by Sara Desai
He heard a rustle beside him, caught a glimpse of a bright green tunic, felt a hand on his shoulder. Although he just wanted to be left alone, he looked up. Just in case. Good news or bad, he needed to know.
It took him a moment to recognize Daisy’s aunt Taara without her shark costume. She was shorter than he’d thought, older, her dark hair swinging around her shoulders.
“I made this for you.” She handed him a clear plastic container, her face creased in a frown. “Layla said you haven’t eaten anything in three days. It’s your favorite. Shark Stew. I went to the SAP arena to get the authentic ingredients. All your nutrients are there.”
“Thank you.” His voice, unused for so long, was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable. “That’s very kind.”
They had all been kind. Her family had treated him as if he were one of them. It made no sense. Daisy was in that hospital bed because of him, because she had been on his bike, because he had asked her to ride.
“Taara, what are you doing?” Daisy’s aunt Salena reached for the container. He remembered her from the conference center, although they had only shared a few words. “He survived the crash. We don’t want to kill him now.”
“He likes it.” Taara handed him the container. “I gave him some at the hockey game and he ate it all. Every bit.”
“Did he now?” Salena gave Liam an appraising stare. “He must have a cast-iron stomach. Or maybe he’s missing his taste buds. Or maybe . . .” Her voice softened. “He has a good heart.”
“He has a broken heart.” Taara patted his shoulder. “But it’s going to be okay. Daisy is going to be fine. The doctor said so. No broken bones. No internal injuries. Not even skin abrasions. She was well protected in her motorcycle suit. She just needs to wake up, and it will all be good.”
Liam pressed his lips tight together and nodded. It wasn’t going to be fine. He was his father’s son after all, causing pain to everyone he loved.
Time passed. Deepa stopped by his chair to tell him his sherwani was ready, and she’d found him a bigger sword. Amina had a new recipe for a not-so-spicy pork vindaloo. Sam had arranged for Hamish to pick up his motorcycle and take it to the shop. Mehar, who had snuck Max into the hospital in Daisy’s Marvel tote bag, put Max in Liam’s lap for a quick hug.
Someone sat beside him and he tensed, hands clenching into fists as he prepared to be assailed yet again by love. He couldn’t even imagine having a family like the Patels. A family that would hold him up, instead of tearing him down. A family that would rent a room in the hospital so he wouldn’t be alone.
“Even I think this is too much,” Layla said, tugging on his shoulder until he was upright. “You had a concussion, too. You were supposed to go home and rest.”
“I am resting.”
“You’re brooding,” she said. “And you’re blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. I talked to the police. They had the dash-cam footage of the car behind you and witness statements of the drivers on the other side of the road. The guy in the truck was drunk. He’d been driving dangerously before the accident, trying to get ahead of a long line of traffic. He tried to pass on a blind corner on a double yellow line and was directly in your path. There was nothing you could have done to avoid a head-on collision other than go off the road. Not only that, you saved her. The police officer said what you did was heroic. If you hadn’t jumped off the bike with Daisy, you both would have hit the retaining wall and no amount of body armor could have saved you.”
Emotion welled up in his chest and he pressed a palm to his forehead. “She was on that road because of me.”
“She wanted to be there,” Layla said. “She texted me before she left. She was excited, Liam. Not hesitant. Not afraid. She didn’t feel pressured in any way. It was her choice.” She patted his arm. “Go home. Take a shower. Eat something. Have a rest. I promise I’ll call if she wakes up.”
“I’m not leaving.” Not yet.
“It’s not your fault.”
But it was. He’d hurt her. Just like before.
* * *
• • •
IT was time. Liam took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he had to do. Daisy had been awake for twelve hours. She’d had visits from doctors, police officers, reporters, and her relatives two by two. Layla had assured him that she was going to be fine and they were discharging her in the morning. The crowd had finally dwindled. Visiting hours were coming to a close. It was his turn to see her but he still didn’t know what he was going to say. Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by a sharp intake of breath.
“Liam? My God, is that you?”
His head jerked up at the sound of Nadal Patel’s deep voice—a voice that meant home.
Except for some thinning of his hair and a little gray on the sides, Daisy’s father looked almost the same. Lean and slightly stooped, dressed in his favorite outfit of short-sleeved checkered shirt and pants one size too big, he was so familiar it made his heart ache. How many evenings had he sat at the kitchen table listening to Mr. Patel’s stories about his extreme adventures? Or having his confidence bolstered by Mr. Patel’s encouragement and advice?
“You know Limb? Daisy’s fiancé?” Standing beside Daisy’s father, Salena frowned. “Poor boy. He was driving the motorcycle when they were run off the road.”
“I know Liam.” His face tightened. “Very well.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Patel.” Liam held out his hand, but Daisy’s father didn’t reciprocate.
“What’s wrong, Nadal? Shake his hand.” Short and slender, with a sweet heart-shaped face and a bob of salt-and-pepper hair, the woman on his right gave him a nudge. When he still didn’t move, she introduced herself as Priya.
