Take a Hint, Dani Brown - Talia Hibbert Page 0,100

said slowly, “that might be a good idea. I know sometimes you worry about things being . . . right or wrong, ruined or perfect. But there are shades of gray, too, Zafir.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” He wanted to learn those shades—or rather, to get better at remembering them. He knew he could do it.

But one thing would never change: Zaf loved Danika in bold black-and-white, stark and completely unsubtle, no shades of gray to be found. He loved her absolutely and he loved her uncompromisingly. And if that was all wrong for her, he’d just have to deal with the loss.

Ah, he was so fucking screwed. But at least he wasn’t alone.

Zaf came to a stop, turning to face his sister. “Kiran . . . have I ever said thank you?”

She blinked, raised her eyebrows. “For what?”

“For staying with me. Back then. When Dad and Zain—when they died. I tried to make you leave me alone. Or hate me. But you wouldn’t.”

“Well,” she said with a smile, “you’re impossible to hate.” Then her expression softened. “You stayed with me, too, you know. And Fatima, she couldn’t ask for a better uncle.” Kiran reached up to put a hand on his cheek. “You’re my little brother, Zaf. I love you. I don’t leave you. Your mother and I, Jamal and Fatima, we’re all a family.”

A family. A broken one, true, but broken didn’t mean ruined. He and Danika had broken clean in half this morning, but nothing about her was ruined, either. Because the world wasn’t split into unhappy endings and happily ever afters. There were blessings everywhere and a thousand shades of joy all around him.

Every shade should be savored.

Danika wasn’t entirely sure what death felt like, but she was certain her current state must be close. True, nothing had actually harmed her. And yet, the minute she’d slammed Zaf’s front door behind her, she’d felt as if several vital organs had been wrenched from her body all at once. As if they were trapped on the other side of that door, slamming against the wood to reach her, and she could feel every last bruising smack.

Now, for what felt like the thousandth time today, a sob racked her shoulders, and the hollow of her empty insides ached.

Beside her, on Chloe’s vast, marshmallow-y sofa, Eve grimaced. “Oh dear.” She speared Sorcha with a grave look and murmured, “You did the right thing to bring her here.”

“No, she didn’t.” Dani sobbed (yes, sobbed, again—her tear ducts appeared to be malfunctioning) from beneath a wad of Kleenex.

“And to call me,” Eve continued.

“No, she didn’t.” Dani glared across the living room at her best friend. “When have I ever ratted you out to your sisters, you traitorous . . . lizard!”

Sorcha arched her magnificent eyebrows. The effect was quite severe. “If I ever call you in a flood of tears and request an emergency rescue from the back of some random chip shop because I’m crying too hard to walk home, I give you formal permission to contact whichever of my sisters you wish.” She paused. “Except Aileen. Don’t you dare call Aileen.”

Dani’s attempt at an acerbic response was cut off by her older sister. “Redford,” Chloe said imperiously, phone pressed to her ear, “if you have any dodgy friends who might be persuaded to dump someone in the River Trent, gather them now and tell them I pay very well.”

Dani tried to laugh, but it came out as a choked squeak, accompanied by a bubble of snot.

“Oh, darling.” Eve shuddered, passing her another lavender-scented tissue. “What an atrophied state of affairs.”

“It’s fine,” Dani insisted, after blowing her nose. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” She’d tried, and she’d failed, but that was to be expected, so why should it hurt? It shouldn’t. And neither should the knowledge that Zaf had deluded himself into loving her, because it wasn’t as if she loved him. She’d simply been high on Inez Holly’s approval and had made some shoddy decisions last night. This morning’s events had been a warning shot from the universe, a reminder of who Dani was and the lessons she’d learned about attempting romance. That was all. That was all.

She opened her mouth to explain as much in a clear and calm manner, but all that came out was another ear-splitting wail.

Oops.

“When I picked her up,” Sorcha said grimly, “she was essentially unintelligible, but I did hear Zaf.”

“That’s why I’m calling instead of texting,” Chloe was saying patiently into her mobile. “No paper