Sold Short (Sidelined Book 3) Page 9

  “It’s not like we were strangers. We’re friends, we love each other. Like you and Shush.”

  “We’re not talking about me and Shush.” He’d kept from turning that into a shout, but barely.

  “It was just something we did. A shared experienced. We all understood what we were doing and it was safe.”

  “Until someone gets pregnant.”

  “I didn’t mean that to happen. I messed up my dates. I thought it was . . . Don’t be mad with me.”

  “Messed up.” He covered his face. “How could you not be using anything to protect yourself?”

  “The pill made me fat and I never got around to . . . because. It’s hard to. Never mind. It was epically stupid, I know that. But being mad with me isn’t helping.”

  “How do you want me to be?”

  “Supportive, Dev, because no one else is going to be.”

  They stared at each other. Ana who was most like him, who was careful and considerate and never ever screwed up. He took hold of both of her hands.

  “It was an accident. I wasn’t paying enough attention and neither was anyone else and it happened, okay, it was no one’s fault. Okay, it was my fault, and now it’s my responsibility.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “I found out for sure today.”

  “Have you told the men involved? Men, fucking idiots.”

  “No. I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know if I want to, and it could be one of—”

  “Don’t say it. I can’t hear it yet. You’re going to be a single mom at twenty-one.”

  “I’ll be twenty-two by then. Mom was twenty-four when she had you.”

  He shifted, put his back into the seat and took Ana into his arms. He’d been besotted with her when she was born. His beautiful doll-like baby sister, in danger of being smothered by love. Dev was the first word other than baby garble she said. It wasn’t the same with Rani only being two years younger; the ten years between him and Ana had made him feel like a grown-up, responsible for her in a way his parents couldn’t be. This made him feel ancient, a dried-up husk full of violence and sadness.

  “Let’s back up. You don’t have to have a baby so young.” Month of Sundays, what was he suggesting? “Or you can have it and give it up for adoption.”

  “I know. But I don’t think I want to do that. I think. I don’t know.”

  “You want to be a lawyer.”

  “I can’t be the only law student with a baby. I still want to be a lawyer. I want to work in science and technology, all the cutting edge stuff like you. I’m allowed to want that still, aren’t I?”

  “Sure you are, but it will be more difficult and how are you going to support yourself and a baby? You can’t put this on Mom and Dad.”

  Ana shifted out of his hold and turned to face him, but she couldn’t make her eyes still on his. “I thought my incredibly fortunate and wealthy brother would help.”

  It cost her to say that. He could see it in her posture. Of course he would. But this was a whole different ballgame to picking up tabs and paying college tuition, or modernizing his grandmother’s Mumbai home. This was helping someone else raise a kid. Fuck, fuck. How was this happening?

  He reached for Ana and hugged her tighter so he didn’t make the same mistake he’d made with Sarina. An accidental baby wasn’t any more valuable than a planned one and he’d made Sarina feel like shit for just the idea of it. He could no more make Ana feel bad about anything she’d done or needed to do than he could sabotage Plus.

  “Everything you need, Ana. Everything. But we have to talk this all out and you need to be certain.” He was ready for the whole story now. “How many men did you have sex with?” She could have any disease. He wanted to shake her, but she was his baby sister and he felt responsible for her.

  “I’ve been tested for everything. All of us have been. It was incredibly irresponsible and we know it.”

  “How many partners did you have?”

  “Three. Not at the same time, but in the same night.”

  He had to let that soak in. It wasn’t an innocent-ish, of the moment, three-way. His baby sister had raw sex with three different men in one night. Deliberately. None of those men anticipated being a father. His comes from a good immigrant family, quiet, smart, sister did a horribly stupid, risky, drugged-up thing and she’d come to him. Not Rani who could talk the talk, not Shush who wouldn’t censor and certainly not Mom or Dad.

  The way he reacted, what he said and did over the time it took to work this through would make a difference to how Ana coped, and no matter what support he gave her, she’d be a mother at twenty-two on her own if she kept this baby.

