The Sheikh's Accidental Bride (10 page)

“Let’s get you inside,” Jasmine said, when Nadya had sobbed all she could. Then she scooped up her sister’s bag, and led her into the house.

TWELVE

Nadya had only been to her sister’s house once before. She’d been struck before by the grandness of it. She’d objected to it, in a kind of sullen, liberal arts major way, but now she saw it differently. It was a grand house by most standards, yes, but having spent the last few days in the presence of extreme wealth, it was hard to be intimidated or resentful. Besides which, in the time since Nadya had seen this house, Jasmine had had time to live in it and make it her own. Everywhere Nadya looked, she kept seeing little pieces of her sister’s personality.

Their parents were staying here, in another part of the house. But Jasmine had kindly gotten her mother to stay away for the time being. Now the girls sat in a seat under one of the bay windows, drinking some chai tea Jasmine had made for them. Nadya kept staring out at the wall of trees, leaves fluttering in the breeze, with the last remnant of a summer shower glistening in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Have you been hurt?”

It was the first thing that Jasmine said, once Nadya looked like she was ready to speak.

Nadya shook her head emphatically, trying to think of how to phrase it. “No. If anything, I hurt myself. And I hurt someone else.” Nadya searched her sister’s face. She didn’t understand, and her confusion plainly showed. But then, how could she?

“Can you tell me what happened?” Jasmine asked.

Nadya hesitated. Maybe it would do her good, she thought, if she got it all out. But the thought of speaking the words out loud seemed impossible. She couldn’t even say them to Salman, who had felt closer to her than her own skin. Speaking the words to her sister, who hadn’t been there and couldn’t possibly understand, just couldn’t happen. Not yet, anyway.

“Someday,” she said, and hoped it was true.

Jasmine nodded, accepting. “Was there anything illegal? Anything permanent?”

Was there? Impersonation? Identity theft? And the way she felt – the way she had probably made
him
feel… would that be permanent?

“I don’t know,” she answered, honestly. Her sister deserved the truth. After all, here she was picking up the pieces. “But I don’t think there will be charges, either way.”

“A man?”

Nadya nodded, tears coming again to her eyes. “A
good
man.” Her voice was cracking as she spoke.

Jasmine hugged her again. “When you’re ready,” she said, “we can talk about it.”

The girls sat drinking their tea. They were close together, and it was peaceful. This wasn’t the reconciliation Nadya had expected, but it felt like was a reconciliation, regardless. Still, she ought to say it…

“I’m sorry, you know… The things I said…”

“I’m sorry, too,” Jasmine got out, before Nadya could elaborate.

“I think I’m sorrier.”

Jasmine had just a hint of a smile on her face as she replied. “You probably should be.”

The girls laughed together, and in spite of the hollow pain still in Nadya’s chest, she began to feel that she might be all right.

She tried to explain to Jasmine that she saw now that she’d been making assumptions about her husband, and about her relationship, that just weren’t fair or justified. But Jasmine just waved her away.

“You don’t have to explain,” she said. “It’s not important. It’s in the past. You’re here, and you’re my sister. Nothing can take that away.”

For the last few days, Nadya had been wishing she had Other Nadya’s life. She’d wanted her money, her future, and her fiancé. But she hadn’t thought, in all that time, of what she would lose in the trade.

Jasmine treated her gently, and they made small, simple conversation while they sipped their tea. By the time their mother could hold her curiosity back no further and intruded, Nadya felt resilient enough to handle her barrage of questions.

She went to sleep that night in a bed not quite as comfortable as the one she had slept in the previous two days. She wasn’t on top of the world, but she was with family. As she drifted off, she did the best she could to let that thought keep her thoughts of Salman at bay, without success. In the end, she resorted to accepting the sleeping pill that her mother had left on her bedside table, sensing it might come in useful.

She went to sleep thinking only of the sunrise.

THIRTEEN

The drugged sleep was odd. It felt like it was holding her, restraining her. Nadya dreamed she saw Salman, trying to get to her, but a woman with an Ambien for a head showed up, dressed in her mother’s clothes, and kept chasing him away.

When she woke, she felt that she’d been fighting battles all night, and that she was more tired still and must have overslept. But when she looked outside, the world was rosy. It couldn’t have been far past dawn. The clock on her phone told her that was true, and gave her a notification that online check-in was now available for her flight.

