& Then They Wed (Ampersand Love #2)

20. A Grinch and his Who

20

A Grinch and his Who

Rian

R ian sat the clear plastic box on his gleaming countertop, the overhead light making the mango coulis shine atop the cheesecake.

His intention had been to surprise Aditi with something to indulge in, listening to her exuberantly express her adoration for all things mango. He had wanted to make her happy.

He’d failed.

The drive home had been excruciatingly silent. Every time he’d tried to speak, he’d lost his guts, the stiffness in her posture dissuading him from breaching the wall she’d erected.

Aditi had greeted Nanamma at home with a cheerfulness that was forced, drawing her into a conversation until both ladies had retired to their respective rooms.

The entire time, she had not spared him a glance. If this was an indication of her behaviour with him in future, Rian wasn’t sure he would survive it .

He checked his phone. The read notification told him she’d seen his message, but confirmed his fear. She was avoiding him.

He walked on leaded feet towards the hallway, noticing the lights under her door. He approached her room, apprehension and fear twisting his gut. What if she refused to speak with him? He rapped his knuckles against the wooden panel before he could change his mind. A moment later, the door cracked open to reveal her in her old, now familiar, pyjamas.

Aditi watched Rian open his mouth before closing it, evidently unsure of himself.

“I brought you dessert,” he said, wincing at his lame opening line.

She didn’t respond, and his wavering confidence plunged even lower.

“Doc, I. . .”

She turned away, heading for the armchair in the corner of her room. She turned on the small TV on her side wall, flipping through the channels. Rian stepped in and cleared his throat.

“You can watch whatever you want on the big screen in the living room. You don’t have to stay here.”

She didn’t acknowledge him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, fighting the urge to rip the stupid TV off the wall. He hated this awkwardness. “Will you please say something?”

“Okay,” she tossed out, eyes glued to the screen.

“That’s it?”

“Hmm.”

He left the room, confused. A moment later, he barged back in, standing directly in her line of vision.

“You won’t ask why I acted like a jerk?” The idea that she might not care enough to know his reason for behaving out of the ordinary bothered him. His restlessness was turning into a desperation for Aditi’s forgiveness.

Brown eyes pinned him for a moment, and he almost stopped breathing. Hurt and fear swirled in those chocolatey depths. Her chin trembled, the small flare of her nostrils telling him that she was reining in her feelings.

She was hiding from him. He knew instinctively that she would not ask him for clarification. The freedom she’d thought she had before—questioning him, teasing him, being silly with him—he’d snatched that away in one cruel moment.

Regret and shame washed over him, the weight of his actions unbearable. If he wanted her to feel free around him again, he would have to take the first step. He’d have to lay himself open and let her see the scars he’d always kept hidden.

Aditi fought hard not to rear back when Rian approached her and held his hand out. “Please."

She didn’t know what made her do it, but she allowed him to lead her out to the kitchen. She stood silently, trepidation and anxiety filling her when he pulled out a spoon and scooped a piece of the cake, holding it out for her.

The look of incredulity she shot him had him feeling like a fool. Rian sighed, his hand dropping to the counter.

“I know you have no reason to do as I ask, but please, can you give me a chance?”

Just when he thought she would refuse, Aditi picked up the spoon and took a bite. The stirring of relief he felt boosted his courage. He pulled out his phone and tapped on a music app.

“Pick a song.”

Her expression turned mulish. Accepting defeat, he pressed play on something he hoped she would like.

“Dance?”

Apparently this was her limit because Aditi whipped around, fully intending to walk away.

Rian rushed to block her path. “Please, Doc.” His hands itched to hold her so that she wouldn’t leave. She glared at him.

“What do you think you’re doing? Dance? Really? Are you having fun at my expense?” Her voice wavered, unable to hide how upsetting she found his behaviour.

“No!” He ran a hand over his face, drawing it down to rub his jaw. This was going to be uncomfortable, but he owed Aditi an explanation. He felt helpless when she watched him with such wariness. “I’m not making fun of you. I am trying to correct all the things I did wrong this evening and all I ask is that you give me a little time. If, after you hear me out, you’re still angry, I’ll leave you alone.”

His honesty worked in his favour. Her forehead creased when he stepped closer, but she didn’t stop him from taking her hand in his and bringing her closer, assuming the most common slow-dancing stance known to the world.

One large palm pressed into the low of her back as their feet began to move, matching the gentle tempo of the tune he’d played. Despite the tension between them, Aditi sighed when Rian’s chin settled on her crown. It was ridiculous that this simple gesture made her want to wail. Why could she not resist the comfort of him when it was also him who’d caused her discomfort? How was he both the source of pain and the solution for it?

For what felt like a long time, all they did was sway together in the middle of the kitchen, the music and each other’s touch having a calming effect on them both.

