Elodie was even more affectionate than usual over the next few days, and I tried hard to convince myself that it had nothing to do with any effect that Bansi's departure might have had upon my mood or my bearing. The idea that he could affect my relationship with my daughter even now infuriated me, and that only made Elodie grow more somber and more determined to plaster herself to my side and drown me in her sweet, murmured reassurances that I was the best papa in the whole world and nothing anyone else said about me mattered more than that.
A few days passed, and we had almost reached an equilibrium. We were just finishing supper, and I was trying to compel Elodie to eat her vegetables without giving away how much her refusal delighted me. In the days before, she would have choked them down and watched me with every bite, as though to judge whether her sacrifice had served its purpose and made me happy.
That she refused me now, twisting her face up in an exaggerated expression of disgust and trying to wheedle and bargain her way to my surrender, eased the concern in my heart over how my upset might be affecting her. I liked her better this way, a fierce, stubborn force of nature, wholly and completely herself, better than the wide-eyed somber thing she had been over the past few days.
We were laughing, teasing and playing with one another despite the battle of wills between us, when a knock at the door made her leap from her chair. "I'll get it, Papa!"
She made an unhappy face at me, but I glanced back over my shoulder as I made my way to the door and saw her poking at the vegetables all the same.
I opened the door and turned forward just in time to keep from walking straight into Bansi. He stood on my porch in all his finery, hands in his pockets and looking somewhat taken aback to have nearly been plowed into, but I couldn't fault him for that.
There was more than enough fault to dole out for other things, in any case. I pulled the door quickly shut behind me and crossed my arms, and I waited.
He looked on me helplessly. I hated him for it. "Renad..." he said at last, like a man grasping for something to say.
"What, no gifts?" I asked him coldly. "No bribes, to try to buy your way back into my good graces? How unlike you."
He shut his eyes and pulled his hands from his pockets, then hesitated as though he didn't know what to do with them. "No." His voice was harsh and broken. "I didn't bring any gifts. No bribes. I told you, I'm done trying to wear you down."
"You told me you were done, period."
He opened his eyes and looked at me imploringly. "Please, will you listen to me?"
"What on earth could you possibly have left to say to me?"
"I--" He opened his mouth, shut it, looked chagrined. He passed a hand across his face, then dropped it and squared his shoulders. "I'm not here to try to woo you, Renad."
"Well, that's a relief." I pressed my shoulder blades against the door and wished I'd had the good sense not to answer it.
"But I realized that I did it again."
I raised one brow and waited in silence for him to continue.
"Left," he said on a breath of sound. "Last time, I made the decision for you, and I walked out. And I realized that I'd done the same thing again. I've been trying all this time to make it up to you for what I did, and then I made the same mistake all over again. So that's why I'm here." He spread his hands out before himself, like a man in supplication.
My brow climbed higher up my forehead. "But not to try to woo me," I said, dry as the desert.
"No, damn it." His fingers curled, his hands balling up into fists. "I just came to... to make amends. I made the decision for you, and I want to make that right. I don't want to change you, I don't want to wear you down. But you were right when you said I should have discussed it with you before I made my decision. I don't want to repeat my mistakes. So I'm here to put the choice in your hands."
I pushed away from the door and grabbed for the handle. "Well, you might have saved yourself the trouble, I can tell you right now what--"
He lifted his voice, speaking over me. "But before you decide, I have some rules."
I froze, the iron handle cold in my grip but unturned. I stared at him and wondered how he could know me so poorly, that he would say such things and not even realize how they'd make my nerves sizzle and snap with anger. "Rules?" I took one single, furious step toward him. "You're going to give me rules now? Devils take you, Bansi, and they can take your damned rules with you."
He braced his hands on my chest, holding me back before I could drive him out onto the street and leave him there where he belonged. "Hear me out," he said quickly. "I know I don't deserve any favors, but do that much for me anyway, please."
I forced myself still, though it seemed as though every muscle in my body vibrated just beneath my skin, aching for motion. I told myself that I didn't do it because he'd asked me to, though. That I did it because letting him speak his piece seemed the quickest way to be rid of him, and that was all I cared about.
I was a dreadful liar, sometimes. But the lie comforted me, and so I clung to it.