Seattle. It had been home for the last four years. When she’d been on the plane coming here, she’d already been looking forward to going back. But now? All she could see in her mind was the rain, her dingy apartment, and the sense that something had gone wrong and she was neither with whom she wanted nor where she wanted to be.

Still trying to clear the haze from her head, she sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard. She needed to take stock. Her life had been going OK… or so she’d thought. She’d been making it on her own.

But had she, really? Away from her parents, whose pushy intrusions were now beginning to feel more and more like justifiable concern. Isolated from her sister. Taking jobs that demanded she spend her time in ways she hated, in the endless quest to prove to the world that she could make it on her own.

She could see the river from here, she realized, in the hazy, rose-gold light.

The world didn’t care. The thought struck her as if from nowhere, as she stared at the hint of the river.

It didn’t care if she struggled. It didn’t care if she made decisions that made her life harder, just to prove that she could. If there was one thing Salman had showed her – one thing she would always be grateful to him for, no matter how much the very thought of him might cause her to ache – it was the lesson that not having to struggle didn’t make you less. He was more of a man, and a better, more honorable man than she had ever met, and he had suffered for nothing.

She would accept her sister’s help. Before, when Jasmine had suggested that maybe Nadya could stay with her for a while, while she figured out what it was she went back to school for, it had only made her angry. She’d thought it was an accusation that she wasn’t strong enough or good enough to make it on her own.

Now she saw it differently. She
was
strong enough. She
was
good enough. But she didn’t have to make it on her own.

She’d always loved New York, and Jasmine would let her stay here, until she got back on her feet. She’d find a job, but it wouldn’t be killing her. She’d be able to take some time, and figure out want she wanted.

And then she would go back to school. She already had an inkling of what she might choose, though she wasn’t sure yet. Yesterday, in the bath, she’d thought about the life she wanted. And most of that would never come true…
could
never come true. But in that daydream, she’d chosen to spend her time helping the less fortunate, and that was something she could still do.

Jasmine would be up for her morning run soon. Nadya threw back the covers, excited to talk to her. After all that had happened yesterday, and how distraught she had been, making coffee for Jasmine was the least she could do.

As her feet hit the cool floor, Nadya thought about the day to come. It would be Jasmine’s anniversary party. There’d be arrangements still to be made. The day would be a whirlwind of—

Nadya’s blood ran cold. If today was Jasmine’s anniversary, that meant that today was also the day of Salman’s wedding. He, too, would be making last-minute arrangements. Other Nadya would be here in New York. They’d be there at the pavilion. They’d promise each other the future.

The vision Nadya had begun to make of her own future, fragile in the dawn light, was cracking. Maybe he wouldn’t marry her; maybe he wouldn’t go through with it, after all that had happened. Maybe neither of them would. But if there was the slightest chance that they did, and they ended up living together in that country house, how long could Nadya really stay? How could she not think of him with every helicopter, limo, or train that she saw pass her by, wondering if he was aboard, shuttling between his house in the country and his business interests in the city?

He would haunt her. For as long as she thought that he might have got married, Nadya knew that she couldn’t stay here. She felt the dread of what she had to do before the thought had even fully formed itself in her mind. She knew where the ceremony was to be held and, after her reconciliation with Jasmine yesterday, she knew her sister would let her borrow her car, no questions asked.

She had to go. She had to see for herself. There was no way around it. Just a drive by would do it... just enough to tell if preparations were underway and guests were arriving. She’d wear sunglasses. She’d be lost in the commotion. She’d find out, and then she’d be gone, forever.

FOURTEEN

Jasmine had agreed easily in the end. She wanted to know why, of course, but when Nadya insisted that she needed to borrow the car, but couldn’t express just why at the moment, Jasmine hadn’t pushed too hard.

They had a spare car that they kept just for such emergencies, it turned out. Nadya thought it was odd, but when she stopped for gas in Chappaqua, she noticed a tiny piece of tape on the back of the car remote. She had to squint to make it out, but if she looked hard enough, it looked like it said “Nadya”.

She didn’t try and dig into what that meant too much. Not with how much she already had on her mind. But it set her more at ease with the thought of asking her sister if she could stay with her for a while.

The day was overcast, with occasional scattered showers, and Nadya was glad she wasn’t driving the car that she owned back in Seattle. Its windshield wipers badly needed replacing, but she just hadn’t the time or the money to do it.

