Love, Unexpectedly

by Susan Fox

  The memories were arousing, but damn it, I didn’t want to think of Nav that way.

  Not in the mood to dress up today, I put on jeans and a T-shirt. Then I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and strode through the sleeping cars to his fancy compartment.

  One of the things I’d wondered about while tossing and watching the moon was why Nav had done all this. The fancy wardrobe, the suite at the Royal York, the Romance by Rail package. I’d bet my photographer friend couldn’t have afforded those things without dipping into his trust fund. He’d said it was a matter of principle not to touch that fund, yet now he had. Just so we could indulge our mutual attraction without jeopardizing our friendship?

  Hoping he was in his compartment and I wouldn’t have to search the train for him, I knocked firmly on the door. “Nav? It’s Kat.”

  From inside I heard a clatter, “Damn,” and then the door opened. “Kat?”

  I stared at him. Barefoot, in jeans and the black V-neck sweater, his hair a mass of glossy curls and his face clean-shaven, he looked fabulous. A very classy version of my old friend.

  A very sexy one, too, unfortunately.

  “Kat, I’m so glad you came.”

  I stepped past him into the room, nervous and wishing I knew what to say. His laptop lay on the floor, and I guessed that was the crash I’d heard. “Ouch.” I picked it up. “Hope it’s okay.” It had folded partway closed and I opened it gingerly.

  “Oh!” I was staring at the photograph of a gorgeous woman in a sari.

  He stepped to my side, reached for the computer. “Let me just—”

  I held on tight. “Who’s that?” Jealousy nipped at me. He’d just spent the past few days playing sexy games with me, and now he was gawking at another woman?

  “Another of what Mum calls the prospectives,” he said. “As in, a prospective bride. I picked up e-mail this morning and was going through it when you knocked.”

  “Oh.” I sank into the chair, holding the computer on my lap. I snuck another glance at the woman’s photo. Not only was she striking, but I could see intelligence in her face and a spark of humor. How could a guy resist a woman who looked like that?

  Of course, I reminded myself, Nav didn’t want to get married. I handed him the computer. “Why does your mom keep sending them?”

  He snapped it shut. “Hope springs eternal? She wants me to marry and give her grandkids. I keep telling her I’ll find my own wife.” He put the computer on the bed and sat down across from me.

  “Can’t you just be honest and tell her you’re not in the market for a wife?”

  “But I am.”

  I shook my head and tried to find the teasing tone I’d used with Nav in the past. “Yeah, sure. Says the man with the revolving-door dating policy. That’s not the behavior of a man who wants to get married.”

  His brows drew together. “Huh? Of course I’ve been dating. How else was I going to find a woman on my own, without parental help?”

  “I mean, you don’t date seriously. None of your girlfriends last more than a few weeks, unless it’s to become ‘just friends’ after you stop dating each other.”

  “Yeah, because it’s clear that, while we might like each other, it’s not going to turn into love,” he said indignantly. “I stop dating them because I want something serious.”

  He stared at me, a frown creasing his forehead. “Kat, haven’t you been listening? Whenever you’ve said you wanted to get married, I said I did, too.”

  But…he hadn’t meant it. Had he? Slowly, I said, “You said you were holding out for the perfect woman. I figured that was one of those wink-wink things, meaning you didn’t believe there was such a thing.”

  “You were wrong.” His expression was dead serious. “I do believe there’s a perfect woman for me. I want to marry her, have children with her, and love her until the day I die.”

  So Nav really did want to get married. To some phantom perfect woman. A woman like Margaret, and that other nameless woman he’d once loved.

  What woman could ever measure up to that expectation?

  And why did I feel as if I’d been betrayed?

  He’d never actually lied to me. In fact, he’d told me the truth. I just hadn’t heard it.

  And why was that? Maybe because, if I felt twinges of jealousy when he smorgasbord-dated, I hated to imagine how I’d feel if—when—he actually did fall in love.