Silence stretched between us for a moment, filled with Bansi's surprise, as though he hadn't really expected me to acquiesce. "Right," he said quickly, rushing to make up for the pause. "Here it is. The choice is yours. You can tell me to leave, and I will. I'll go without another word." He held up a hand before I could speak. "Or you can ask me to stay. But before you do..." Something in him broke, but was shored up before he could crumple. He trembled a little, as though it took a great effort for him to keep himself still and upright before me. "If you do, I'm staying for good. I don't want to be kept on the sidelines of your life anymore, Ren. I want to be a part of it. I thought I could take whatever you were willing to give me and be glad just to have that, but I was wrong. I want everything, and if you can't give me that, or don't wish to, then I'll understand. I'll accept that. And I'll go." He pulled his spine straight and watched me like a man waiting for the executioner's blade. "The choice is yours. I'll leave it to you."
I might have relented. There was a part of me, the part that Corine had seen while I'd turned a blind eye to it, that wanted this chance to make things right between us. I might have relented, but for that last part. I recoiled, as shocked and furious as if he'd raised a hand to me. "You're giving me an ultimatum?"
He thought twice before he spoke, then set his jaw. "I suppose I am."
"Then screw you." I shoved him back, off the porch. He stumbled, but grabbed the rail and stayed upright. And he didn't leave. "You don't get to show up here and demand parts of me that I'm not ready to give." I gave a harsh, broken laugh. "Gods! I don't know why I'm surprised. It's just like you to assume you're the most important thing in my world. What, did you think if you came here and recanted, that I'd jump at the chance to have you back a third time?" I advanced on him, crowding him back into the street. "Go, damn you. You said you would."
Perhaps he would have. Perhaps he'd meant it. But before he could, a wail rose up behind me that wrapped a fist around my heart. It was Elodie. I'd have known the sound of her cry anywhere. I could have been blind and deaf and senile, and I'd have still felt the impact of it in the cords that bound my heart.
I left Bansi in the street where he belonged and ran back up to the house. I threw the door open and rushed to her. She'd thrown herself down on the floor and was sobbing furiously. I dropped to my knees and scooped her up into my lap. "There, there," I murmured, clutching her close and speaking my assurances into her hair. "Don't cry, darling. Hush now. There's nothing worth your tears."
I didn't have to ask what was wrong. I'd been thoughtless and raised my voice with Bansi, and of course she would have heard. They were the bewildered, frightened tears of a child who knew only that if something was bad enough to raise her father's voice, then it must be terrible indeed.
"Don't shout, Papa," she whimpered against my shoulder, little hands clutching at me. "Don't be mad."
"I'm not. I'm not, El. I promise." I lifted her head and smoothed away the strands of hair that had caught on her tearstained cheeks. I kissed her brow and hated myself for bringing the source of this grief to our home.
Elodie sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the flat of her palms. Her gaze slid off my face and her breath hitched as she focused on something beyond me. The only thing behind me was the front door... which I'd left open, in my rush to comfort her.
I already knew what I'd see, before I rose and turned. Bansi, standing in the doorway, staring at Elodie with a dumbfounded expression.
I stepped in front of her, and kept her tucked behind me when she tried to peer out from around my legs. "Get out."
"Ren..." He stared at me like I was a vision manifest from the ether. Like he'd never seen me before in all his life. "Renad, gods. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Weren't you listening before? You don't get to demand pieces of my life that I'm not willing to share."
He gave a broken laugh and shook his head like a man coming awake from a dream. "Pieces of your life? What about mine?"
"What about yours?" I snapped before I could prevent it. Then I sucked air through my teeth and stood up straighter. "You said you'd leave if I told you to. This is me, telling you to."
He only spared me a swift glance before his gaze pulled back to Elodie, but even that was long enough for me to feel the force of his scorn behind it. "No. That bargain's done. I'm not going anywhere."
"Damn it, Bansi--"
"You are not going to use words I said in ignorance to keep my daughter from me!"
I jerked back, stunned breathless for just a moment. And then I recovered, and fury burned through me. "Elodie." My voice shook. I couldn't control it. "Go to your room right now please."
She cried out and wrapped her arms like a vise around my leg. "No, Papa! I'm not going."
"Please, sweetheart." But she just gripped me harder and pressed her face against the back of my knee.
