Eight Days in the Sun Page 28

  “I vow the same.”

  He touches my face. God, I missed his touch. He kisses me long and tender. We’re both breathless when we separate. “You make my world whole, Kiran. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, Mason.”

  “One more vow. Okay, darling?”

  “Okay.”

  He drops to his knees and fishes in his pocket. “Kiran Shenoy, I vow to do everything in my power to make you happy and always keep you safe. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  I am not expecting this. I never let the dream get this far.

  “Yes.”

  I fall to my knees beside him. He slips the ring on my finger. It’s a simple white gold band with a heart-shaped diamond. There’s something very romantic and vintage about the simple piece. “I love this ring.”

  “Linda said you would.”

  “What? When did you talk to my stepmother?”

  “I met her in person actually. I figured she’d be the best person to go ring shopping with me. Although, I did have a few ideas of my own.”

  “You went to New Jersey?”

  “That was my first solo trip.”

  “Let me understand this. You went to New Jersey to go ring shopping with my stepmother?”

  He cups my face. “Sweetheart, I’m a southern gentleman. There are some things you just don’t do. Asking for a woman’s hand without her daddy’s blessing is one of those things.”

  “You met Papa?” My gut wrenches, imagining that conversation. Poor Mason.

  “I did.”

  “It’s okay, Mason. I don’t need his approval. I love you.”

  “Who says I didn’t get his approval? It took three days of showing up to his office.”

  I shiver at the thought of everything Mason went through. When this man fights, he does it with everything. What girl wouldn’t surrender?

  “That’s impressive, but I still can’t believe you won him over.”

  “Well, Linda put in a good word or two on my behalf. I told him I might not be rich, but I could give you everything you need and guarantee your happiness.”

  “You do, baby.”

  “While I was there, I went to New York for a day.”

  “New York?” As in the city with all the whizzing cars and crowds of people.

  “I met with the agent too. Well, I suppose I can call her my agent now. I showed her my portfolio.”

  “That’s amazing. You should have told me. I would have gone with you.”

  “I had a lot to work out on my own. You helped me so much, but I had to take the last few steps by myself.”

  “I’m proud of you, Mason.”

  He kisses my forehead. “Thank you, darling. That means a lot. We can talk later on that subject. So now that we’re finally on the same page, there’s just one thing left to do.”

  “What?”

  His grin turns wicked. “I’m gonna love, honor, and cherish you for the rest of our lives, but tonight I’m going to do all of those things…to your body.”

  “Well, what the hell are we waiting for?”

  We fall into each other’s arms.

  We will never let each other go again.

  Epilogue

  We lived in a small rented apartment for the first two years of our marriage. It’s hard starting a business. It’s downright insane to start a business, get married, and move to a new city at the same time. Kiran and I worked long hours. We made some mistakes, but we sure as hell have no regrets. We celebrated our first year anniversary by jumping out of a plane together.

  Dana got married. Yeah, it was to the scientist research guy. I have no doubt they’ll be crazy happy and have scary genius babies with monster IQs. Last year, my sister was offered a prestigious position in Miami. I’m grateful we’re not too far. Our kids will have a chance to know each other.

  Kiran never excelled in making beach jewelry, but I did start sculpting again. The tourists buy up my smaller sandcastles before I can start on a new batch. The bookstore slash souvenir shop slash coffee bar isn’t going to make us rich, but it does make a nice profit.

  I had my first official exhibition six months ago. Liam Montgomery and his wife, Mary, even attended. Kiran was right. They are good people. Surprisingly, I sold several of my larger pieces. I exceeded my expectations. Of course, my wife never doubted my talent.

  She’s written two more books. I’m so proud of her. Kiran still freelances too. She has articles published in about a hundred different periodicals and is always on ten different deadlines. I’ve asked her to slow down. But my girl is stubborn. She promises she will though when the baby gets here. I’m going to hold her to that.

  Oh yeah, we’re making a baby. Isn’t that awesome?

  The ultrasound says it will be a girl. We’re planning to name her Ellen Anita after my Grams and Kiran’s mama.

  Now that you’re all caught up, that brings us to today. Today we moved into a little house close to the beach. I guess you could call it a cottage. The kind of place Kiran once told me she wanted to live when we were dreaming together all those years ago. Bonus, it has a nice size outbuilding I can rehab and turn into a studio. But the first project I have in mind is to plant a tangerine tree and a jasmine shrub in the backyard.

  Fun fact, our neighbor’s daughter is also an artist. Her name is Abigail Helms. A while back, she kicked my ass at a sandcastle building contest. Small world, huh? We commissioned her to paint the baby’s nursery. She did it in beach tones, complete with a mosaic of sandcastles and sea life. I’m sure she gave me a funny look when I asked her to add a few barnacles and hermit crabs to the mix. Although, I can’t see it, I can visualize how it turned out.

  Kiran has been standing at the nursery door for the longest time. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her neck. My hands travel down to her protruding belly.

  She tilts her head back. “I hope Ellen loves this nursery as much as I do.”

  “I hope your boobs get bigger soon.”

  She elbows me. “Mason!”