  Not, of course, that I wanted him to fall in love with me. But, as his close friend, I’d seen myself as the significant woman in his life. If he fell in love, we could still be friends, but we’d never be as close. Some other woman would always come first.

  “If you get married, what happens to our friendship?” The words burst out of me in a combination of anger and fear.

  His expression was shuttered. “What happens to it if you get married, Kat? You always say you want to be married.”

  Damn, why had I never thought this through? Maybe because doing so hurt too much. Right now my heart ached miserably. “I do, but I want you in my life, too.”

  One corner of his mouth tilted up ruefully. “Uh-huh. So, either we have to marry each other—” He cocked an eyebrow.

  I wasn’t in the mood to be teased, so just heaved an unhappy sigh.

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. “Then our friendship will change.”

  “I don’t want that to happen.” I knew I sounded like a sullen, stupid child, but it was the truth.

  He reached out and took my hand, holding it gently. “It’s been great being neighbors and friends, but we both want love and marriage. It’s inevitable our friendship will change. And change can be a good thing, Kat. We could—”

  “No!” I didn’t want to hear it. “I liked things the way they were.” My heart ached so much that I raised my free hand to rub my chest.

  Nav caught my hand. Gripping both my hands in his, he stared into my eyes, his own chocolate ones intent and soulful. “A couple days ago, I made you a promise. I meant it then and I’ll always mean it. I’ll always be there for you. But I do want things to change.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. “I love you, Kat Fallon.”

  My heart leaped. For a moment I thought…

  But no, he meant it in the sense of loving a friend, and that was exactly the way I wanted him to mean it. We really would be friends forever. But he was right that things would change.

  A strange blend of happiness and sorrow choked my throat. Tears threatened, but I managed to say, “The same goes for me. I love you, too, Nav, as my best friend. I never want to lose you.”

  He studied my face and then a small, sad smile touched his lips. “I know.”

  Why did I feel as if my heart was cracking in two? Just because our friendship would change? Because another woman would become the most significant one in his life?

  Would become his wife?

  My eyes swam with tears.

  “I have to go,” I muttered, ducking my head as I stood and made for the door.

  I expected him to stop me. To say we needed to talk some more, or to pull me into a hug. Something.

  All I heard was the sound of a heavy sigh.

  I opened the door; glanced back. Saw him sitting on the bed, head bowed.

  Hurriedly I left, almost running down the corridor between the sleeping compartments, half blind from tears that I could barely manage to hold back.

  Once I reached the haven of my own tiny room, the tears washed down my cheeks. I flung myself into the chair, wishing the bunk was down so I could sprawl across it.

  After sobbing for a while, I forced myself to my feet and splashed cold water on my face, trying to still the flood of tears. Why was I reacting this way? Relationships changed over time, and Nav had said he’d always be in my life.

  But I wouldn’t see him as often. I wouldn’t be the first person he told when he got another exhibit, or made a major sale. He’d find that perfect woman, marry her, move away
and build a home with her. Have children with her.

  More tears escaped my eyes, and I rubbed my hand across my chest, trying to massage away the pain in my heart.

  When I got home from work tired and hungry, he wouldn’t be there to share pizza and a movie. When something wonderful or awful happened in my life, I could phone or e-mail him, but he wouldn’t be there to give me a hug.

  A hug…The thought of physical contact made me remember the ways we’d touched each other as lovers.

  The tears kept falling.

  Maybe it was just as well if he didn’t live next door. How could I look at him without remembering? Without knowing how truly sexy he was, and what an amazing, generous, inventive lover?

  How could I be with him without wanting more than friendship?

  I gave a ragged sob, and that brought me to my senses.

  This was crazy. We’d still be friends—after all, he’d said he loved me—and of course life had to change. It was time to stop being so damned melodramatic. A little sorrow was okay, but wallowing in self-pity wasn’t like me.

  I was on a train with hundreds of people. I needed to stop moping and go socialize. That always distracted me from my worries.

  With a plan of action in place, I finally managed to halt the tears.

