Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,79
the ones he’d just heard.
“I just kept thinking that she gave birth to me on this day—that we were as close as we’d ever been when I was inside her and...” My throat got tight, and I blinked quickly. “I don’t want to forget her.”
He reached across the table and rubbed my shoulder. I was still trying to get used to this new dad—the one who was emotionally available, who listened to hear instead of reply. “I'm sorry we don't talk about her more,” he said.
I wanted to say it was okay, but it really wasn't. I missed my mom, and while he’d thrown himself into the business, I’d had nothing left. Beth had been basically a stranger then. My friends at school didn't understand what I was going through. Fifth graders were hardly a font of empathy. And even the people who were sorry stopped being as sorry as time went on. To them, it was old news, leaving me to mourn alone. There had been little reminders everywhere. The fact that no one braided my hair after showers so it would be wavy the next day. The missing scent of spice tea when I got home from school. The prepped meals that populated our fridge instead of fresh ingredients carefully selected from the store.
“I miss her,” I finally said.
“Me too,” Dad said softly. “She loved you so much.”
I nodded, my throat feeling tight. “She loved you too. Do you remember the way you guys used to kiss in the kitchen when you thought I wasn't looking?”
He chuckled. “When you have a little one running around and a business to run, there's not much time to sneak a kiss.”
“You didn't need to sneak,” I said. “I always wanted a marriage like yours.”
His eyes were soft. “And I think that's why I need to let you choose.”
We hadn't brought up the topic of arranged marriage, since the wound was still so fresh, but I was surprised he was speaking so openly about it now. “You mean... a love marriage? But you’ve always talked about arranging a marriage for me.”
He took another bite and shook his head. “Life was different in India twenty years ago. We are somewhere new, around new people, new challenges. You're clearly up to the task.”
My eyes widened. “So I get to decide? No questions asked?”
“When you want to get married, if you want to get married, I will support you.”
Relief washed over my entire body, making me feel lighter than I had in months, and tears poured down my cheeks. I didn't have anyone in mind to marry, and maybe I wouldn't ever get married, but I loved that if I ever got another chance with Ronan, I wouldn't have to worry about what my father would think. Who I might betray in the process of following my heart.
“That's a pretty good eighteenth birthday gift,” I said, wiping my eyes.
He grinned. “I actually have another one.”
My eyebrows rose, and I glanced around the house not seeing anything wrapped or new. “What is it?”
He glanced at the clock. “Give me about ten more seconds.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door.
He tilted his head toward the entryway, and I got up to answer it.
I thought maybe he had invited my friends over for a midday birthday celebration, but when I checked the peephole, I didn't recognize the woman who stood at the door. She was thin, with wildly curly hair and big glasses. She seemed familiar, but I knew I didn't know her.
I swung the door open to see who she was.
“Zara?” she asked. She extended her dainty hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Awkwardly, I took her hand back. She was my present? How?
Dad was standing behind me. “Nattie, nice to see you.”
That name was definitely familiar. “Nattie Jones? You wrote…”
“When We Were Free,” she said. “May I come inside?”
I realized how rude I was being, making her stand in the doorway. “Come in,” I said, stepping out of the way.
She walked inside and said, “It smells delicious.”
I smiled. It wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to tell my dad that. “It's my mother’s curry recipe. Would you like some?”
“Absolutely,” she said, her eyes shining. She was one of those people you felt an instant connection to without ever having shared a word. It made me curious to know her better. To understand her story.
While she and my dad greeted each other, I went to the cabinet for a bowl and made her a dish, along with