I laid my hand on her head, a thoughtless instinct to keep her with me, keep her mine. "You've no claim to her," I told Bansi harshly. I hated to do this with Elodie here, to speak of her this way as though she weren't in the room at all. But I'd be damned if I was going to let her presence keep me silent in the face of Bansi's ludicrous assertions. "She is Leisl's daughter, adopted under my care." She's mine. The words raced through me, pumped into my blood with every furious beat of my heart. Mine. Mine. Mine. Bansi had taken from me any number of things that I valued highly, my dignity, my pride, but he would not take my daughter. I'd tear his eyes out to defend her.
He gave me a sharp look, and swallowed hard. "What of her father?"
"Gone." I shrugged with one shoulder, dismissive. "Or well enough. She never said who he was. It doesn't matter. She's my daughter, in all the ways that matter, and if you think you can lay claim to her because you feel some sort of regret over a decision you made years ago--"
He hissed air through his teeth, a harsh, angry sound. "Gods, Renad, have you looked at her once in all the years you've raised her? She's got my own blood, right down to her bones."
Elodie was crying again, sniffling and wiping her tears onto the leg of my trousers. I pulled her closer. It took an effort to keep my touch gentle. I wanted to grab her so tight Bansi could never wrest her from me. "You're mad. She doesn't look a thing like you."
He started to speak, then hesitated. He even went so far as to look chagrined. "No," he said at length, grimacing. "No, I suppose not. She takes after the women of our family, though. She's the very image of my sister at her age. Who, I'm told, looked just like my mother, who in turn took after--"
"She's not yours."
He fell silent mid-word and seemed taken aback. "You don't believe me?" A sudden fervor seemed to light his gaze. "What about the music box? The one I gave you. I don't suppose you kept it. Did you throw it out like all the rest of my gifts? Did you even glance at it before you cast it aside?"
A lump of emotion closed my throat, and I couldn't have spoken even if he'd insisted on it.
"You left that?" Elodie peered out around me, then skirted out from behind. She stayed close, though, her back pressed against my legs, poised to retreat behind my protection at a moment's notice. She watched Bansi through a narrowed, dubious gaze. "Papa said it was mine."
I hadn't, she'd simply decided it was so, but that was a quibble for another time.
Bansi brought a hand to his mouth. When he lifted his gaze to mine, it was misty-eyed. He looked as though he might cry. "You gave the box to her?" he asked, and then had to clear his throat, because the words came out wet and thick.
"Was he not supposed to?" Elodie drew back, pressing harder against my shins and tucking her chin sullenly against her chest. "It isn't mine?"
If he upset her again, I didn't think I'd be responsible for my actions. I stroked her chest soothingly, and stared at Bansi over her head, and tried to convey with everything but words that if he made my little girl cry again, I'd throw him out and see to it that he never again saw so much as a passing glimpse of her, parentage be damned.
Bansi didn't so much as spare me a glance. He only had eyes for Elodie. He dropped down to a knee before her, and wrapped her tiny hands in his. "No, child," he said to her. "Don't think that. There's no one on this earth I'd want to have it more. Will you bring it out to me, and let me see it again?"
Elodie eyed him unmoving for a moment. I wondered if she wasn't suspicious again, afraid that he would take the box away as soon as he had it in his hands. But after a moment, the stillness between them broke, and she scampered off into her room. The sounds of her rummaging through the drawers of her dresser came out to us.
I knew we would only have a moment before she returned, and there were things to be said that I didn't want her to overhear, no matter her insistence. I turned to Bansi and dropped my voice to a low, violent whisper. "Why are you doing this? Do you think if you worm your way into her affections, it will persuade me to keep you around for her sake? It won't work. You gave me the choice and I made it, Bansi. I asked you to leave."
His gaze was on the bedroom door that Elodie had disappeared through. He spared me a brief, impatient glance before he returned it there. "That's not what this is about. You don't want to be with me, fine. It doesn't matter, not anymore."
It was stupid to be hurt by his dismissiveness. I told myself that, but the sting remained. I wanted to throttle him. I didn't know how it was possible for one man to so consistently frustrate me to my very limits.
I pulled him around by the shoulder and made him face me. "Doesn't matter? Then why are you here?"
He gave me a long look that made me want to squirm beneath its weight, as though it were a stupid question with an obvious answer and he couldn't quite believe that I'd had to ask it in the first place. "She's my daughter, Renad. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not true." His lips thinned, and his expression grew bleak. "I love you," he said, and made me start. "And if it were still just a matter of you and I, I'd do as you wished, and I'd leave. You'd never have to see me again. But she's my daughter--"
"She's my daughter," I snarled. "I raised her. I've cared for her. She's mine."
