If I Say No, page 27
“Has your dad been in touch at all?” He sounds casual but his frame is tense as he leans against the granite worktop.
“I don’t know,” I reply curtly. “I blocked his number ages ago.”
“He didn’t ring the house?”
“You’d have heard if he had,” I scoff. “You’ve been here all week.”
Our kitchen has been a food laboratory since Monday, me and Seb the head scientists. We’ve been testing new recipes, deciding which of the current favourites should stay, which should be jazzed up, and coming up with interesting ways to decorate our creations. It’s all in the presentation when it comes to online sales, he said.
I’ve had fun. Nan’s loved it—as well as tried to play matchmaker between me and Seb. Which wasn’t horrible, to be honest. She was making progress... One of the funniest things she said in her matchmaking endeavours was, “If a boy’s favourite cake is the same as yours and your mother’s, it’s a sure sign that you’re meant to be with him.” That made me laugh really hard and for ages!
I didn’t tell her that I got butterflies when Seb revealed that he liked my jazzed up lemon drizzle cake the best. Yes, I decided that seen as I’ll never replicate mum’s lemon drizzle, I would tweak the recipe to make it my own. Seb really enjoyed my twists on this classic: Blueberry compote swirled through the batter and a thin layer of blueberry cheesecake frosting.
“He’s probably letting you cool down,” Seb says of my father. He folds his arms across his chest and quickly drops them.
“I’m not backing down. What he did was—”
“Unforgivable, I know,” he assures me in a rush. “He probably told you guys half the truth to spare you the pain. Nan’s right, though. He’s the only family you’ll have after...”
“I’ll be okay with my friends,” I snap. Of course, guys stick up for guys.
No. Looking at his face, I don’t think Seb’s making excuses for my dad; he’s trying to make me see why Nan wanted me to patch things up with dad. Once her anger at dad subsides, Nan will probably start preaching to me to forgive him—so that I’ll have my father looking out for me when she’s gone. I can’t blame Seb for agreeing with her.
Sucking in a breath to calm myself down, I say, “I’ll return to my old job and my old life in London. That’s why we’re hiring Melody, right? So she can run the shop and I can have my old life back?”
In between the baking and the stuffing ourselves with experimental cake, the three of us have been interviewing for my assistant. I didn’t want to leave Nan alone, so Seb and I interviewed the candidates at the house. Nan had a blast interrogating them on their baking and bookkeeping skills.
We liked Melody the best. She actually ran her own cake shop in London for a while before the credit crunch took her under. Her experience makes her the perfect person to run everything when I cut back. And eventually, cut loose.
“I didn’t know that,” Seb mumbles. “Melody was the best candidate, but... I wasn’t aware you were thinking of leaving...” He seems troubled. It doesn’t make sense.
“I didn’t know that I’d be able to.” I shrug. “You seem sad...”
“I’m not sad. I just read you wrong, I guess. My fault. I thought you wanted this life.” He looks around the kitchen.
I know what he means by this life: Running a cake shop, coming home to take care of Nan, distributing cake to the neighbours. The life of The Girl That Brings The Cake.
“It’s not a bad life,” I say. “I mean, the mortgage on this house was paid off years ago. The shop’s a freehold property in my name. Nan has her pension. I have savings from my job. I could have shut the shop down and returned to London if I wanted to. I just couldn’t let mum’s shop sink, you know?
“If you never invested in it and it failed, Nan and I wouldn’t have starved. It’s not a bad life. It’s just not my endgame.” I give him a ‘what can I do?’ look.
“My investment hasn’t made a difference to you whatsoever...” Again, he looks dejected.
“Of course, it has!” I insist. “The shop will flourish and—”
“You won’t see it.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. But thanks to your fund, I won’t have to sink while keeping the shop afloat. Both my dreams and mum’s dreams can stay alive.”
Finally, a little smile, a faint twinkle in his eyes. “What about you?” He walks up to me and I find myself backed up against the counter. “Have I made a difference to you, personally?”
The intensity in his gaze draws out the truth from me. “Seb, I could so easily fall in love with you if your past wasn’t what it was. Then again, that’s what’s made you who you are and that’s who I’d fall for...”
Maybe I’ve fallen already...
“You just can’t trust me not to cheat on you.” He closes his eyes in regret.
“I don’t think you’ll cheat on me—”
“Then, why can’t we be together?” he begs, opening his eyes and placing his hands on my waist. “Why did you turn away every time we nearly kissed this week? Why have you been shrugging off my touch?”
I always want to lean into his touch. Right now, with him cornering me the way he’s been doing all week, I want to make out with him so bad. But I won’t.
“I can see that you want me,” he goes on in a low voice, “but why do you change your mind at the last minute?”
“I don’t know.”
