finally, to my husband, Tony. We are not the characters in this book, but I can’t deny that I was inspired by our connection. A city girl and a country boy of different races, religions, and tolerances to cold weather. We’ve thrived for twenty-two years thanks to unending encouragement, support, and, best of all, lots of laughter. This one’s for you, babe.
About the Author
FARAH HERON is a Toronto writer with a varied career history, with jobs ranging from selling yarn to working in the high-end fashion industry, and finally to counselling high-risk youth. An unapologetic, outspoken feminist, Farah Heron tells stories that reflect the diversity in her own life as she explores how women thrive in an uncertain world.
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Copyright
The Chai Factor
Copyright © 2019 by Farah Heron.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Published by Harper Avenue, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
COVER IMAGES: SHUTTERSTOCK
FIRST EDITION
EPub Edition: JUNE 2019 EPub ISBN: 978-1-4434-5765-1
Version 05022019
Print ISBN: 978-1-4434-5764-4
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