  I rinsed my face over and over with cold water to reduce the tear-soaked puffiness. Eye makeup and concealer did a pretty good job of hiding any remaining damage, and bright lipstick would focus attention on my lips.

  As I walked toward the dining car, I hoped Nav wouldn’t be there. My fragile self-control wasn’t up to seeing him right now.

  At the entrance to the restaurant, I scanned the room, heart racing. No Nav. Not as Dhiraj, with his hair pulled back. Not as Nav, with his more casual look.

  Sam Wilbanks, the screenwriter, was at a table sitting across from two Australians I recognized from the dance floor last night. He glanced up and smiled at me, a smile that widened with surprise as I walked over to their table.

  The smile warmed my wounded heart a tiny bit. “Do you have room for one more?” I asked.

  “For you?” He stood up and offered me the chair beside him. “Of course.”

  As I sat, he took a closer look at my face and frowned slightly, making me think I hadn’t done such a great job with the makeup. But all he said was, “Kat, do you know Sally and Tom?”

  “Only from dancing to ABBA.” I forced a smile in response to their friendly ones and tried not to remember how much fun it had been to dance with…I tried to think of him as Dhiraj.

  No, even if he’d spun a tall tale about his job, had worn clothes that weren’t his usual style, he’d been Nav. I couldn’t fool myself any longer.

  The waiter came by to ask if I’d like a drink, and I ordered a glass of red wine.

  “I was just asking Sally and Tom how they came to make this trip,” Sam said.

  “There’s a group of you traveling together, isn’t there?” I tried to focus on the tanned, attractive pair rather than on my own problems.

  “Yeah, eight of us mates,” Tom said.

  “We all work for the same software company,” Sally said, “and we like hanging out together. Last year a gang of us went to Greece.”

  My wine came, then our waiter served gazpacho. I sipped wine and made a token effort to eat. Prompted by Sam, the Australians talked about their friends, work, travel plans.

  Usually I was the one with all the questions, the one who kept conversation flowing. Today, it was all I could do to force myself to listen, knowing that was preferable to dwelling on my own misery.

  “So,” Sam said to them, “you figure you’ll keep doing this every year? Going someplace new together?”

  “Can’t beat it,” Tom said, and Sally nodded vigorously.

  They weren’t much younger than me, but they sounded like kids. Like they were having so much fun and never planned to grow up. Didn’t they think about settling down? About marriage and kids?

  Nav was their age, and I’d thought he was like that, too. But I’d been wrong. He was more mature. He was gaining success in a competitive field of work and looking for a woman to share the rest of his life.

  I was cutting a crab cake into tiny sections and shuffling them around my plate when Sam turned to me. “How about you, Kat? Where are you from, and what brings you on this trip?”

  “I live in Montreal, and I’m traveling to Vancouver because one of my sisters is getting married.”

  “A younger or older sister?” Sally asked.

  “Younger.”

  “And you’re not married yourself?”

  A surge of emotion choked me, and all I could do was shake my head.

  Sally wrinkled her freckled nose. “My younger sister’s engaged, and I’m always getting flack from my family about still being single. But I figure, I’m having way too much fun to settle down. Right, Tom?” She nudged her companion in the ribs, and he grinned at her.

  Sally turned an expectant face toward me.

  No, I couldn’t talk about this now. Maybe I should just leave. I cleared my throat and managed to say, “I hear you, Sally,” then glanced around, wondering what excuse I could make for bailing in the middle of the meal.

  When I looked over my shoulder, there was Nav, his hair loose and curly, dressed the way he’d been when I left him. Across from him I saw a woman’s head with sleek black hair, and beside him was the perky activity director who’d been flirting with him during the drawing session with the kids. He didn’t notice me looking, because he was gazing intently at the blonde.

  It sure hadn’t taken him long to get over our…whatever it was, and find a couple of pretty women to talk to.

  If I left I’d have to walk past him.

