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He watched her wordlessly until she found herself shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
‘Nikhil...’
‘You’re concerned for someone you care about.’ He spoke suddenly. ‘You shouldn’t feel the need to apologise for that. It must be...nice.’
It was a closed statement. He certainly wasn’t inviting a response. Yet, even though the voice in her head was screaming at her to bite her tongue, Isla couldn’t help herself from responding.
‘Are you sure you don’t have someone like that either?’
‘I do not.’
‘What about your brother? Are you so sure he doesn’t care?’
‘He does not.’
‘So why was he there, in Chile?’
‘Careful.’ Nikhil’s eyes glittered, but she couldn’t be careful. She needed to know.
Or maybe she needed him to know. To face up to whatever ghosts seemed to haunt him.
‘Are you going to claim it was pure coincidence that he was there when you were, Nikhil?’
‘Perhaps it was.’
He looked furious. Again. But, whether he liked what she had to say or not, he was still answering her. That had to stand for something. She couldn’t stop now.
‘On your birthday?’ she countered. ‘I think not. I think he cares more than you are willing to admit.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Maybe I am,’ she acknowledged, ‘because how would I know? You said you’d “lost” him a long time ago but you made it sound like he had died. And don’t pretend it was my interpretation, because we both know the truth. So, whatever happened between you, the fact is that he was there in Chile, on your birthday, waiting to see you. So is it at all possible, if you stop being defensive and just think for a moment, that maybe I’m seeing something you aren’t?’
Isla had no idea how, or why, she had the courage to argue with him. It was as though that moment—that expression when he’d first seen the knife—had been her first glimpse of Nikhil. A flash of the real man who lay behind that front he so artfully presented to the world.
And now she’d seen that brief glimpse she couldn’t let it go. She wanted more of it. More of him.
‘You don’t understand,’ he growled.
‘I’m sure that’s true.’ It was incredible how her voice sounded so even, betraying none of the churning, swirling emotions she felt inside.
Not even a tremor.
‘You push and push, Isla.’ He spoke so quietly then, it was almost dangerous. ‘What is it that you hope to gain?’
And even though her skin goosebumped in response, even though her heart suddenly accelerated and galloped, thundering as loudly and as heavily as hoofbeats, she held her ground.
Surely it should terrify her that it mattered so much to her?’
‘I want to understand you better, Nikhil.’
‘Why?’ he demanded, his voice harsh, uncompromising.
And still it didn’t deter her.
She tilted her head to one side, her stomach feeling as though it had crept up her windpipe and was now lodged somewhere in her throat. She would never know how she managed to sound so calm.
‘Why not? Tell me, Nikhil, or so help me, I’ll walk out of that door.’
