Chapter 17 Deepak

Chapter 17 Deepak

DEEPAK: Hey, any word on Olivia?

SANA: What's the hurry? You still have two months before the board meeting. Do you still have feelings for her?

DEEPAK: Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm just checking in because I haven't heard from her since the breakup.

SANA: Sorry. It's complicated. I'll share what I can soon.

Deepak swiped past headlines and the financial news on his tablet at his kitchen island, while he remained completely attuned

to the sound of Veera upstairs. He was pretty sure that living with her was going to be the death of him. Every time she walked

past him in the kitchen or the dining room, he tensed until he felt like his bones would crack. The temptation of her delicious

skin, of the way she smelled of floral shampoo and soap, of the delicate clink of her wedding bangles and the way she twisted

her rings aroused him to the point where he was masturbating in the shower every morning, and sometimes at night.

He was thirty-five years old, and somehow his hormones did not get the message.

Even though it was the weekend, Deepak should go into work. He still had quarterly reports to finish. A part of him wanted to suffer, though, and stay at the house where he'd have the opportunity to spend time with his wife. Even if she wasn't willing to talk to him about their sexy moment the weekend before, he'd be happy just to look at her.

He heard the footsteps on the stairs a moment later and pretended to read the same article he'd been staring at for the last

fifteen minutes.

"Hi," Veera grumbled as she entered the room. The faded Columbia sweatshirt she wore made him smile, but that quickly changed

when he noticed the way she was stomping over to the coffee machine to get a mug. The way her hands clenched around the handle,

the strain lines around her mouth had him putting the tablet down.

"Uh-oh. What happened?"

"What?" she asked, as she turned to face him. Her thick, shining hair swung down her back in loose curls and settled around

her shoulders. "What makes you think something happened?"

"Your face," he said. "Your face is telling me something happened."

She scowled. "It is not."

"It is," he replied. "And you're stalling."

Veera glared at him, then put the cup down. Her lower lip trembled. "I got a text from Sana," she said. Then she cleared her

throat. "Apparently, my father had offered her a position at Illyria Media Group on his team. She didn't take it because she refused to work for him if I didn't,

too."

"Vee, I'm so sorry," Deepak said, as he climbed off his chair. He wasn't sure if he should hug her again when they weren't

in the safe space of his office with Kim right outside the door and his parents down the hall.

Veera surprised him by making the decision for him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, seeking comfort from him the same way she had when she'd run into her father earlier that week. Her hands fisted against the small of his back as he leaned his cheek against her temple.

She smelled deliciously like Vee and he brushed at her sweet-smelling air.

"I hate how mad this made me," she said muffled against his shirt. "Sana loved fighting with people. That's in her DNA. But

I hated pushing clients. Dad always thought that was my biggest weakness."

Deepak nuzzled her temple, feeling the tendrils of hair catch in his beard. "I know that you've come to terms with the relationship

you have with your father, but that doesn't mean his words don't affect you. Sometimes the people we love can hurt us the

most."

She was quiet for a long moment. "That's what I'm afraid of," she said softly.

Veera pulled away and adjusted her sweatshirt. His sweatshirt. "Thanks," she said. "But I'll be fine. I know I'll be fine."

She reached for the coffee mug again.

"Wait," he said. "Why don't we go out for coffee?"

Veera dropped her hand. "Go out for coffee? Why?"

I want to spend time with you. I want to hold your hand, tell people you're my wife, and watch you twist that diamond ring

you always wear even if we're just hanging around the house. I want to look at your beautiful face across a table.

Deepak shrugged. "It's Saturday, and we should take a break. There is this bakery on the next block where the barista does

latte art."

"Latte art?" Veera tapped her fingertips together like an evil genius plotting their next takeover. "What kind of latte art?"

"The kind where the barista does it with a jug of steamed milk. Not the latte art that requires a machine or a little stencil with cinnamon."

Veera wrinkled her nose. "That's not real art."

"That's why you should try this café with me."

Veera looked down at her hoodie and jeans. Then she eyed his shirt and slacks. "Do I have to change?"

"No, you look beautiful."

She flushed.

"Come on," he said, as he picked up his phone. "Live dangerously."

"Fine," she said. "But I am trusting you that I will be getting good latte art."

The storefront had a dark blue canopy with scalloped edges, white font in script, and a tower of macarons in the window display.

Deepak held open the door for Veera as they walked into the small shop with black-and-white-checkered tiled floors, and bistro

tables lining the windows and the wall. The display case was overflowing with breads, scones, croissants, cakes, cookies,

tarts. Two brass espresso machines sat against the wall behind the counter, surrounded by various syrup pumps and stacks of

wide-mouthed coffee mugs.

