Page 73 of Everything She Wanted

My heart crushes into a million different pieces.

He steps forward and places his palms on either side of me.

“You have a boyfriend, remember?”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” I say under my breath as outrage explodes through me.

“I don’t have a problem with whatever this is,” he says as he brings a hand to my chest, cupping my breast.

I shove it away. “I do.” I pull my dress down as my face burns.

“What do you want from me, Nisha?”

“Forget it.”

I unlock the door but my hand rests on the knob. I turn back to him as he stands there looking so dumbfounded I almost feel sorry for him.

“I’m not some girl you just fuck in a bathroom.”

Then I open the door and walk into the hallway. I don’t look back.

“How was Ronaldo?” I ask. My insides tremble, but I don my armour.

“A fucking bore, but a totally hot kisser.”

I turn to her as we walk down the street, the loud music fading behind us with every step.

“You kissed him?”

“Yeah, dude. A single girl’s got to have some fun, right?”

I give her a little smile, as we continue to walk along in silence.

“Do your parents ever pressure you about marriage?” I ask as she stops next to me and ruffles through her purse for her foldable flats.

“Honestly, they were really supportive of my career in the beginning.” She steps out of her high heels one foot at a time and pulls on the flats. She picks up the heels with one hand as we continue down the street.

“But now?” I ask. My feet ache and so does my heart.

“Now that I’m thirty-two it’s like they bring it up a lot more. They’re getting worried I’ll miss the window and they might not get grandkids.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Most of the time I shrug it off, because I like my single life. But if I met the right guy, maybe...” Her eyes get a faraway look.

“You met someone.”

“Maybe.” She smiles as she tucks her hair behind her ear and looks down. “I met him in the UK, on a business trip actually.”

“You never told me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she says. We stand on the curb waiting for the crosswalk signal.

“We just stayed late talking after a few meetings and have been kind of messaging the last little while.” She transfers the heels to her other hand before continuing. “We just gel, and he gets me and my ambition. He doesn’t expect me to be home with a dinner plate.”

“Like Eshaan,” I say quietly. The light changes and we cross.

“Eshaan’s parents were always working when we were growing up. I think he just wants things to be different for his kids, you know?”