"Growing up, I liked music.” His words were soft and carefully measured. "I was told I had a good voice, but I didn’t like to sing in front of people. Stage fear, perhaps. My parents used to host massive parties at our family home. Even after my father fell ill, my mother continued to throw these galas that were the talk of town for days. She craved the attention she garnered as the hostess. One evening, she forced me on stage, announcing to everyone I would entertain them. I froze. I couldn’t get a sound out. ”

His chest rose in a deep breath, and she felt the soft shudder with which he released it.

“She was spitting mad at me for making her look bad.”

His eyes stung, old wounds reopening, Leela’s venomous declaration that night clear despite the passage of time.

You’re a curse to me. Instead of making me proud, you made me look like an idiot for having such a stupid son. Others boast of how accomplished their children are but you've been nothing but a disappointment to me. My image, my happiness, my pride— damaged because of you and your failures! You're a stupid, worthless fool. Everything you touch, you destroy. That is your legacy. I wish I’d never given birth to you.

“She dragged me out onto the grounds beside our house, berating me for embarrassing her in front of her guests. My apologies did not matter. She left me there with a warning not to step back in the house until she forgave me.”

His eyes glazed over, remembering the chill of the night, the wetness of the ground as it drizzled on and off around him. He’d huddled under a tree, beyond afraid of the deep darkness around him, but terrified of his mother’s wrath if he sought safety inside the massive structure that was meant to be his home. Exhausted from crying, he’d eventually fallen asleep in the dirt and had been found in the wee hours of the morning by a security guard patrolling their gardens. His mother, drunk and in her own world, had never bothered to return for him.

“I couldn't stand to talk in public forums, much less sing, after that,” he admitted, his throat hoarse.

Sensing his torment, Aditi’s hand on his chest moved in a soft arc, back and forth, right over his heart. "Thank you for telling me. I understand why you reacted the way you did. I should have known you had a reason."

Her easy acceptance astounded him .

"She was there at the restaurant today. That’s why I had to stay back. And she managed to make me feel like shit again. I wasn’t in my right mind at the club and I took it out on you.” His voice cracked, laced with regret. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back."

"I know I can be too much. That’s why I said you needed a safe word, too. I should have backed off when you said no once. I won’t do it again."

The understanding that this condemnation of herself was a reflection of his behaviour wounded him far more than she’d ever know. Repentant, he held her a little closer, hoping that he could convince her of his true feelings.

"Too much? Yes, I suppose you are.”

Aditi stilled, nose prickling at his agreement.

“You’re too nice,” he continued. “Too understanding. Too friendly, honest, and forgiving in a world that isn’t any of that. But that’s your strength.”

Aditi drew away from him, clearly unwilling to give credence to his words. Their eyes met, and whatever Rian saw caused him to bridge the gap between them once more. He cupped her cheeks, lifting her face such that she was forced to meet his gaze.

"What happened today was my fault. If anyone should feel shame, it's me. You did nothing wrong.” Some of the hurt receded from her eyes. “Promise me you won’t change the way you are with me. Promise me you won't hold yourself back because of what I did."

She nodded, her hesitation slowly ebbing. She had no armour strong enough to deny Rian what he asked after he’d laid himself bare. She had never realised how much he’d hidden behind his sweet and silent exterior.

“Did I make you cry?” he asked.

“Almost,” she whispered.

Under the soft glow of the lamps around them, it was impossible to hide anything. Her gaze flitted over features that had become so familiar to her in a short time, recognizing now the source of his unhappiness. The melancholy he’d become proficient at concealing had emerged today, and Aditi was left stunned at the revelation.

"My mother is not a good person, Doc. I hope your paths never cross. I wouldn't want her shadow to touch you."

Her inability to console him appropriately frustrated her. How did one find words to dull the cut left behind on a young child by his mother’s meaningless hatred?

“Did she hit you?” she questioned, her instinct warning her of the possibility.

He hesitated for a second before he loosened his hold on her. He’d never revealed this to anyone else. He was finally speaking honestly about his struggles, and if he stopped now, he may never find it in him to discuss this again.

“She threw a tantrum at breakfast once because her friend’s son scored better at school than I did. Swiped the entire table of food in anger before throwing a crystal glass at me.” He extended his arm, folding his sleeves to reveal a tattoo on his lower bicep. It was a solid line that covered the circumference of his muscle, interrupted by two open arrowheads pointing up. Upon closer inspection, she saw the scar along which the tattoo was set. “It's the only time she left a mark.”

Aditi traced the jagged edge of his wound with the gentlest of touches, as though fearful of causing him pain again.

“I couldn’t read properly for a long time so school was tough. Unable to focus, unable to stay organised. I wasn’t a good son, I wasn’t a good student, I wasn’t good enough—plain and simple.”

“That seems like a terrible criteria to judge a child.”

He let out a disappointed breath, wishing everyone thought like her. “She believed I was a lazy brat who brought her shame by not being a beacon of perfection. The older I got, the worse her reaction to my failures. I think she only stopped because I grew bigger than her. She couldn’t intimidate me with her size after a certain point.” It had been why he’d obsessively worked out as a teen, wanting to be stronger outside so he could feel stronger inside.