Bansi hesitated. "Ours, then," he said quietly. "I'm not trying to deny your claim to her. But show me at least that same respect. She's yours, and mine, and she is more important than either of us or our wounded feelings right now."
His words took me aback. I stared at him and wondered why it suddenly seemed I was looking at someone new. He'd been spoiled and selfish before, too sure in his wealth to ever put something before himself, because he never had the need to make that choice. Even now, the second time around, he hadn't been that kind of a man.
He'd dragged himself out of bed before dawn for no reason other than to meet me at my shop. He'd brought me hot spiced tea to warm my frozen fingers. He'd sat by my side and worked with me, helped me, for no compensation other than my company.
No. He'd done all that because he wanted me back, wanted me to forgive him. It may have been kind, but it wasn't selfless. This... this was something new.
And... yes. Very well. Putting my own feelings aside for the sake of Elodie was something I knew how to do well. I filled my lungs with air that smelled faintly of Bansi's spices, and let it out slowly. And when Elodie came running back in, her music box clutched tight against her chest, I tried my best to set aside my anger and resentment toward Bansi, for her sake.
"It was dusty," she said breathlessly. "I wiped it off, but I'll clean it better, I promise."
Bansi just smiled and knelt down again and held out his hands. When Elodie placed the box in them, he opened the latch and lifted the lid. The little figure inside, with Elodie's auburn hair and eyes the color of the sea, began to spin on her toes as the music of Bansi's homeland rose up to fill the silence that had settled over the room.
"My sister painted her," Bansi said, and though his words sounded as though he spoke them to Elodie, he was looking at me. "My niece was the model. It looks just like her." He touched a fingertip to the dancer's hair, carved so that it looked like it was blowing in the wind. "She looks just like my sister, when she was that age, too."
"And she looks like me," Elodie said. She looked back at me over her shoulder. "See, Papa, I told you it was me."
"So you did." I forced myself to speak past the painful knot in my throat. "El, sweetheart, go put that back so it doesn't get broken, all right? It would be a shame to ruin such a fine gift."
He watched her run back to the bedroom, and then he rose and looked at me with an expectant air. I didn't know what he was waiting for from me, and I didn't care to break the silence for him, not when he was standing here before me trying to lay claim to my daughter.
A moment passed, and he sighed. "I'll make some tea," he said. His hand brushed mine as he turned away. "Since it seems I'll be here for a while."
That made me tense. I stared at him as he moved across my kitchen, as at ease as if he'd lived here as long as we had. "What do you want?" I demanded of his back. "If you try to take her from me--"
"Gods!" He swung around with the kettle in his hand. "You always think the worst of me, don't you? I don't want to take her from you. I'm a selfish bastard sometimes, that may be, but I'm not cruel." His fingers tightened around the kettle's handle, turning his knuckles pale. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost too gentle to bear. "You may not believe it, but I've never wanted to hurt you." He slid his gaze sideways, to the bedroom door and the sounds of Elodie singing to herself beyond it. "Either of you."
"Then what do you want?" It hurt to let the question free. I'd been holding it close, caging it inside for fear of what Bansi's answer might be. "What do you want of us? Gods, you've already left my life in pieces once. Now you'll come through and kick apart the wreckage of what you left behind."
He dropped his gaze to the floor as I spoke, and when I'd finished, he turned away. He filled the kettle with water from the pump, set it on the stove and added firewood to the embers smoldering within. And only then did he turn back to me, and face me with his shoulders back and his expression solemn. "I don't want to take anything from you," he said quietly. "The last thing I want is to tear apart the life you've built for yourself. You're her father, in all the ways that matter."
That acknowledgment, finally, loosened the grip on my heart enough that I could draw a breath. The rush of air into my burning lungs, and the relief that came along with it, made me sway there on my feet.
Bansi took a step toward me, and another, until we stood facing each other, close enough to reach out and touch. "You're her father," he said quietly, looking me straight in the eye. "But after what you've seen, can you deny that I am, too?"
I wanted to. Gods, how I wanted to tell him that it was all a coincidence, a lie, that there was no way he and Elodie shared blood and he could never convince me otherwise. Maybe if I had, he would have left. I couldn't guess.