“Priya is Nadal’s . . . girlfriend. They were in Belize together,” Salena said with a hint of disapproval. “They flew back when they got the news.”
“I’m sure Belize wasn’t the same when you left,” Liam said, trying to break the ice.
Priya laughed but Mr. Patel still didn’t smile.
Puzzled, Salena frowned. “Nadal, are you going to say hello or not?”
“Not.” He folded his arms across his chest, his mouth pressed into a firm line.
“Nadal!” Priya’s shocked expression was a reflection of Liam’s feelings. He’d tried to predict how Mr. Patel would react to seeing him again, but if he’d had to guess, abrupt dismissal would have been the last thing he would have expected from the gentle man who had welcomed him into his home.
“It’s okay,” Liam said. “I can understand how difficult it must be to see me again after how I hurt Daisy, and now this—”
“It wasn’t just Daisy you hurt,” Mr. Patel said, his voice uncharacteristically abrupt. “It was Sanjay and me. You were a part of our family.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “If you had a problem, you should have come to us instead of running away.”
“I left because of my family,” Liam retorted. “I wasn’t part of yours.”
“Every day you came to my house.” Daisy’s father waved his hands around, as he had always done when he was agitated. “You were a friend to my son. You made my daughter smile. You said your jokes and made me laugh. You sat at our table and ate our food. And always you were fixing things in the house. You helped us. We helped you. That’s family. And then you just left. No explanation. No goodbye. Not even a phone call to let us know you weren’t dead.”
Words failed him. He had never even considered that Daisy’s father would care what happened to him after he’d hurt his daughter. His own family didn’t care. They hadn’t even tried to find Liam when his father died. He’d found out only when an estate lawyer had contacted him to let him know he had been cut out of the will.
“I didn’t think you would want to hear from me.”
“After almost eight years of being part of our family?
” Mr. Patel’s voice cracked, broke. “We all make mistakes, Liam. How could you think I wouldn’t care? What kind of man do you think I am?”
“Mr. Patel . . .” Emotion rose in his throat, choking his words.
“And now you show up and want to be part of my family again?” He was trembling, his lined face twisted in a scowl. “I thought I knew who you were when you came every day to my house. Even that night of the prom, I thought your reason for what you did would be a good one. You would explain and we would make things right. But you didn’t come. For ten years you didn’t come. No e-mail or letter. Now, I don’t even know who you are.”
Liam’s face heated and he willed the ground to swallow him up. Her father did know who he was. He’d been unworthy then and he was unworthy now. A delinquent in all but name. Even if he accepted the partnership at Evolution, he would never be good enough for Daisy. She was surrounded by a warm, loving family. They wanted her to be happy, to have a family of her own with a good man who would love and care for her. How could he take that away from her? How could he continue to deceive her family into believing she’d found a partner who truly loved her? How could he betray Mr. Patel yet again?
He wanted to be worthy. He wanted to walk into the room and hold his head high. The Evolution partnership was a step in that direction. And so was releasing Daisy from the bargain he never should have made.
* * *
• • •
DAISY had been awake for exactly twelve hours, twenty-eight minutes, and forty-three seconds when Liam walked into her room. She’d seen twenty-six relatives, including her dad and Priya, two nurses, one police officer, two reporters, two doctors, and one excited Max hidden in a tote bag. She’d had two naps, swallowed four pills, drank six glasses of water, traded three terrible hospital meals for plates of food snuck into her room in oversize handbags by aunties who were worried she’d lose weight, and she’d been cleared to leave in the morning.
Salena Auntie, on her way out with Priya and her father, had told her that Liam had been sitting outside her room for three days. She’d also heard about the altercation with her father and had received an earful for not telling Salena Auntie who Liam was. She didn’t know what she’d expected when she finally saw him, but it wasn’t a man who looked so utterly destroyed.
“Daisy . . .” His voice cracked, broke, and in that moment she knew with gut-wrenching certainty exactly what was going to happen, play by play, as if it were a movie she’d seen before.
Act I: Liam Blames Himself
“Liam, don’t you dare.” She folded her arms across her chest and mentally willed him not to say what he was about to say.
Misunderstanding, he stopped five feet away, a frown creasing his brow. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Just took a while to wake up. Probably because I wasn’t getting enough sleep . . .” Her joke fell flat. He didn’t even smile. “Are you okay? Layla said you had a minor concussion. Why didn’t you go home?”
“You were here.” He moved to the foot of her bed, a pained expression on his face. “I couldn’t leave.”
“Well, you can go home now,” she said gently. “As you can see, the body armor did its job. I didn’t wind up as one of Hamish’s gory stories.”
He drew in his lips, and she felt a prickle on the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t taken you out . . .”
Daisy held up her hand. “Don’t even start. This wasn’t your fault. The police officer told me what happened. Layla told me what happened. All my aunties and uncles told me what happened. You saved me, Liam. You were a hero. Most people wouldn’t have thought to pull us off the bike, or to roll so you cushioned my body. You saved me. The end.”