"This is amazing," Veera said.

"The desserts are great, too," Deepak replied.

They waited until it was their turn to order at the counter.

"What are you going to get?" she asked when they reached the front of the line.

"I'll just have a black coffee."

Veera's eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

"What?"

"Black coffee?" she said. "You're in a bakery, Deepak, not your office kitchen."

"It's really good black coffee," he replied.

Veera shook her head. She leaned against the counter and smiled at the petite French woman who was now ready to take their

order. "Hi! We'll get a black coffee, a vanilla latte, a croissant, and a blueberry scone."

Deepak glanced back at Veera. A blueberry scone was his favorite. His mouth was watering at the thought of that crumbly sweet

texture on his tongue. He just hadn't eaten one in a while because it had been some time since he'd made it to his gym. He

had to pass Veera's room to work out.

Before he could move to pay, she'd whipped out her card and tapped it against the machine.

"Veera," he said in his most aggrieved tone. "How am I supposed to be the doting husband if I can't even buy your coffee?"

She snorted. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Thankfully, Veera's back was turned, and she was walking toward one of the empty bistro tables against the window when she

spoke. If she had seen his face, then she'd have known exactly what he was thinking.

She hadn't corrected him and called him her fake husband.

Deepak needed a moment to collect himself since her casual acceptance of their relationship rushed through his veins, flooding

his brain with euphoria. He walked over to the pickup window and waited for their drinks and dessert. The tray arrived a moment

later, and he carried it to the seating area opposite the order counter and placed it on a small, round bistro table in front

of Veera.

She looked so happy when she saw the image of the rose on her latte. The sun shone through the window and kissed the curve of her cheeks. Her messy topknot drooped to one side, and her knees pressed against the insides of his thighs as he sat across from her. Her ring sparkled when she adjusted the mug for a picture.

Deepak couldn't deal with the sexual tension any longer. He kept thinking about the night at his parents' house, and how desperately

he wanted a redo.

"Vee? We need to talk," he said.

She looked up from her phone that hovered inches above her mug. "Oh? About what?"

He slipped the device from her hand, so she didn't drop it into their drinks. "About last weekend," he said.

Veera's legs jerked against his, and he pressed his knees together, holding her captive, so she didn't bolt.

"What do we have to talk about? I thought your parents liked me."

Deepak shook his head. She was so easy to read, he thought. "You know what it's about. I want to know if you were okay with

what we did. I didn't hurt you, or—"

"Oh, is that why you're worried?" She let out a deep breath. "No, you didn't hurt me. We can just—"

"I don't want to forget about it," he said. His heart was pounding so hard that he made a mental note to talk to Prem again

about a doctor's appointment. "I don't want to forget."

Veera gaped. She glanced around the café, at the two tables nearby with patrons in conversations of their own. Then she cupped

her mug. When her hands trembled, she reached for the croissant again and tore off a large piece.

Deepak knew that this was probably the worst-case scenario. She was rejecting him.

"Never mind, if you don't want to—"

"I do," she said. Her jaw clenched and he saw the muscles in her throat flex as she swallowed hard. "Deepak, I don't know

if we should complicate our lives even more than they already are."

She was so damn beautiful with sunbeams on her face. Deepak knew he couldn't go back to just friendship when now he was seeing her as the most stunningly brilliant part of his life.

"This is not complicated," he said softly.

Veera shook her head. "No, sex is always complicated."

They sat in silence, staring at the scone and croissant on small saucers rimmed in a blue paisley design. There were so many

things he wanted to tell her, so many regrets he had about wasted time they could've spent together.

Then Veera picked up the scone and moved it forward so that it sat on his side of the tray. "Here," she said. "I ordered too

much. You should eat this."

She'd ordered the scone for him. How did she know that he liked blueberry? He'd never eaten a blueberry scone in front of

her before.

Deepak stood from his chair and leaned over the table. He touched her cheek with his free hand and waited until her lips parted

in surprise before he pressed a kiss against her upturned mouth. It was firm and hot, filled with all the pent-up frustration

he'd been holding back. The taste of her was every bit as delicious as a delicate French pastry, he thought as his tongue

slowly tangled with hers. He pulled away, scraping his teeth along her plump lower lip, aching for this woman that he wanted

to belong to him in every way.

When he sat back, he had the satisfaction of hearing her shuddering breath. Deepak tore off a corner of the blueberry scone,

then picked up his coffee. He waited for her to do the same with her latte and croissant before he spoke.

"I'll wait to talk about this more when you're ready."

"O-okay."

"Okay. So how is the reception planning going with Bobbi?"