She’d seen the route she was taking from the air, and at the time it had felt like it was taking no time at all. But driving was an entirely different story. The drive in itself was fine, but the length of it made it difficult to escape her thoughts of Salman. There was no escaping into the world of fiction, this time – not if she wanted to avoid getting the most embarrassing ticket of her life.

The second day of heartbreak is the worst. The first is pain, pure and simple. Raw, aching agony. But it’s fresh. It’s just begun. Anything can be endured for a short time, and on the first day of heartbreak, you can convince yourself that you can survive. After all, you reason, it won’t be forever.

But the second day of heartbreak, you’ve got two days to look at, and you can see how much the pain hasn’t lessoned. And if it’s real heartbreak, you can start to gather than it won’t be a short time. The second day is the worst day, because it takes away all hope that the pain will dull by the third.

Nadya cried while she drove. She wasn’t embarrassed. If anyone could see her, it didn’t matter. Their opinions on the matter weren’t important, and even if they thought it was unacceptable, then they had never felt what she was feeling. And if that was the case, how could they judge?

By the time she reached the area where the house was, she was aching from sitting in one position. She remembered the town it was outside of, but she hadn’t gotten the address. Most likely it didn’t really
have
an address. It was more a work of art than a home, and it seemed more likely to have a name than a street number.

While she was driving around, looking for anything that might look the slightest bit familiar, she began to think that driving all this way, only to be unable to find the house at all would be the worst possible thing that could happen on the trip. She’d have gone to the effort, she’d have missed her sister’s anniversary party that meant so much to her, and she would have learned nothing.

But then she saw a van, huge windows filled up to the brim with beautiful, artful flower arrangements, and she knew she was wrong. Not finding out was
not
the worst thing that could happen to her.

She followed the van down twisty, climbing roads that led to a larger one. There, they joined more cars, and Nadya knew at once that she had found the wedding guests, and that she had found her answers. There was not a vehicle among those on that road, other than Nadya’s own, that cost under $100,000. Inside, she saw all beautiful people, with jewelry dripping from them, and carefully designed looks.

This was it. This was what she came for. They were there for the wedding. She could turn back now. But for some reason, she didn’t. She refused to believe the evidence of her own eyes. She kept going.

Her car didn’t blend in as well as she’d hoped, and she really did have to make an effort to censor her tears, now. She comforted herself with the idea that everyone in the cars around her was more interested in being seen at a royal wedding than they were in gazing upon some unfortunate driving a mid-range car.

When she reached the manor, it shocked her how different it looked now from how she remembered it. In the rain, through her emotionally-tainted eyes, it looked dingy, rather than bright. The parking lot where she, along with the string of arriving guests, was being directed was off the exit end of the round driveway, so she got a full view of the entrance, and the bright marble stairs that she’d sat on with Salman.

She didn’t look too closely. She couldn’t afford to get emotional again. Not when they were all so close together and at such slow speeds and she was sure to be noticed.

After she parked, she fiddled with her phone. If anyone saw her, she reasoned, they’d just think she needed to check something, and would be heading into the ceremony in a moment. She’d be dismissed; forgotten. Just the way she wanted to be. Right?

Her plan worked, it seemed. Everyone got out of their cars and meandered through the parking lot, and she was left alone. She gave herself a moment to cry. Just a moment of weakness. Everyone was inside. The parking lot was abandoned, even by the attendants, and Nadya started the engine and turned the car around, ready to head home. She found her way out, carefully avoiding the millions of dollars in automobiles surrounding her.

She allowed herself just one last look up at the entryway. Just another moment going over the memory of what almost was but couldn’t be. She gasped. There, sitting on the steps, just where they had been sitting two days before, was Salman. He had his head down, like he was thinking of something.

Nadya couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d told herself she could never see him again. She’d even accepted that she must structure her life around avoiding even the chance that she would. But now, here he was, right in front of her.

She heard a screech of metal hitting concrete, and felt the jolt. She hadn’t been watching where she was going, while the car crept forward, and she’d hit the curb of the driveway. She looked over the steering wheel, trying to discern if the car was stuck, and then her eyes darted back to where she’d seen Salman a moment before.

He’d heard it. He’d seen her.

No,
this
was the worst possible result of the trip out here. Nadya cursed under her breath, hurriedly putting the car in reverse. The wheels screeched as the car lurched back gracelessly, and Nadya sped away.