I drive an hour to my favorite salon to get my nails done. I don’t give a damn what else is on my to-do list; this is nonnegotiable. Major or minor, if something keeps you human when pressure makes you feel like a volcano, hold on to that thing by whatever means necessary.”
“I see,” Dani said quietly, letting those words sink in. “I—thank you.” It was a shame she couldn’t be more eloquent, but she was still grappling with the mental fence she’d created, the one that wouldn’t stay put. Because every time she thought joy, Zaf zipped to the front of Dani’s mind and refused to vacate.
Teasing him at lunch in front of sneaky camera phones, shagging like rabbits as if sex were vital to their continued existence, watching him make dinner from the corner of her eye as she tried to concentrate on research. It was mortifying and inconvenient and sure to bite her in the backside, but clearly . . . clearly, joy was Zaf.
The realization left her dazed, even if it wasn’t entirely out of the blue. The giddy, tender swirl of her feelings shouldn’t matter: you weren’t supposed to put your happiness in someone else’s hands. It never worked. It was foolish. It was dangerous. Only, Dani had been struggling for a while to see any part of Zaf as dangerous, not when he looked at her as if she were the world. Now here was Inez Holly herself, like an unwitting sign from the universe, telling Dani to stop stalling, stop making him wait, and choose joy.
This was a sign, wasn’t it? Clear as vodka, and just as intoxicating. Especially when mixed into the cocktail of today’s success.
Dani thanked Inez Holly again, possibly a little too profusely. Then Inez Holly wrote down the shade of Dani’s lipstick, which was rather thrilling, and took Dani’s email address, because “It’s always good to stay in touch,” which was excessively thrilling, and by the time Dani left those toilets she felt as if she could rule the world.
She strode back into the reception hall and saw Zaf instantly. He was leaning against a faux-marble column, wearing his usual resting bitch face, and for once, she let herself smile soppily at the sight of him. After all, Inez Holly had practically told her it was safe. And Dani was hardly one to avoid such an obvious cosmic hint.
“Hey.” He grinned as she rushed into his arms. “Whoa. You’re cheerful.”
“Yes. I’m going to start jogging.”
“Er . . .”
“I used to run long distance at school,” she said. “I liked it.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“I think I want to try breeding orchids.”
Zaf burst out laughing. “What the hell did you find in the bathroom? Cocaine?”
“Inez Holly,” she told him breathlessly.
“What?” Pure excitement spread over his face. Then he said, “Did you talk to her?” And Dani realized that excitement was for her.
Zaf felt things for her. She knew because she felt things for him, too, bright and terrifying, like a brand-new sun over a world that had been dark for ages. She should be afraid—and part of her was.
But in that moment, she felt so powerful, and he felt so precious, and the thought of letting him go was impossible. Impossible. She couldn’t let it happen.
So instead of answering his question, she pulled back and told him quietly, “You . . . you’re supposed to be my perfect fuck buddy.”
His eyebrows flew up, and his mouth tightened. “Yeah. I know.”
“Which means, amongst other things, not getting attached.”
His expression turned wary. Or maybe guilty.
“The trouble is,” she went on, “I think I’ve gotten quite attached to . . . to the way you make me feel. And to making you feel—oh, I don’t know. I don’t know how I make you feel, but I like trying to make you—smile.” Her voice was choked and strange, and her words tasted like little white lies. If she were an honest woman, she would say, I love to make you smile.
Because the mortifying truth was this: Dani had grappled with ravenous affection for Zafir Ansari far longer than she liked to admit. She’d tried to turn away from it, but suddenly she couldn’t remember why. Zaf wasn’t like anyone else she’d been with, and their relationship didn’t have to fit some romantic ideal she would never measure up to. All they had to do was keep things exactly as they were. If they stayed like this—just like this—everything would be fine.