Her flu persists for a couple of days. Ryan calls in a doctor - an elderly lady with a happy face who doesn't miss the chance to say, "Your man is doing a great job in taking care of you."
Shay feels too weak to argue but does she truly hate the idea of having Ryan as her man?
The next two days, she spends the day either sleeping or watching Ryan walk around the house with an earpiece and laptop. When he is not working or attending meetings, he is either checking her temperature, running her a hot shower or forcing fluids. Her menu is brought down to fruits and soup which she swears not to touch for a month once she is out of this misery.
At least she now has her pajamas to wear, not that Shay had any complaints wearing his shirts with his lingering scent. But she doesn't want to behave like a total creep, so she agrees when Ryan offers to bring her things from her apartment. At first, the idea of Ryan going through her dresser doesn't seem very comfortable, but she is too nonfunctional to care about hiding her collection of sexy dresses and undergarments from him.
However, when she finally gains some strength on the third day and goes through her sleeping bag, her jaw almost drops, and her cheeks turn red. Because there, among her pajamas and comparatively average-looking clothes, she finds her black lacy underwear. Not just the one he saw the first time he visited her apartment but each one in her collection. He sure has some fascination over it, but he doesn't show it openly.
She wonders how long he will keep it to himself.
Ryan spends the days working from home, but doesn't allow her to open her office laptop, not even when she offers to take two servings of his vegetable soup, which she has started to despise abso-fucking-lutely.
But there are other things about him that she has started to like and even love. Like the times when he combs her hair because her limbs are too shaky to do so and the way he binds them into a very ugly looking braid, and when he holds her at night because the damn nightmare won't let her rest. She loves when he places goodnight kisses on her forehead and loves to watch him sleep on the couch beside the bed.
By the morning of the fourth day, she feels healthy enough to take a long relaxing bath before Ryan wakes up and sputters around the house doing laundry. She seems more lively here in his apartment than she ever was on her own. The realization dawns upon her that this isn't her permanent habitat. She has to return to her apartment sooner, if not later. But does that fill her heart with dread? Absolutely, yes. Because she knows she doesn't want to return to the same vicious cycle of grief.
Shay gives an early morning call to her mother in India. The difference in IST and EST timings has started getting on her nerves lately. Most mornings, she has to host meetings with the clients, and when she gets back home after work, it's too late to Facetime her parents. Weekends are their only family bonding time.
"You look so pale, Shay." Her mother has those angry lines of distress on her forehead. "Are you not eating well lately?"
"I caught the flu, and before you lecture me for not telling you, it's cured now, and I'm sorry." Shay looks at her mother on the screen apologetically. She shouldn't have withheld it from her. The look on her mother's face clearly shows her mom may book the next flight to New York, burst into her apartment, and either hug her and cry or beat the shit out of her. At this moment, she's weak enough to defend herself against either one of them.
"I'm glad that Arnab is there to take care of you." Her mother says with a sigh. Shay has to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
"Ma, about that,"—she looks down at her toes to avoid looking into her mother's eyes and nibbles on her bottom lip—"I have to tell you something about Arnab, but you have to promise that you won't tell papa. He will flip out completely and I don't want that."
***
Her mother was the one to flip first when Shay told her about Arnab's disrespectful behavior. It took her a good one hour to calm her mother down and convince her not to sue his sorry ass.
Now Shay flops down on the couch face first, tired from a two-hour-long facetime session with her mom. Her limbs are still sore from the recently cured flu, and her head still feels heavy. She groans and looks at the coffee machine longingly but then decides to take a nap instead. After all, Ryan's still asleep, and she doesn't feel so energetic herself.
***
She wakes up to the drumming sound. It's faint and filtering to her from far away. Shay isn't in the same position as she fell asleep. A blanket is covering her body, much to her relief because damn, the living room is freezing. She takes a look at the weather outside, and it's practically the same as the last few days, cloudy and drizzling.