  “You think I’m a dirty slut.” Ana’s voice shook. Since he’d gotten back in the car she’d been holding it together, handling it, but this was her life and everything she’d expected from it was coming apart.

  “I think you made a mistake, took awful risks and this is the consequence. I think the baby is my family.”

  She sniffed. “You’re just saying that because you have to.”

  “You didn’t do this alone, Ana.”

  “I thought, you know, I thought it was fine, and then when I sobered up I was sick with worry and we all got tested for every disease and it really was fine, everyone was fine. I took a morning-after pill and we were relieved, swore we’d never be so dumb again, until I missed a period, which they said could happen, and then I missed another one and I had the test.”

  “But you took a morning-after pill.” What did this mean?

  “Five percent failure rate.”

  Oh, Ana, no. “So, you’re pregnant.” That was that then. Little chance she had it wrong.

  “I don’t know what to do, Dev.”

  “Do you care for any of the men?”

  “Yes, all of them, but not like forever. Not like I imagined we’d be parents, not now.”

  “We need to talk to Rani about things like miscarriage and genetic testing and, I don’t even know what.”

  “I don’t want to tell Rani, or Shush or anyone. I don’t want to.” She couldn’t do this alone, he wouldn’t allow it, but he understood her reluctance to walk into the family fire pit without being suited up. “I googled and I talked to the nurse. There’s a chance I could miscarry still, and you can do a paternity test from a blood draw, so we don’t have to wait till the baby is, you know, born to know who the father is.”

  “You could have an abortion.”

  He said it softly, but it still sounded like a shout, immense and heavy, thick with history and religion and struggle, too many issues to resolve from the backseat of an American classic car in the early hours of the morning.

  “Do you think I should? We wouldn’t have to tell anyone if I did.”

  Ana’s voice was crushed small and torn by expectations not met and the weight of shame not yet fully felt. He squeezed her close, as if he could shelter her from the fallout. But he’d brought the question on. He couldn’t avoid it.

  “It’s not my decision, Ana, not Rani’s or Mom’s or anyone’s. This is on you.”

  “My brother the politician. I got that advice from the student counselor. I know all of my options.”

  He sighed. Even the night felt heavy and he was tired into his joints and ached under his bones. “You made a life. That’s bigger than everything else. Bigger than people being disappointed in you, bigger than what I want for you, what Mom and Dad do. Bigger than what you had planned. If you were alone and didn’t have support, this would be much harder. I don’t know if I’d think the same. I don’t know, Ana. Reid never knew his dad and his mom struggled, but the idea of him not being here, I can’t handle that.”

  “I’m a stupid slut for getting pregnant. I’m immoral and a bad person for aborting. I’m a walking stigma if I have the baby. I’ve wrecked my life whatever I do.”

  “You’re my sister. You’re a piece of my heart, Ana. I’ll support you whatever you decide, but please don’t make this abou
t what other people think, about feeling ashamed.” Sarina had that part right. “That’s like walking on a piece of Lego barefoot. Fucking hurts, but you get over it.”

  Ana’s eyes opened wide and she coughed out a surprised laugh. “That is the worst ever analogy. Lego.” She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “I tell you I’m pregnant and I don’t know what to do and you tell me it’s like walking on Lego. That is so lame. Who are you?”

  He tugged on the tail of her long glossy hair. “I’m the guy giving you a ride home.”

  Ana fumbled for his hand. “And standing with me, whatever I decide?”

  “Yeah, him too.”

  “And if I want this baby, if I have it and keep it, you’ll help me. I promise I won’t take advantage forever, it’s just . . . if I know I have your support, I can handle this.”

  “Nothing about this is going to be easy.”

  She nodded. “I’m so tired. I thought I was working too hard, not getting enough sleep. I love you. I’ve changed my mind a hundred times already. I need a few days to think before we tell everyone, okay?”