  “Are you all right, Kat?” Sam leaned close to murmur in my ear so Sally and Tom wouldn’t hear. “You’ve barely touched your lunch.”

  I glanced at his handsome face, saw concern in his eyes.

  Time to put on my party hat. I knew how to do this. I forced a smile. “I had a touch of a stomach bug, so I’m being careful about food.” I hoped that would explain my red, swollen eyes as well.

  Raising my voice so the other two could hear, I said, “So, Sam what about you? You said you’re doing a screenplay for a movie. Tell us about it.”

  I did my best to be vivacious. Sam was entertaining, the Aussies were outgoing, and I forced myself to laugh at everyone’s stories. When the dessert plates had been cleared away, a couple more of the Australian group came to join the conversation, hanging out in the aisle.

  As a waiter struggled to get by, Sam said, “We’re in the way here. Why don’t we take the party to the lounge?”

  We all rose and, in a laughing, jostling group, headed for the exit.

  As we approached Nav’s table, I saw that people had swapped seats so the two women—the activity director and an attractive young Chinese woman—sat together, deep in conversation. Across from them were Nav and the little boy he’d been drawing with yesterday. Their heads were bent over a coloring book.

  He’d make a great father.

  He glanced up, and our gazes held for an instant. I thought he looked sad, just the way I felt. “Kat? Can we talk?”

  “I…”

  Tom jogged my arm. “You coming, Kat? There’s a beer with my name on it waiting.”

  I stared at Nav. No, I couldn’t deal with him, with us, right now. Tears were still too close. “I can’t.” Then I hurried out of the dining car.

  Nav would make a great father.

  The others laughed and joked, but their words didn’t register.

  I knew he made a wonderful friend. An incredible lover. A fascinating and perceptive companion.

  He’d make some lucky woman a great husband.

  “Buy you a glass of wine? Kat?”

  I realized we’d reached the lounge and Sam was holding a chair for me. “What? Wine? Uh, sure. Thanks.” I dropped into the chair.

  Nav was everything a woman
could possibly want. Why hadn’t I seen that before?

  Because he’d only shown me the reliable, supportive, occasionally flirtatious friend. I hadn’t seen the way he was with kids, had never let our conversations get into deep areas. Hadn’t realized how fun and unpredictable he could be. How sexy. How handsome and poised.

  He’d kept all that hidden. He hadn’t even let me see his face, damn him.

  But then, I’d hidden behind being Ms. Sociability and avoided coming to terms with my true self.

  Until, on this trip, Nav made me do it.

  What I’d found inside wasn’t so great—there was envy, insecurity, some dark emotions—but he’d shown me I wasn’t so awful, either. He hadn’t rejected me. With him, I could be strong or vulnerable, playful or serious, and he would still love me.

  As a friend.

  I found a glass of wine in my hand and took a sip. Nav loved me as a friend. That was what I wanted.

  So why did I feel so crappy? The answer hit me so hard I almost dropped my wineglass.

  Because I loved him.

  On this wild train ride, completely unexpectedly, I had fallen totally, utterly in love with Nav Bharani. As a lover, a partner, a potential life-mate.

  This was what love truly was. It went far beyond the bedazzlement, the lust, I’d felt for other men. It was deeper, brighter, steadier. Far more exciting, in a real and lasting way.

  I set the glass down with trembling hands and stared at the ruby-colored wine. Well, damn. For once, I’d fallen for a truly good, utterly wonderful man.

  But, as always, the relationship was doomed.

  In fact, it didn’t even exist. Nav had gone to bed with me for fun, to satisfy curiosity.

  Yes, now I knew he wanted to get married, but not to me. To some perfect woman who would win his heart. Someone like that damned Margaret, or the other woman he’d loved who hadn’t loved him back.

  Which left me…where? In love with a wonderful man who, at most, wanted to be friends with benefits. No way could I do that.

  My grandmother had been right all along. I couldn’t have my cake and eat it, too. I never should have gone along with Nav’s Pritam and Dhiraj games.