She wipes the sleep, and the tangled waves from her eyes, jumps out of the couch and wraps the blanket around her shivering frame. Her feet bounces with each step due to freezing tiles as she climbs up the stairs to the second floor. The sound of the drums gets closer as she walks down the hallway to the last room.
Ryan is behind the drums, wearing loose track pants and nothing to cover up his artistic torso, a tangle of black hair sweeping across his forehead. God, she feels like throwing away the blankets, because damn, her cheeks are on fire. Covered in sweat, eyes lost in the musical instrument in front of him and the drumsticks between his skilled fingers with those damn rings, he looks ravishing. He's drumming with raw passion, his face twisting, brows knitting as he hits the drums like they are an outlet for his pain or whatever he keeps hiding behind his stern demeanor. A bottle of Jack sits on the floor next to him within reach, which he has taken twice since she walked into the room.
Shay doesn't want to interrupt him because, while she leans on the door and listens to his angry music, she feels he is reaching out to her. It's like what he can't say- he is drumming those words out.
She can't follow the tune, but it's sad, very, very sad, and agonizingly intense.
He ends with a thundering rumble, a painful one, and it almost grips her heart in a life-ending hold. She doesn't even realize when tears pool her eyes, rolling down as Ryan hits the cymbal with an ending clash, breathing hard, his chest heaving wild and his hands shaking. He rakes his hand through his sweaty hair and reaches down for the bottle of liquor, noticing Shay in the process. "Hey, little Shally, were you here the whole time?"
Shay shakes her head and gives him a weak smile. But the sad smile barely resting on the corners of his lips makes it difficult not to walk over and cry holding him. After all, he held her through her nightmares and showed her how not to hold on to pain. Can't she do the same for him?
He brings the bottle to his lips, but before he can down the whiskey, Shay walks up to him and takes it out of his hold. "You don't have to pretend in front of me, Ry. I know you miss him too. A hell of a lot more than me."
Since there is only one chair in the room, Shay goes on to sit on the floor. Ryan doesn't let her, though. He holds her shoulder and stops her. At this point, Shay doesn't feel uncomfortable or guilty or even reluctant to sit on his lap and curl fingers around his neck.
"What are you doing, Shay?" He mumbles, going still for a second, but his muscles relax against her when she buries her head in his neck, warm pools of her eyes mixing with his sweat. "Why are you crying?"
This man.
"Stop it, Ry. Just stop it. Stop asking so many questions." She grits out against his neck. "Let me hold you, okay?"
"Okay," he mumbles against her hair, then pulls her head off of his neck. He wipes away the streams of tears and places a palm against her cheek, using the drumsticks to tuck the strands of her hair behind her ear. Her skin tingles with the touch, both his palm and the wood. He's again looking at her as if she is a mystery, and he can't seem to stop unraveling her. His gaze is intense, needy. His thumb ends up brushing over her lips, and she doesn't know why but she bites it lightly. His eyes turn darker, and his nostrils flare as he sucks in a deep breath.
What the fuck is she doing? But she doesn't care.
This time they both lean in together, but he holds her head firmly, just a breath away, their lips touching a gentle whisper. "Twice, Shay. We kissed twice, and both times were not perfect, not our moment. I cannot let that repeat. The next time we kiss, it will not be because I am sad, or you are sad, or we are falling apart. But because we want it. It will be our moment with all our grief and happy possibilities of togetherness."
Shay pretends to whine and pout, which makes him laugh. They stay like that, her sitting on his lap, her fingers tracing each of his tattoos, loving it when he shivers under her touch. Shay feels restless with his scent heightening her senses and him running lazy circles on her covered thigh with his fingers.
She is happy and refuses to let herself fall back into the cycle of grief, torments of past loss, the ever-present guilt, and the fact that she still misses Aarav.
A part of her will always miss Aarav, the one who feels guilty to seek that same love in another man. That another man being his twin brother is a living, breathing reason for her not falling for Ryan completely, and that's something she'll have to live with.
***
"Wine is not a wise choice of drink just after recovering from a god awful flu," Ryan says, eyeing the glass of wine in her hand. "Not that it matters if you wanna spend another week locked up in my loft."