  He kissed the top of her head. In a few days it would be the same problem and there was nothing he could do about that to make things different.

  They both got in the front of Gita and he drove Ana to her share house, waited while she packed a bag and then took her home and put her to bed in his guest room. She’d have the weekend to think and they’d have a family conference when she felt stronger.

  By the time he got to bed he was beyond tired. He tried reading and whiskey and finally flaked out for a few hours before his alarm went off. He had work to do. He left a note for Ana and fired Gita up. He hit the gourmet market as it opened and stocked up: finely sliced ham, eggs, potato, heirloom tomatoes, Portobello mushrooms, a loaf of sourdough, two types of juice. He was outside Sarina’s before it was decent to wake her. Her car was there, so it probably wasn’t left in the lot because it didn’t start. Maybe she wasn’t alone. Either way, didn’t mean she’d want to see him.

  If this was any other Saturday, he’d let himself in and have the eggs on before she shuffled out half asleep, dragging on clothing, with her hair all loose and her face full of yawn. He had to get coffee into her before she said much. And there was nothing he didn’t like about how it felt to have her watch him cook breakfast, to eat it together, without thinking they had to entertain each other.

  He wanted this morning to be exactly like that. Like he wasn’t about to have to walk beside Ana while she made the most important decision of her life, feeling conflicted and inadequate and determined to shelter her from the worst of it. Like he didn’t owe Sarina the most enormous unreserved apology for being a total dick about her decision. He still didn’t like it for her any more than he liked what Ana had to go through, but he needed to be a better friend.

  He sat in Gita and sweated doing something he’d done a thousand times, but never wondering if there’d be three plates to make up. And that too he had to suck up and accept. The beginning of a headache and the need to eat, the fear of how easy it would be to let this slide for the weekend got him moving.

  Sarina opened the front door before he got his key to the lock. “Dev.”

  “Are you going out?” She was dressed, brushed, bright-eyed and ready and he was on the back foot before he’d cracked an egg.

  “Yes.” She shook her head. “No. I didn’t think I’d see you this morning. I was going to the store.”

  He looked down at the bag of food stuff in his arms. “I bought the store.”

  She stepped back to allow him inside and trailed him to the kitchen. “Should I help?”

  “Er, no, just sit. It’ll take me a few minutes to get to the part where you normally stumble out here.” He put the store bag down and Sarina eyed him from half a room away. “I should’ve called, right, after last night. I should’ve—”

  “You didn’t need to call.” She took a stool at the counter.

  “I should’ve knocked at least. I was going to let myself in.”

  “That’s why you’ve got a key.”

  He looked at the bag of produce. “This is—”

  “Awkward. We’re never awkward.”

  “No, we never are. I don’t like it.” He pulled out the tomatoes, the eggs and the bread.

  “I don’t like it either. I don’t want us to be awkward.”

  He put the two juice bottles and the potatoes on the counter.

  “Are you making hash browns?”

  “Yeah, is that okay?”

  She laughed. “Hash browns are special.”

  He put the coffee machine on. “I’ve made them before.” He turned the stove on and got the big pan out.

  “Yes, but it’s not a regular thing. Dev making hash browns is Dev saying he’s sorry.”

  “I said I was sorry already.” But he’d been going through the motions, and after last night with Ana, he recognized that. He avoided looking at Sarina by focusing on the potatoes.

  “It felt conditional.”

  Knife slipped, but he got his fingers out of the way in time. That was a damn metaphor. “And you feel different now that there are hash browns?”

  “I am a sucker for your food, Dev.”

  “You’re just a really bad cook.”

  “And there’s that.”

  She got glasses and poured juice and let him get on with it. “Are we talking about what happened between us? All of it.”

  “I’m browning potatoes, you talk.” If he talked first, he’d spill on Ana and he couldn’t do that to Ana or Sarina. Thunder stealing had nothing on what was going on in his life.

  “Last night—”

  “Last night you went to the hotel.”