Still no smile. Instead, he shook his head. “Most people wouldn’t have thought to put you on the bike in the first place.” She could feel his tension rising, see his anxiety ripple under his skin.
“It was my choice, and except for the fact that your pillion seat is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever sat on in my life, and that’s even with all my extra padding, I loved being out there with you. It was fun and exciting and it took my breath away. I’m not saying I’ll be jumping on your motorcycle the minute I get out of here, but—”
“The bike was totaled in the crash, and I’m not sure if I’ll buy another one.” He hesitated, and the part of her mind that had detached from her emotions sat back and called the next scene of this train wreck of a breakup as her pulse pounded in her ears.
Act II: Liam Justifies His Self-Delusion
“I can’t do this.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, the creak of a door in a silent room. “I can’t pretend anymore.”
Daisy frowned. “What do you mean, you ‘can’t do this’? I haven’t told anyone that we’re not really engaged. The dating plan isn’t done. We still have to meet my family for the big interrogation, and then the marriage at city hall . . .”
“I should never have asked you to get involved,” he continued. “I was so focused on my family and saving the distillery, I never really thought about how we would be misleading your family, too. And now that I’ve met them, and seen your dad again, I just can’t—” His voice caught, broke. “He was like a father to me. And your aunties . . . I can see that they could be . . . difficult to handle, but they love you. They just want to find someone who will make you happy, someone worthy of you. And it’s clear, that’s not me.”
Dread slid icy fingers along her spine. She wanted to run, to hide, to sink back into the oblivion of unconsciousness where her nightmares couldn’t come true. Unbidden, her mind took her back to the day her mother left. They’d put the last touches on redecorating her bedroom, coordinating the bedspread and pillows with the bright pink walls. A kiss. A hug. And then her mother packed up the car and drove away. At seven years old, Daisy hadn’t understood it was forever. She’d sat at the window for hours waiting for her mother to come back until Sanjay had come home and read the note on the kitchen table. Even then she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. For two weeks, she returned every day to the window, waiting for her mother to come home while Sanjay shouted and raged, and her dad sat on the couch and cried. Little had she known that in ten years, she’d be sitting at that window again, waiting for someone else to come back to her. Had she not learned her lesson? Why had she put herself in this situation again?
“So after everything, you’re just walking away?” She stared at him, incredulous. “What about Organicare?” It wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come from her lips.
What about me?
Liam frowned. “I’ve done everything I said I would do. Once Brad finishes the rebrand, I’ll make sure it gets to the Evolution partners for consideration with my full recommendation. I’ve been called back to New York to discuss partnership, but because of the conflict of interest I won’t have a vote—”
She stared at him, aghast. “You’re moving back to New York?” She hadn’t seen that one coming.
Act III: Liam Pulls a Devastating Hat Trick
“I hadn’t decided if I was going to accept the offer, but I made my decision today.” His gaze dropped to the floor and he shrugged. “It was my dream. I wanted to show the world that a guy with nothing and no college degree could make it to the top.”
Her face fell. It was happening too quickly, spinning out of control. Caught in a maelstrom of emotion, she could barely breathe. “And what?” she demanded. “That’s it? You’re just walking away? What about the distillery?”
What about us?
Liam shrugged. “My dream of saving the family legacy was just that . . . a dream. I never really thought it through. But you’ve shown me I need to be practical. I need a plan for my life moving forward. I can’t run a distillery from New York. What you have—people who love you, who care about you, who made sure you were never alone—that’s a legacy. What am I really trying t
o save?”
Us. But there was no us. It was a game. A charade. A made-up relationship. It wasn’t real, and it was never meant to be. He had been honest about that from the start. She just hadn’t expected it would end so soon.
She had rules about getting too close and she’d broken them. She had a life plan and it didn’t include relationships with motorcycle-riding bad boys who had once broken her heart. She had learned her lessons about love and yet she’d made the same mistake again. Except this time, she had a chance to do it right, to say what she wanted to say, to answer the question that had haunted her the two times she’d been left before: What if they knew?
Act IV: Daisy Throws Herself on Her Sword
“I love you, Liam.” Tears misted her eyes. “I have always loved you, except for the ten years I hated you. But then you came back and I fell in love with you all over again. I don’t care about partnerships or careers or inheritances or distilleries. I care about you, and the kind of person you are.” She drew in a shuddering breath, twisting the sheet in her fist. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You’re a good person, a kind person, someone who makes me laugh and feel good about myself and who I looked forward to seeing every single date. You are funny and sweet and generous, protective and strong. You made me feel both normal and special at the same time. You followed my rules but you also made me break them. You encouraged me to step outside my bubble and be the best person I can be. I like who I am with you. Somewhere along the way, this became real to me.” Her voice trembled. “I want it to be real.”
“God, Daisy . . .” His face crumpled. “Please . . . don’t . . . You can’t love me.” He crossed the room in two steps and took her in his arms. She clung to him, buried her face in his chest, breathed in his scent one last time as she soaked his shirt with hot, wet tears.