"Is that a chivalrous way of asking me to stop freeloading at your place?" Shay sniggers, a little light-headed from the second glass. She sits criss cross applesauce as he settles beside her on the couch, holding his drink. "Besides, if you make me drink another one of your vegetable soups, I'm sure I will be dead by tomorrow morning."
"You still behave like a child." He takes a sip of his wine and balances the glass on his thigh, leaning his head on the back of the couch. He is only a foot separated from her knees, almost brushing his strong thighs straining against the denim of his pants. "And no, I'm not asking you to stop letting me serve you. I've already wasted seven years. I don't want to waste another second of my time that's left with you."
His words draw away all the buzz she managed from the wine.
My time that's left with you.
My time that's left with you.
"What do you mean by that?"
"That you shouldn't be eating pizza and drinking wine."
"Oh, relax, Ry. It's just wine. It's not like I'm not used to drinking more than an average twenty-six-year-old should drink."
They wrapped up their office work an hour ago and ordered dinner. It feels domestic to follow these chores with Ryan. Almost like two normal people working together, eating dinner, drinking wine. She'd been able to keep memories of Aarav resurfacing while talking about their good old school days. They'd talked about their college adventures and friend circle, which Shay had very little to share.
Now, they sit on the couch sipping wine and looking into each other's eyes, a news channel plays in the background. As they relax into a calm conversation, she again feels the same tension that has been simmering between them since they kissed.
Maybe, it's the wine buzzing in her veins, but she can't stop admiring the tousled mop of black hair, his sinewy, built figure, and his signature scowls, all of it screaming to be admired by any sane woman around him.
He finishes his glass in one big gulp, turning to face Shay and angling his head towards the bedroom upstairs. "You should head to bed."
"Yes, I should." She mimics his action and downs the red liquid before placing the empty glass on the table. The clatter of it against the ottoman rings through the silence between them.
"I guess you don't need me beside your bed tonight, so I will just sleep here on the couch."
"You probably should," Shay says in a deep voice, a little slurred due to the dizziness induced by wine.
He smiles, and it's one of his rare ones, a little easy-going, a much-needed deviation from his grumpy groans, and it reaches deep in her skin, endearingly stroking her.
When was the last time she felt this comfortable around another man? Never to be precise. Not after Aarav. And it's a very different kind of feeling altogether. She doesn't just want to live in his ease but wants to make him feel what has been going on in her mind.
His smile drops, and his eyes capture the movement as she runs her tongue across her lips. "I should get you a glass of water and ibuprofen because I don't want you to fall sick-"
Shay leans in before he can finish, and their lips collide in an urgent, needy, and longing kiss. It starts as the soft brush of lips, tentative and unsure because either one of them can retreat from it any moment now, only that this time they don't. She presses on a little harder when he doesn't back away. Her lips tremble due to the nerves that it is wrong and the excitement that she doesn't want to stop.
She shifts her hand on his shoulder while keeping a firm hold of the couch with the other and swipes her tongue across his bottom lip, loving the soft feel of his skin, tasting the wine on it. A small voice forms at the back of her throat, and it is enough to shred the thread of control holding Ryan together. A deep groan rumbles from his chest, and the one-sided brush of lips turns wild as Ryan finally takes control.
His hands move to her waist and hold Shay against him in a possessive grip. Ryan tilts his head and presses his tongue against the seam of her lips, a demand for entrance. Shay is too far gone not to respond and obliges instantly, their tongues meeting each other halfway, tasting the raw passion and wine they have consumed.
He pulls her closer, settling her right on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs, straddling him. Holding the back of her head with one hand while keeping a firm hold on her hips, he continues to kiss her. Ryan is kissing Shay. At this point, there is no semblance of the past between them. It is blood-pumping and heart-shattering, tangible and real.
He kisses her with barely contained ferocity, deeply and makes her melt against him. The thick ridge of his arousal meets her core through the thin fabric of her dress, and she can feel herself craving for the contact. While his mouth makes love to her mouth, all she can do to keep herself upright is give in to her body's need, moving her hips in a slow sinful rhythm, whimpering, gaining friction. Meanwhile, he never lets go of her lips. The man doesn't do half-assed things. Now that he has decided to take control, he kisses her in a way that takes her breath away.