  “Just kidding, baby. She’ll love it. It’s her daddy and mama’s love story painted out in four walls.”

  “True.”

  “How are you feeling today, sunshine?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Another day in the sun.”

  I frown, wondering if I missed something. I can smell the ozone and hear the patter of rain on the roof. “I’m pretty certain it’s raining.”

  “It is. But it’s sunny too.”

  She’s right of course.

  Every day we are together is a sunny day.

  Check out MK Schiller’s heartwarming Where the Lotus Flowers Grow.

  “This book confronts a number of economic, social, and gender issues with grace and honesty, and provides two very believable, flawed and genuinely empathetic protagonists…will linger in readers’ hearts and memories after the final page.”

  –RT Book Reviews

  Where the Lotus Flowers Grow

  Even in darkness, love can bloom…

  Heir to a multinational hotel empire, Liam Montgomery thinks business is everything—until he goes undercover to check out their locations throughout Asia. As cosmopolitan as Liam is, from the bright lights of Mumbai to the tranquil beaches of Goa to the bustling streets of New York, he's never met anyone like lovely Mary Costa. He can't understand why this delicate, educated woman works as a maid. Or how she is reigniting his long-buried desire to be an artist. They are apart in so many ways—especially in the things Mary won't tell him. But more and more, Liam can't imagine his life without her.

  Mary knows this unexpected desire for Liam must end. It’s true that his gentleness and sense of fun inspires her and makes her hopeful for the first time in her life. But she has a grim promise she feels compelled to keep—and painful experiences she fears he could never understand. And with secrets soon reaching out to separate them f
or good, can they dare risk a future together if it means confronting the scars of the past?

  Chapter 1

  Liam

  I was too exhausted to sleep. Despite the twenty-two-hour plane ride, the ten-hour time difference, and the three bloody bourbons consumed on the flight, sleep refused to come. That’s how I found myself wide awake at the ungodly hour of three a.m., studying the pale glow of a Rajasthani moon. At precisely 5:36 in the morning, I finally decided to make my insomnia useful and call my secretary, Monica Penny.

  “Hello Miss Moneypenny,” I said, imitating the Sean Connery brogue. It made her giggle every time.

  “And who would this be?”

  I could imagine the blush that crept around her face whenever we played this game. At sixty years young, she’d always been formal and efficient, but when I burst into Bond, she acted like a giddy schoolgirl.

  “Montgomery. Liam Montgomery.”

  “It’s gotta be five in the morning there.”

  “Five thirty-six, actually.” Can we go over the schedule and your notes from the meeting yesterday?”

  “I love the way you say ‘schedule.’ But seriously, Liam, you have to be exhausted.”

  “I am, but I can’t sleep. May as well be useful.”

  “Fine. Well, I booked the rest of your flights. You’ll leave for Mumbai on Saturday and Goa the following Saturday. Then back to New York on Sunday.” She went about the specific details, meetings, and agendas that would take place over the coming weeks. I had most of it memorized, but I needed her to remind me of all the upper management at each hotel.

  By the time we’d finished, the sun had crept slowly over the horizon. I opened the window to let in some air.

  “Make sure you wear plenty of sunscreen, drink lots of bottled water, and buy a Pashmina scarf.”

  “What kind of protection will a Pashmina scarf offer me?”

  “Nothing, but it’s a really nice gift for your secretary.”

  “Noted.”

  “Liam, what’s that sound?”

  I blinked, taking in the huge hulking creatures that flew across the sky, their shrieking calls growing exponentially with the rise of the golden sun. Their cackles drowned out all other noise.

  “Birds.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Afraid not, Moneypenny. The wingspan on these birds would give Hitchcock a heart attack.” I ducked outside the window to get a closer look. Another flew by, nearly grazing me. Holy shit…was that a falcon? I banged my head against the sill as I backed away.

  “Fuck.”

  “What happened?”

  “Just banged my brain a bit.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live.”

  “I’m sure you will, seeing as you have a very hard head. Which reminds me, Natalie called.” Moneypenny’s typically soft voice hardened over Natalie’s name. “She asked about your schedule, too. She’s trying for an Indian visa since she’s filming a shoot in Hong Kong.” Her heavy sigh gave the birds a run for their money. “I thought you broke up.”

  As if my bloody head wasn’t already aching.

  “We didn’t break up. We were never going out. She rings when she’s in or around the same general vicinity as me. We get together. That’s all.”

  “Liam Montgomery, I maybe older than you, but I know what a booty call is.”

  “Booty call?” I almost dropped the phone. “I believe the kids are calling it a hook-up these days. Yes, that’s the correct terminology.”

  “I don’t like her. She’s very rude.”

  “Well, it’s good you’re not sleeping with her then. But in any case, please send two dozen roses to her hotel in Hong Kong with a note relaying my sincere apologies. I’ll be far too busy these next three weeks to entertain her.”

  “I’ll send it right away,” she said, sounding incredibly happy at being assigned the task.

  “And Moneypenny?”

  “Yes.”

  “Make the note sincere, yeah?”

  She huffed over the phone. “What do you want me to do? Quote Shakespeare?”

