Kemora Archives

SERENA

“What on earth did you do?” I’m staring at the brown lump sitting in a cake pan on my sister’s countertop.

“It’s a boxed mix. You don’t even have to measure. How did you mess this up?”

Amber glares at the cake like it’s personally offended her. “I did everything the box told me to.”

I pick up the discarded box and scan the instructions. “You added eggs?”

“Of course.”

“Water? Oil?”

“I’m not an idiot, Serena.”

“How much?”

“Rina.”

“This thing’s as hard as a rock. You could use it as a weapon.”

“I might use it on you if you don’t stop criticizing me.”

“I love you, but you’re a terrible cook.” I toss the box back onto the counter and cross my arms. “Now what?”

Before she can respond, her gaze lands on a blue Audi pulling into the driveway, visible through her huge kitchen window.

“I don’t have a backup plan. I’m going to take a bath,” she announces, then bolts for her bedroom upstairs, leaving me alone with the cake disaster to welcome my brother-in-law home.

The door slams shut behind her before I can even protest, and five minutes later a tall, handsome man strides into the kitchen, a bright smile on his face and a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses in his hand.

His smile fades when he sees me, because as polite as he is, let’s face it, I’m not who he was hoping to see when he got home early from work.

Seeing me probably ruined a lot of his plans for the evening.

“Hey…Rina…?” He sounds like he can’t believe his bad luck.

“Hey, Mohib.” I lean against the counter and smile. “So nice of you to invite me over for your anniversary dinner tonight.”

“Oh?” He looks a little pale.

“Amber didn’t mention… I mean you’re always welcome, of course, I just… I’m sorry, I must have forgotten, the day was so busy, I almost didn’t make it home in time to…to…”

He swallows. “So you’re staying. I mean, of course you are. What I meant was…”

I’m definitely going to hell for messing with this poor guy.

“I’m just kidding.” I laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave. I’m not here to cockblock.”

His face turns red, and I can’t help but chuckle.

Of all the men in the world who could have matched Amber’s vibrant personality, she had to fall for the one genuinely good guy in our generation.

And why not? No one else could have made my impulsive, lovable sister happier.

“You sisters sure have a way with words.” He smiles his shy smile and walks over to the coffee table in the living room to set down the huge bouquet.

“But really, Rina, you’re always welcome. You know that, right? I was rude just now. It was just that I saw you and I wasn’t prepared—”

“I know, and it’s fine. Really.” I give him a look that says please let it go. “She called me for help. With that.”

Mohib turns to see what I’m pointing at, and his eyebrows shoot up. He leaves his keys and wallet next to the roses and comes over to me. “She was baking?”

I nod. “She’s upstairs now, soaking away her disappointment.”

We both sigh, because that’s just so Amber.

“Were the instructions right?” He picks up the empty box and reads. “Maybe they left out a step or gave the wrong measurements.”

“Are you seriously blaming the foolproof boxed cake mix so you don’t have to blame your wife?”

He frowns. “She tries to cook for me. People think it should come naturally to women, like they’re born with that skill.

“But it’s hard. Like cutting sheet metal or drilling in a bolt.”

“Really? Sheet metal and bolts?”

It’s both adorable and hilarious that he would compare the complexities of his shipbuilding job to mixing a pre-made powder with water and oil and sticking it in the oven.

But that’s Mohib when it comes to Amber. Soft as mashed potatoes.

He rolls his eyes, throws the box in the trash, and picks up the cake. Still in his custom-made business suit, he looks like a fancy host on a cooking show.

Some of those hosts are as delicious as the dishes they make. Mohib would fit right in.

“If you eat that”—I point at the brown lump—“I’m officially declaring you brainless.”

Mohib chuckles and shakes his head. “I love my wife, but there are limits.” He holds out the cake to me for a closer look. “Say goodbye to it, Rina. It’s suffered enough.”

I put my hands together in a mock prayer. “May it rest in one big, inedible piece.” There’s a thud as the cake lands in the trashcan, followed by a soft clang as the lid slowly falls back into place.

“Please tell me you have dinner reservations at the best restaurant in town, because she’s going to need some serious wooing and wowing tonight.”

“Oh, I’ve got that covered,” he says without thinking, then blushes when he sees me grinning. “What? It’s our anniversary. I have plans.” He blushes even more.

“I know, but you’ve been married for three years now. Will you stop acting like such a shy new bride?”

“Someone’s got to. Your sister sure isn’t,” he teases, narrowing his eyes at me in jest. “I’d bet it wouldn’t be Zavyar in your relationship though. Consider yourself warned, kiddo.”

My smile fades, and I can feel my face tighten.

Mohib picks up on it right away, because of course he does. That’s his thing.

He’s so perceptive it wouldn’t surprise me if he could read minds too, but chose to keep it a secret so people wouldn’t freak out…

…and because he sees it as a curse, not a gift, and would give up his kidneys, lungs, and all limbs as penance for lying.

But he’d never give away his heart, because he gave that away a long time ago to a neurotic control freak who’s currently upstairs taking a bath to wash away the stress of baking.

“He made quite the impression at lunch the other day.”

Mohib chooses to address the tension indirectly, so I don’t feel cornered into explaining why my face crumples every time Zavyar Velshi’s name comes up.

See? Perceptive.

“That’s kind of his thing.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “You should read the tabloids.”

“You know most of those stories are made up.” Mohib’s eyes search my face. “Sensationalized gossip to boost sales.”

“They aren’t total lies.” I meet his gaze, letting my displeasure show this time.

“He was there, asking me such obnoxious questions like… The man has no manners, he’s completely uncouth.”

My hands instinctively go to rub my temples. “And then he just up and left like what the fuck?

“I had to plan my whole Sunday around that stupid picnic, because Mama would have a fit if I didn’t ride with her in her car, because she was sure I would bail.

“And now I’m thinking maybe I should have. I should have left too, like that Neanderthal did, but I couldn’t. Because I’m supposed to always be polite and nice.”

“Rina…” Mohib’s voice is filled with worry. “You know you can say no, right? We’ll support you. No one can force you into this.”

“Not even your father” is what Mohib wants to say but doesn’t dare, because we all know the truth. Ba gets what Ba wants. And he wants Zavyar Velshi for me.

My hand goes to my necklace and clutches the pebble pendant there. I rub my thumb over it, feeling its smooth surface and the warmth that fills me.

The warmth of an island, of the surf and the sun, of palm trees swaying in the breeze, of love.

Was it really that long ago…?

I catch Mohib watching me, lost in thought, and my hand instantly drops to my chest, then to my side. I swallow, unsure how to deny it if he were to ask.

“Tell me it’s not—”

“It’s not.” I cut him off more quickly than I meant to.

Mohib steps closer, his gaze drifting up to his bedroom and then back to me. When he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. “Damn it, Rina, you can’t let Amber see this.”

“She doesn’t know what it is.” My grip on the pendant tightens protectively. “She thinks it’s something I bought.”

“That’s not the point. It’s from there. From ~that~ ~time~. We’ve talked about this.”

Anger blurs my vision, and my jaw clenches. I step away from the counter and grab my bag. “I think I should go. You have an anniversary to celebrate.”

“Rina, don’t do this. I only ever want what’s best for you.”

“Like you did ten years ago?”

My words leave him speechless, and I don’t suppress the cruel smile that spreads across my face. I think about saying goodbye, but no, he doesn’t deserve my politeness right now.

He deserves the front door slamming in his face when he follows me as I storm out to my car.

He wants what’s best for me? No one knows what’s best for me.

And the one who did... I lost him ten years ago.