Love swells through my chest, so sudden and forceful I almost feel like I might burst. But reality cuts through like it always does.
“If I made it,” I say, “if by some miracle I win—this seat, or any other congressional seat—I’d have to be in D.C. part of the time. I’d have to go back and forth. And you have the inn here—”
“Maybe I open another inn up there once we get this one off theground. Maybe I hire staff to run this place while I’m away and travel back and forth with you. Maybe we even end up moving there one day.”
“But this is yourhome,” I say. “I understand how important that is to you, why it would be hard for you to leave it and—”
“You’remy home, Meena. Out of all the places I’ve lived, I’ve only ever felt at home with you.” His voice is fervent, the truth of his words blazing in his eyes. “I’ve been living without that feeling for years now and I’m not going to live that way a day longer. I don’t know exactly how we’ll do it, but we’ll find a way to make it work. Together.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe him so badly, but I can’t stop the worry climbing up my throat.
“But that’s what I thought back then. I thought we’d be able to make things work, but we couldn’t. What if we…what if we want to, but we can’t? What if we try and we just mess it all up?”
“Then, we mess up,” he says gently. “And we try again. We’renot the same people we were six, seven years ago, Meena. We’ve changed. We’re different. We’ve grown and we’ll keep growing. We’ll keep doing better. We’ll grow together.”
He smiles, wide and full and beaming, and I feel it. Warmth and comfort and this overwhelming sense of rightness.Mine. This wonderful gift of a man is mine.
“I love you,” I say, the words flying out of my mouth.
His lips return to mine, his kiss firm and quick and fierce. “I love you so much,” he whispers.
A drop of water lands on my shoulder. I ignore it, assuming one of us has just started crying again, but then another lands on my cheek. And another on the top of my hand.
I tilt my head up. “Is that—”
Nikhil lifts his palm toward the sky. “It’s just a drizzle,” he says. “Just a—” A loud boom of thunder cuts him off.
I lean back from Nikhil, my eyes wildly scanning our surroundings.
“We need to get inside,” I say, standing up.
“We can’t,” he responds, coming to his feet. “We haven’t gotten that far in our repairs yet. We’ll have to wait for the car to come back.” He clasps my upper arms, running his hands up and down them. “But it’ll be fine, Meena. It’s just a normal thunderstorm. We’ll be okay out here. Honestly, it’s not even that bad.”
In that moment, the heavens open up. The rain grows heavier, changing from a drizzle to sheets in a minute.
Nikhil’s lips part in shock, and his bewildered expression draws a loud laugh out of me.
I throw a hand over my head, doing my best to shield my eyes from the onslaught of rain.
“You were saying?” I tease. And Nikhil grins.
“Are you laughing at me, Mrs. Chopra-Wright?”
“Oh, I absolutely am, Mr. Nader.” I pause. “Mr. Chopra-Wright-Nader? Mr. Nader-Chopra-Wright?” We’d never discussed whether we’d change our names when we were married. We’d both kept our names as they were.
A flash of lightning splits the sky, and Nikhil pulls me closer.
“Don’t tell me we’re going to be a triple-hyphenate-surname family. Our poor kids. Just think how badly they’ll get teased at school.” Nikhil’s smile grows, the corners of his eyes creasing.
We’re both drenched. Our clothes plastered against our bodies. And the rain is pelting, stinging a bit when it hits my skin, but I can barely feel it.
I imagine us back here in five years, ten. The property filled with friends and guests and little ones with Nikhil’s gold-brown eyes, and my unruly hair.
A family. Nikhil and I are going to be a family.
“Our kids are going to get teased either way,” I say, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. “With me as their mother, they’ll probably turn out to be huge nerds.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But that just means they’re going to be bright and sharp and hardworking and intelligent. Like you.”