  “That’s a nice touch.”

  “Fine. I’m sure I can find a line from The Taming of the Shrew.”

  “You’re a funny girl. I have to go.”

  “Be careful, Liam. I’ll tell Stephen you arrived safely.”

  I wanted to tell her not to bother. My half-brother could care less. In fact, he’d probably be happy if I hadn’t arrived safely, but I simply thanked her instead. Keeping up appearances had become second nature. If anyone looked below the surface, they could easily identify the large fissures in my family, but we’d done an outstanding job at plugging the leaks.

  What looked like a hawk came to the window next. He perched on the ledge, fanning his large wings. It appeared more curious than anything, staring me down as if to say I was on his territory, not the other way around. I could almost hear his taunting thoughts: You wish you had my freedom.

  I did.

  He flapped his wings before swooping down toward the grounds. I followed his descent across the infinity pool, the manicured gardens, and finally the water fountain. Prabhat, the manager here, had given me a brief tour yesterday. I told him to get rid of the eyesore. It wasn’t in a spot guests would go to, but the crumpling stones blemished the otherwise spotless façade. Not to mention it was a haven for mosquitoes and the water looked dirty. He went on about how he agreed with me, insisting it would be no problem. So why it hadn’t been done in all the years he’d been general manager?

  I focused on the shining figure standing next to the fountain. It looked like every ray in the sun was pointing at her and reflecting off her at the same time. That was until I realized that her long white skirt and scarf had tiny mirrors patched into the embroidery. She moved with grace despite the large pot balanced on her hip. She placed the pot on the ground. From within, she took many small silver bowls. Ten, to be exact. I counted as she placed them around the fountain, occasionally swiping the tiny broken stones gathered on its ridge. The strike of a match against the box cut through the air as if even the birds had decided to be silent out of respect for her. She lit each bowl. Who lit candles in the daylight? Was it some type of religious ceremony?

  When she was done, she fell to her knees in front of the fountain and removed her scarf. Her hair cascaded in dark waves. A soft echoing music filled the air, the melody haunting. She looked toward the sky.

  Whatever she prayed for, I wanted her to have it.

  My fingers twitched. I wished for a piece of charcoal, a paint brush, or even a fucking pencil. The once-familiar longing had been absent from my life for many years.

  Her gaze drew back to the fountain.

  “What’s so interesting?” I asked, as if she could answer me. I didn’t know what was so interesting for me either. I blamed it on a combination of sleep deprivation, curiosity, and bad bourbon. Whatever it was, I couldn’t look away.

  A single flower in the middle of the pool opened up. The bud stood out in ethereal white above the still, dark waters. What the hell kind of flower grew in water? A lily? No…no, this wasn’t a lily. I knew this. I racked my brain until the memory finally came.

  Mum sitting at the rickety kitchen table, her elbows bent in concentration as she tried to fashion some kind of pin. She based her design on the tropical flower book she’d checked from the library. She swore under her breath as she tried to shake off the arthritis before it settled into her fingers.

  I tapped the book with my pencil. “What is it?”

  “A lotus flower. I want the pin to look like this. Isn’t it lovely?” She prattled on about some stone she’d found at the thrift store.

  “No, Mum, it’s very ugly” was my flippant reply. I hated her doing this kind of work. It only made her hands hurt. It was the reason all my weekends were spent at street fairs instead of hanging with my mates. Hell, it wouldn’t have been so bad if we
made money from it. In the end, I felt so guilty for my outburst, I finished the pin for her, bending the stiff silver wires with small pliers, following the lines in the book, until they resembled petals. I pasted the cheap stone in the center.

  Mum said the lotus flower was special. I didn’t see anything special about it then, and I certainly didn’t now.

  I couldn’t see Lotus Girl’s face…not from this angle, ten stories up, but I imagined it anyway. She was as enamored with the flower as I was with her.

  I wasn’t the only one watching. He came from the shadows and stood in front of her. My hand clutched the sill. She straightened, but there was no fear in her posture. I recognized his uniform and shape as the driver who’d fetched me from the airport.

  Their voices didn’t carry, but even if they did, I doubt I’d understand what they said. It didn’t matter, though. Their body language slashed through any language barriers. He was taller than she was, but she looked him in the eyes when she spoke. She patted his arm, a docile gesture meant to comfort. She kept an ample amount of space between them, each of her movements careful, perhaps even guarded. His words were accompanied with shakes of his head, his hands barreling though his hair, and finally a defeated slump in his shoulders.

  I chuckled to myself. Sorry, mate, but at least she’s letting you down easy.

  He took her hand and pulled it toward his mouth. She yanked it back so fast, his lips met nothing but air.

  Don’t go embarrassing yourself, bro. No bird is worth that. As if to contradict me, a fucking Pterodactyl soared past, squawking loudly. I stumbled back.

  Bloody birds.

  Once I regained my balance and confirmed my heart was still tucked inside my chest, I shifted my attention back to them. He kept talking, closing the gap between them, his fingers curling around her arm. In reaction, I tightened mine into a fist.

  You’re starting to piss me off. Keep your fucking hands to yourself before I come down there and break them.