But the truth was that I didn't know. Bansi's insistence, and the evidence of the figurine in the music box, hadn't convinced me. But it had made me doubt. And I had lied to him, when I'd said that Leisl hadn't said who Elodie's father was.
She had told me. Again and again, she had insisted it was Bansi. I simply hadn't believed her, because the timing seemed dubious and Elodie's coloring had been wrong. Slim evidence, all of it, but it had been more than enough because I hadn't wanted to believe in the first place.
Bansi searched my face. He must have seen some answer there that I couldn't give voice to, because he nodded once and squeezed my hand and gave a sigh that felt as though it carried the weight of the world upon it. "All right," he said. "I don't want to take her from you. I just want the chance to know her. She's my daughter, and I want her in my life. I want to be a part of hers. That's all."
It would have been easier if he'd been an ass about it. I could have kicked him out and felt good about keeping him away from her. But this Bansi... His priorities were just as mine were. Elodie first. And there wasn't anything I could do with that but nod, and agree, and pray to any god who was listening that this wasn't going to uproot the peace we had found in our life together.
"It's her choice, though," I said, before Bansi could celebrate his victory too readily. "I won't force anything on her."
He nodded immediately. "Of course. I wouldn't want that."
So I turned away from him, and called toward the bedroom for Elodie. She came out straightaway, a doll tucked under her arm, but held back and lingered in the doorway instead of rushing to us as she had before. She looked wary. Our arguing had done that to her.
"El." I reached a hand out to her. "Come here. You two haven't been introduced properly."
She came to me, but pressed up against my side and stared at Bansi. "He is not my papa," she said, before either of us could so much as begin to formulate an explanation.
I feared Bansi would take insult and this would all be off to a dreadful start which we might never recover from, but all he did was smile, and sit down on the floor before her so they were nearer to the same level. "Of course not," he said happily. "You've got a wonderful papa already. I couldn't hope to do as good a job as he does. You love him very much, don't you?"
She nodded, still pressed against the side of my leg.
Bansi leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Do you like secrets, Elodie?"
She hesitated, but when she nodded again, she did so more eagerly. She straightened, easing some of her weight off of me. "Miss Corine says it isn't nice to keep secrets, but I like them."
"Some things shouldn't be kept secret, Miss Corine's right about that." Bansi glanced at me as he spoke, and though there was no judgment in his gaze, I felt the impact of it all the same. "But sometimes they can be fun. Do you want to know a secret? Super special, just between us?"
It broke my heart, how easy it was for him to charm her away from me. She ran over to him without another moment's hesitation, and leaned in against his side. "Yes!" She wrapped her arms around his upper arm and held on. "Tell me! I won't tell anyone, I promise!"
Bansi smiled and leaned in and whispered something into her ear, too soft for me to hear. When he had finished, Elodie glanced at me and giggled, and pressed her fingers against her lips to signal her dedication to keeping Bansi's secret.
I tried not to show how much it pained me. Bansi was right, Elodie came first before either of us. I couldn't hoard her like a miser guarding his coin. But it killed me all the same, to see them whispering and laughing to each other like they were old friends, and I forgotten by the wayside.
When they had finished with their secret-telling, Elodie stepped back and looked Bansi over, her mouth pursed up in deep contemplation. "If you aren't my papa, then who are you?"
Bansi kept smiling, and showed no sign of surprise or consternation at the question. Gods, he was good with children. Had he gained that skill over the years we'd been parted? Or had it been there in him all along? He'd doubted his ability to be a father, back then, but I saw him with her now and couldn't fathom why. When he glanced at me, a question in his eyes, I nodded. I had never lied to Elodie about the circumstances of her birth. "I'm your father," he told her. "Does that make sense?"
Elodie nodded slowly. "Papa says sometimes fathers aren't papas, and sometimes papas aren't fathers."
"That's right." His smile was back, brighter than ever. "See, I knew you had a good one." He leaned in close as though to impart upon her another secret, but this time he stage-whispered, "You make sure you keep him around, all right? Papas like yours are worth the world. If you're smart, you don't let them go for anything." As before, he spoke to Elodie but his gaze was on me, and I felt every word like a blow.
"El." My chest was too tight. I couldn't breathe. "Could you give us a few minutes, please?"