Shay holds onto his shoulder to gain some upper hand, but the only one in control here is him. Her cheeks flame as he guides her back and forth, making her ache for him even more.
"You're so fucking hot," he growls into the kiss. His hand moves to her cheek, stroking the scars there as if he wants to make love to them just like her mouth. "You make me crazy, Shay."
When she gasps into his mouth, starting to tip off the edge, he pulls back. His midnight black eyes capture her, forming an intimate connection between them, something undeniable and palpable, impossible to break. They will either grow into something beautiful or they won't. His hands hold her in place as she floats back to earth and back to her senses. She leans in to shower breathless kisses along his jaw, right over his scars.
"Is it always like this? Or is it something rare? I've never felt like this with anyone, not even with Aarav." The words leave her mind in a post-orgasmic haze, and both of them stiffen with Aarav's name.
"This shouldn't have happened." His gaze shudders in a flash, his eyes cold. He brushes the ring around her finger. "I'm not here to fill the gaps he left behind. This. Whatever is between us is some strange chemistry because of our connection with Aarav, and I don't want to be his better replacement, Shay."
She blinks, her mind coming down from the high and instantly burning under the impact of his words. And suddenly, with that comes waves and waves of shame, guilt, and tears.
"Shit, Shit. Shay? I didn't mean it. I did this. God, damn it." He curses, nuzzling her wet face with his nose. "I shouldn't have lost control. I'm such an asshole." He presses his palm to his forehead.
"No," Shay chokes out, sliding away from him. "Not you, Ry. It's me. I'm the one who is an asshole," She breathes, gulping air and tugging at her hair. "I feel so much with you. It's so much more mature, completely different. So much more than I was ever allowed to feel with Aarav." And those last words make her shudder with another gut-wrenching sob.
"Come here," Ryan gathers her back to his chest tighter and whispers apologies against her hair. "Sometimes, we lose the ones we love before we could even understand how to love them properly. It's cruel and soul-shattering, but it's the truth, Shay. He was my baby brother."
Shay twists in his hold, looking up at him with teary eyes. "Just ten minutes younger. His ghost will haunt you if you call him your baby brother one more time. It always annoyed him."
"And what makes you think his ghost doesn't haunt me every single night." The words are as sad as his eyes. "I want him back, but that's one singular thing I can't have in this lifetime." He laughs a rough bark. "You can't make peace with the fact, though. You can't stop mapping the what-ifs. You don't stop loving, or you don't stop remembering. And by the time you know it, you've already lived a decade without that person. Then you look for a reason to go back to the way you felt when they were around, and you realize you've started forgetting the little details. The way they smelled, the way their skin felt, their voice, their laughter. And then one day you become this whole new person, trying to live without a part of your soul."
"And how do you not miss the other part of your soul, the one who still belongs to the departed?" Shay asks because she needs to know.
They sit up, facing each other, her sitting cross-legged and him sitting sideways. "I don't know, Shay. How do two broken souls, each missing a part, survive?"
He wants her to answer.
"Connecting as one complete soul," Shay whispers the answer in a long silence.
He finally takes her hands and rubs her knuckles with his thumbs. "It doesn't have to be the twin brother or the lover they left behind. It can be anyone. The point is you learn to be okay and fall in love again. Move on. One day at a time. One breath at a time."
Her lips tremble with a dying sob, and this time she is sure it is for a whole new reason. "With anyone?"
He brushes her chin with his fingers, tilting her face to his. But this time, he leans in and touches her lips with his. "Or the one we're looking at now, Shilly-Shally."
A smile spreads across her lips. "I love it when you call me Shally."
***
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Here's another long chapter for you guys. I wanted to have Ryan and Shay a long due intimacy. So, here's a sweet and hot chapter. Let me know if you feel as strongly as I feel for them.
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Stay safe!