"You didn't have an easy childhood, did you?”

He shrugged, unwilling to linger on it longer than necessary. He wasn't certain he deserved Aditi’s understanding. That she was empathising with him instead of tearing him apart for his mistake was unsettling.

"I had money. A big house. Staff who cared for me as much as they were allowed to. I suspect one of them finally told Nanamma. She did her best to protect me after she found out. I was fourteen by then.”

"Sounds lonely for a young boy." Her fingers left his skin, making him wish for contact again. Somehow, it was easy to confess to the hard things when she was touching him.

"If it is any consolation,” she finally said, “you did an admirable job of growing up."

"Even after how I behaved today?” he asked bitterly, unable to hold back a self-deprecating laugh.

"You're a good person, Bugs. One argument doesn’t change that. One mistake doesn’t define who you are for me.”

"You only say that because you don't know what I've done."

Aditi rolled her eyes and stood back, arms crossed. "Unless you murdered someone in cold blood, I'm sticking to what I said. Rian Shetty is a pretty nice guy and I don't mind him one bit."

The sudden return of her sass made it feel like there was air in his lungs again. Unable to help it, he laughed, just once, but it was enough for the edges of her mouth to tip up. "Talk about damning with faint praise.”

"Don't want you to get a big head, do we?" she teased.

Finally, his world was righting itself. He would have spiralled into anger and self-hate if she hadn't been around. "Thanks," he said, glad for who she was.

"See?” she clucked, readily moving on from their fight. “Again with the nice guy behaviour. Can I tell you a secret? It's more fun when you're grumpy and I can be the sunshine girl."

Bantering with her brought with it a happiness he’d feared he’d lost. He almost kissed her in relief.

"Isn’t that a book trope you keep harping about?" he asked, smiling softly.

"Yeah. Sometimes, I wonder if I got into the wrong profession. I should have done something with books."

No, he thought. She was a healer, through and through. She made people feel safe and cared for. No wonder her family and cousins turned to her for everything. He felt that way more and more. Like she could fix things for him. And what she couldn’t fix, she would hold together so he didn’t fall apart.

"Come on. Let’s change our mood.”

She dragged him towards the living room, and he followed mutely, no more able to resist her than he could gravity. She fell onto the couch, flicking the remote until she settled on a movie.

She patted the space nearby. “Sit. Watch this with me. I need something to calm myself before I can sleep."

He took a seat next to her, automatically sliding one arm along the back of the couch to tuck her into him.

At her questioning glance, he shrugged. “This is allowed in a situationship, isn’t it?”

She pinkened adorably.

“Nanamma?” she asked, clearly worried about the practicality of cuddling on the couch even though it was getting close to midnight.

“She’s deep asleep. Won’t be up until the morning.” He cupped the side of her head and directed it to lean on his shoulder, unwilling to hear more excuses.

“Bugs?” he heard her mumble after a moment.

“Hmm? ”

“Please don’t embarrass me in public again. Harish did that too, and I hated it. I hated it tonight even more than before.”

Nose buried in her hair, he breathed her in, the gentle request hurting him anew. “Never again,” he vowed in a whisper. “Not in public, not in private.”

Her body loosened considerably with his promise, her weight resting against him. If he thought to say anything else, it was lost to confusion when the first scenes of the movie played on screen.

“It's a Christmas movie,” Rian complained.

“So?”

“We’re in the middle of October, Doc.”

“I love Christmassy things,” she declared.

His brows rose. She came from a fairly traditional Hindu South Indian family so this new piece of information surprised him.

“You celebrate Christmas?”

“Never had the opportunity, but look how pretty!” she whined, pointing towards the TV. She sighed, a content sort of sound. “I love all festivals. It’s just another reason to be happy. When I have my own home someday, I’ll put up a tree, decorations, the works. I’ll celebrate Christmas just like Diwali or Eid or Navratri.”

Rian’s eyes swept his apartment, picturing Christmas lights everywhere, a lit up tree in the corner near the windows, and him on the couch, dressed in a silly Christmas pyjama, cuddled with a woman wearing a matching set.

He glanced down just as Aditi looked up. Warm brown eyes met steel grey ones, setting his heart galloping within his chest.

Aditi. Christmas. With him. Together.

“In the meantime,” Aditi grinned, utterly oblivious that he was close to fainting from pure shock, “I figure there is never a bad time to watch the villain learn his lesson and become a hero.”

So, somewhere between the Grinch making his plan to steal Christmas and standing atop the snowy cliff, watching the village of Whos singing, Aditi fell asleep .

As the Grinch's heart grew three sizes bigger, Rian pulled the thick blanket over the woman next to him and stroked her hair, understanding just how powerful one sweet girl could be to thaw the ice around a grumpy Grinch's heart.