Bansi made to rise to his feet, but before he could, Elodie gripped his arm. "Wait!" She threw us both panicked looks. "Am I going to have to go live with you?"
I waited, braced and breathless and aching, for Bansi to do as he always did, to throw his charm and his wealth around and expect it to earn him whatever it was he wanted. I waited for him to tell Elodie about his expansive house, to promise her a bedroom of her very own that was bigger than the entirety of our modest home, to ply her with the temptation of delicacies that I couldn't ever afford to give her. I waited for it, and wondered if I could survive the pain of it if he succeeded.
Bansi glanced up at me, and put a hand on Elodie's shoulder and said, "Well, now. I'd love to have you over"--and his voice broke, just there, and made my chest hurt all the more fiercely--"but I think that's something you and your papa are going to have to decide together."
It was too much. I couldn't bear it a moment longer. I muttered a hasty, "Excuse me, Elodie," and I rushed out of the house and dropped down onto the front steps as the tears I'd been holding back finally burst from me.
The door behind me swung open, then shut. I ignored it. A presence settled at my side, too large to be Elodie. "Ren." The warmth of his hand hovered over my back, but didn't touch. "What's wrong?"
"I hate you," I sobbed against the calluses on my palms. "Oh gods, I hate you."
He made a low noise. It sounded upset, but it didn't sound hurt. He laid his hovering hand on my back and rubbed circles that I was sure he meant to be soothing. "No, you don't."
I choked on bitter laughter. "Oh, yes, keep acting just like that. Please. It's so much easier to bear when you're insufferable."
He hesitated, his palm stilling against my shoulder blade. "What is? What's easier?"
I dropped my hands, then, and looked at him, and didn't try to slow the stream of tears that poured down my cheeks. Let him bear witness to the devastation that he had wrought. It had been five years, and he'd never had to see the consequences of his actions, not really. The walls I had built to protect myself had hidden the damage from view, but now they were gone, demolished over the course of the past few minutes. Let him see, then, the mess he had made of me.
"Ren…" He reached for me. I pulled away as soon as his fingertips touched my cheek. He curled them on my shoulder, instead, and leaned his brow against my temple. His breath jerked and stuttered against my ear. "What is this? What's easier? Please, tell me why you're crying."
"It was easier," I said harshly, wiping at the tears on my cheeks and leaving a smeared mess behind, "when I believed you'd be as terrible a father as you feared. I thought that it was all for the best. You'd done me and Elodie both a favor when you'd left, because you'd have been wretched at it, and it made the pain easier to bear. But instead…" A fresh wave of tears stung my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I hiccuped and hated myself for this weakness. "You're wonderful with her. And I do, I do hate you for that."
Bansi slid off the step and came around to crouch in front of me, kneeling there on the edge of the street. He caught my hands in his, pressed them together and gazed up at me. "I don't understand," he said, beseeching. "Explain it to me. Please?"
I could barely even talk, the tears were coming so fast and so thick. But he'd loosed this flood of words and there was no damming them back up now. They forced their way out of me in gasps and sobs that nearly doubled me over with their violence. "All of this," I snarled. I pulled against his grip on my hands, but though it remained gentle, he didn't release me. "All of it, it was pointless. It didn't have to be this way. Gods damn you, why couldn't you have been like this five years ago? Why now, when it's too late?" I jerked my hands again, wanting to wipe away the tears that filled my eyes and left my vision a blurred mess, but he still wouldn't let me go. So I surged forward instead. I threw myself at Bansi, the very last recourse in my agony of grief, and pressed my face to his shoulder and let his shirt wick my tears away. "We could have been a family, Ban, instead of sitting here doling out time with our daughter like coin into our purses. All the fine gifts you've given me, and that's all I ever really wanted from you."
"You can have it." He lifted my head from his shoulder and held my face cupped in his hands. His thumbs swept over my cheeks, brushing the tears away. "It isn't lost, not yet." His thumb grazed my lips, though there weren't any tears there to wipe away. He stilled with the pad of one thumb still resting on the corner of my mouth. "I hate myself as much as you do, Ren," he said, his voice shattered and soft. "I hate what I did to you. I hate that I could have had those years with you, with Elodie, but I let fear steal them from me. But it's not ruined, not yet." He pulled me in and pressed his mouth to mine.