  “What?”

  So much for not talking. How do you like them potatoes? He kept his back to her. “I watched you go into the hotel across from Jade Palace.”

  “You watched me.” Her voice was even but chilled.

  “You made a call and you went into the hotel. You were still there when we left the restaurant.” Coffee was ready so he poured two cups, added sugar to hers, as she liked it, and placed it in front of her. She didn’t say a word. But she’d seen him with Shush, so what was he trying to achieve here?

  “Are you jealous that I might have a friend I can meet at a hotel, Dev?”

  “You weren’t in the bar.”

  “You looked for me in the bar?”

  Her voice was cold, cold, cold and the coffee was too hot. He put his cup down. On the stove, an egg spat. Conversation was close to boiling point. “I was worried your stupid car wouldn’t start.” He turned back to the pan.

  “So you stalked me in the bar instead of calling me.”

  “It wasn’t stalking. I was across the street.” He got plates and cutlery ready.

  “Why are we doing this to each other?”

  Shush had asked him why he was fighting them. Sarina was asking the same thing. He plated the food. “Because we care.”

  “That sucks right now.”

  “How can it suck?” He put a plate in front of her. “That breakfast does not suck.” Really poor attempt at deflection, but it’s what he had.

  “It’s all wrong. You don’t like my choices and I want more from you than is reasonable.”

  That about covered it. “Yeah, that sucks.” He picked a mushroom off his plate and ate it.

  “There’s a new packet of Exedrin in the corner cupboard.”

  He blinked at Sarina. He hadn’t mentioned having a headache. He went for the meds and took two tabs with a slug of juice. “I’m sorry. I reacted badly. I didn’t get with the program and maybe I am jealous.”

  “Why are you jealous?”

  “You said it. I guess because you’re moving on without me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You are. Having a baby, it’s a new phase of your life. Having an affair or whatever you’re calling it—”

  “I’m not doing anything.�
�� She looked down at her plate and picked at her hash brown with a fork. “I keep wanting to do something but I chicken out.”

  “W-what. You’re not—?”

  “Having hot sex with an escort? Almost. I can’t quite get there.”

  That was enough to choke a man on a mouthful of toast. “He can’t make you?”

  “No, no, not that. I can’t quite want it enough.”

  “Not your type?”

  “Oh, he’s my type.” She closed her eyes, and her secret little smile was flipping irritating. “Colby is every woman’s type.”

  His fork hit his plate with a crack. “His name is Colby. Like the cheese.”

  “It’s not his real name.”

  “He chose cheese as his stripper name.”

  “He’s not a stripper. Why are you doing this?”

  Shades of Shush again. He pushed his plate away, eggs uneaten. “Sorry, but you were going to have sex with a man called Colby.” Had let the cheese man talk her into having a turkey baster baby. God. Fuck.

  “Dev.”

  “Anyway, you can’t get it on.” Small mercy, but this conversation was making his nose twitch.

  “No, we didn’t get it on, twice now, but it’s not because he couldn’t.”

  She’d seen this guy’s prick—twice. “You got far enough to know that.”

  “Yeah, we got good and naked, hot and sweaty.”

  That made him wince. He should let this go, because this wasn’t what apology sounded like. Not what supportive did. “But you didn’t have sex?”

  “No. I failed to have sex with someone who is so hot he could melt a spatula without a hotplate.”

  “Oh shit!” That’s what the burning smell was. He pulled the spatula away from the rim of the pan. The handle was melted into a blob of plastic.

  “Happy?” Sarina snapped.

  Crud, but he was. He’d have to replace Sarina’s spatula, but he was happy she hadn’t humped some dude with a cheese name and what was that about? It was about dignity and, um, dignity, and something, something. And fuck, he was jealous of a cheese name man who had sex with anyone who paid for it and maybe, probably, saw Sarina naked and had his hands on her body. And he’d never good goddamn had sex with three people in one night but Ana had. What was going on with the world?