“I know I can make you happy.” He brings his face dangerously close to mine. “I know we’ll be good together,” he whispers, voice husky. “I know you’re the one I want to be with. Tell me what I need to do to help you see that?”
“I don’t know,” I reply in an unintentional whisper.
That’s a lie, though. I know he’s smitten. There’s just something keeping me from covering the small distance between us. I don’t know what, but it’s always there, tugging me back. When Seb moves his hand to my face and comes in to kiss me, I twist my face to the side. See? Tugged away.
“I think you should go now, Seb. Take as many of these cookies as you like.”
He exhales and straightens up. “You try the cookies. I trust your judgment.”
Chapter 103
Shell
My phone pings in my hand at around 8pm on Saturday. Shayla’s name pops up on the screen.
So how’s it going?
I reply to her WhatsApp message immediately.
Fine. How r you?
Forget about us!
How’s your mini
honeymoon?
Good thanks. The
hotel is really nice.
Yay! How’s Jiju?
He’s good. He just
popped out for
some food...
Oh. Room service
no good?
We ordered room
service for lunch.
Trying something
else for dinner...
So did you guys do
IT last night?
Shayla! Stop being
so nosey.
That means you did!
Hallelujah!!! :) :) :) :)
Don’t worry I won’t
ask for all the gory
details haha
You’re not getting
ANY details. Eww!
Lol I’m just glad you
two did it!! Do you
feel closer to him
now?
Yeah. Real close.
I told you! I know
best haha
I have to go now.
He’s back. Bye.
Without waiting for Shayla’s reply, I drop my phone on the bed and jump to my feet. Imran walks over to the table along the wall opposite the bed and places a carry bag on it. Fried chicken and chips, I can smell it. I join him by the chunky table and the smell hits me hard, potent and greasy.
“I got food,” he says, slipping out of his jacket. “You hungry?”
No. “Yeah.”
“Let’s eat before it gets colder.”
Nodding, I sit down on one of the leather tub chairs positioned by the table. Imran sits on the other. One-handedly, he takes out a cardboard box overflowing with fries and slides it towards me. He grabs the plastic forks from the bag and hands one to me.
“Tuck in,” he says as he lifts the lid.
He doesn’t take the other box out of the bag and pushes it against the wall, an indication that we’re sharing this portion. I guess he’s not hungry, either. I wonder if all the food we ordered to our room for lunch is still weighing down his stomach like it is mine.
We ate a lot for breakfast, too. Not because we were starving after an entire night of love-making. Despite what I let my little sister believe, Imran and I didn’t lose our virginities last night. That was the plan, but we were too tired after the hour’s drive to this seafront hotel in Southend that we fell asleep after making out for a bit in the luxurious bed.
This morning, we woke up with growling tummies and took full advantage of the hotel’s unlimited tea and toast supply. Then, we went down to the beach for a walk, during which Imran gave me the floating heart necklace that I didn’t accept on our wedding night. Once we returned to our stunning room...
You’re not getting any of the gory details about our first time, though. All I will say is that it’s a lot more painful than I’ve been led to believe by books and movies. It was a very good idea to come away for this. I’ll leave it at that. Don’t worry, we were safe. My Bhabi hinted ages ago—when my engagement was finalised, actually—that I should get my GP to prescribe me the contraceptive pill. I did as she advised; I’ve been taking the pill this past week. Plus, Imran brought his own form of protection. We were very grown-up about it.
Something else that surprised me was how devastated Imran felt about hurting me. At first, however, I thought he was being distant because he hadn’t enjoyed himself. That it wasn’t what he’d hoped. It definitely wasn’t what I expected. I’ll take making out over sex any day.
“It should be better when we do it again,” I mumbled as we devoured our lunch.
True to the films, we were starving afterwards. So, we showered, ordered a mini-banquet to our room, and dug in while we were still in our bathrobes.
“Should be,” Imran replied, barely looking at me.
Not knowing that he was feeling too guilty to meet my gaze, I couldn’t help but feel stung by his aloofness.
“Wow,” I breathed. “I’m the one that got hurt and had my legs turn to gel, and you’re the one that’s disappointed?”
His head snapped up at once. Confused, he asked, “What? Disappointed?”
I just looked at him.
“Of course, I’m not—”
“You don’t look particularly... satisfied.”
Imran blinked. “You think I didn’t enjoy it?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Doesn’t seem like you did.” I was only half-serious at this point.
“What does it seem like?” he asked in a defeated voice. “Like maybe I hate myself for making you scream in pain? For hurting you more than anyone ever has?” He closed his eyes, breathed through his nose for a few seconds.
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I could only stare.
“I’m so sorry, Shell,” he whispered, opening his eyes. “I keep hearing your scream in my head. The pain that was in it. I wish...” He shook his head. “If I’d known it would hurt you that much, I wouldn’t have gone through with it.”
He really meant it. My heart squeezed and I think I fell in love with him a little bit.
Not trusting my legs to be stable enough to hold me up, I slid off the chair and stood on my knees. Taking his face in my hands, I kissed him on the lips. He was so upset with himself that he didn’t return the kiss. That made my heart squeeze again, harder this time. I pressed my forehead against his and he placed his hands on my waist.
Still cupping his face, I whispered, “You just made me fall in love with you.”
His hands fell away from me and he sat up straight in an instant, leaving my hands empty. I could tell it wasn’t a voluntary reaction; I just didn’t know what elicited it. There was something in his face that I couldn’t decipher. I didn’t care to decipher it—because it wasn’t what I expected or hoped to see when I told him I was falling for him.
“Did I say something wrong?” I asked, failing to keep the irritation out of my voice. Tears sprang to my eyes. I don’t know why.
Seeing the hurt, he bent forward and helped me back into my chair. “You didn’t say anything wrong,” he assured me in a gentle voice. “You just don’t have to say you love me because you think you have to. It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
I frowned, my temper starting to rise. Why was he ruining this moment for me? “That’s not why I said it.” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice still soft. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said that I wanted you to be in love with me before we slept together—”
“That’s not why I said it,” I repeated, tears streaming down my face all of a sudden.
His face fell when he saw the waterworks and he got down on his knees to dry my eyes. I felt comforted and my tears stopped falling. Imran smiled a sad smile and I returned it.
“I said it because it’s true,” I told him, “and that’s not the reaction us girls aspire to.”
“I’m sorry. I was just surprised, I guess. Thank you. I love you more, though.” He smiled warmly and winked.
But the change in his tune annoyed me. “No,” I argued, my anger resurfacing. “You thought I was lying!”
“Of course, I didn’t.” He was addressing me like I was a child. It bugged me so much.
“You didn’t believe me,” I snapped. “At lease stick to the same story!”
“Of course, I believed you.” Again, his tone was super-friendly, kind. His words were lies, though.
I couldn’t stop my voice from rising as I insisted, “No you didn’t!”
Realising that I wasn’t going to back down, he sighed and looked down at the lush carpet. “Well, how could I?” he mumbled.
“How could you believe me? Maybe because you’re supposed to trust me?” I said in an angry rush, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Not supposed to think I’d lie about falling in love with you?”
“Yes, but so quickly?”
I jumped to my feet at the scepticism in his tone. Turned out, my bones were more than strong enough to hold me up.
“Quickly? Me?” I snapped. The rest of my words came out in a fiery rush, accusation and anger in my voice. “Aren’t you the one that supposedly loved me and wanted to spend the rest of your life with me from day one?”
“Yes, but I didn’t like anyone when we met—”
Why did he cut off? I asked myself in the silence that followed. Why did his mouth pop open? Why are his eyes wide like he’s blurted out something he shouldn’t have?
I played his words in my head again: I didn’t like anyone when we met. His tone suggested that his next words were likely to be, “Whereas you did. You did like someone when we met.” I didn’t, though... I didn’t like anyone when I met Imran.
“Why did you say that?” I asked, my voice dipping in volume.
He rose to his feet. “I don’t know. Sorry.” He shook his head as though bewildered. It looked forced. “Forget it. It’s silly.”
“I didn’t like anyone when we met. We spoke about it at the training.”
“Exactly.” He chuckled. Again, it was forced.
“Then, why did you—”
“I don’t know. It just came out in the heat of the moment, I guess. Let’s finish eating.” He sat back down in his chair and started eating.
In a daze, I returned to the food. Imran chattered away breezily as he ate. I only half-listened. My mind played our conversation over and over, trying to guess what he would have said if he hadn’t halted abruptly. I kept coming back to this: He was sceptical about me falling in love with him this quickly. Not at first sight, but quickly.
By quickly, he meant, after only a month of marriage.
Then, suddenly, it hit me and I froze in the middle of chewing.
Imran noticed my statuesque form eventually and he, too, froze in the middle of chewing.
His eyes were wide and fixed on my face. He swallowed his mouthful painfully. I swallowed my mouthful painfully.
This is what was going through his head when I told him he’d made me fall in love with him:
It was plausible for him to love me from the moment we met because he didn’t like anyone at the time. But it’s not plausible for me to fall for him after a month of marriage because I do like someone. Imran knows.
“He told you.”
Chapter 104
Shell
He told you. The statement tumbled from my lips unbidden. “You know,” were my next two words. I said them in a cracked whisper, my heart plummeting to my toes.
Imran reached for my hand. “Shell—”
I flew out of the chair before he could touch me. Took several backward steps away from him.
He rose to his feet slowly. “Shell—”
“When?” I asked quietly.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a shake of his head. He made to approach me.
I stopped him with a question: “Before or after?” Did Seb tell you about our fling before or after we got married?