I hadn't the heart to break away, not this time. His kiss was a weak balm to the raw, open wound of my heart, but it was balm all the same. I clung to him, and kissed him back, and wished it were as simple as he made it seem.
He drew back before I did, but kept the connection between us with his hands framing my face and the press of his brow against mine. "I told you, didn't I? I put the choice in your hands. It's yours to make."
The tears still came, though less violently. I gazed at him and wept for what we might have had, all the possibilities that were long behind us now. "It's not that simple."
"No. It's not simple at all. But it's still possible." He kissed me again, sweetly, gently. "Do you still love me, Ren?"
"Oh gods." I broke away and buried my head in my arms, shaking with wretched laughter. I could lie to Corine and I could lie to Bansi, but I couldn't lie to myself, not anymore. "No, I don't. That's the worst of it. Not still. You made me fall for you all over again."
There was a wet sound, like a rush of breath or tearing cloth. And then Bansi was grabbing me, pulling me against him and clutching me so hard it made my ribs ache. I curled my hands in the back of his shirt and held on just as tight. "Ren. Renad." His hands raced over my hair, across my face, stroking frantically. "We can overcome anything if we have that, can't we?"
I pressed my face to the solid strength of his shoulder and shook my head. He made it sound so easy. He always made everything sound so simple. "No. How could we? Everything's changed. We've changed."
"For the better, don't you think?" His hands settled at the small of my back. He turned his face toward mine, nuzzling against the side of my throat. "I was young and stupid and spoiled, Ren. I'd have been no good to either of you."
"You still are." I brought my hands up to the back of his neck and held him there, where the foreign, familiar spiced scent of him filled my lungs.
His laughter was soft and warm and comforting. "Young?"
"Hopelessly spoiled."
I felt him smile against my skin. "But a little wiser now, I hope."
I laughed at that. It was wet and thick with tears, but it held humor in it all the same. "Oh gods, I hope so."
He smiled and kissed me tenderly again. "What do you want, Renad? Tell me that."
I closed my fingers on the short, fine strands of hair at his nape. "I need to—"
"No." He shook his head hard, interrupting me. "Not need. Not have to. What do you want?"
Tears filled my eyes again and dripped down my cheeks. It was unfair of him to ask me that. But I was already raw and aching — what was one more gaping wound to add to the collection? "I want what I've always wanted," I said, shutting my eyes in surrender. "I want a family."
He was quiet a moment, his palm drawing soothing circles across my back. "You have that, don't you?" he said at last, uncertain. "You have Elodie."
I drew back so I could see him. "That's not what I meant."
The corners of his lips turned up in the faintest hint of a smile. He clicked his tongue. "Will wonders never cease. After all these years, have I finally taught you the merits of being just a little bit greedy?"
He was just teasing. He meant nothing ill by it. But his words made me sigh and drop my gaze all the same. "Perhaps," I admitted. I tried to pull back, but Bansi wouldn't loosen his arms around me. "But the difference between rich and poor is that we know you can't always have the things you want."
"You can." Bansi's hands tightened on me. His fingers bit into my upper arms as his voice took on a new urgency. "You can, Renad. You just have to choose it."
My heart pounded so hard that each beat battered against my ribs. The air was too thick to breathe, leaving me gasping, my shoulders shaking. Bansi held out the promise of the future I had wanted for so long as though it were a bauble, and all I had to do was take it from his hand. But I was a citizen of Copper Street first and foremost, and every instinct in me warned that something that seemed to good, too easy, surely was, and those who reached for more than fate had given them were more likely to be kicked back into their place than to succeed.
Bansi's arms circled me, a wordless promise of support and protection. I shuddered in his embrace. I could see that future that he promised me, close enough to touch, close enough to grasp. We could fix the mess that we'd made of our love. We could bridge the years-long gulf between us. We could have everything. I could have everything.
But there was always a cost. I could have it all, but could I afford the price that might be demanded of me? I'd thought I'd had everything once before, and it had ended so badly that I still felt the pain of it etched into the deepest parts of my heart. If he carved new wounds over those old scars, would I be able to bear it? Would it destroy me?
I could send him away. He'd said he'd go, if that's what I chose. I need only ever see him when I brought Elodie over to visit. I could stand up and walk inside and shut the door on him, and keep everything in our life just as it was. It wasn't a poor life that Elodie and I had made for ourselves here. We had been happy. We could be happy still.
It wasn't what I wanted.
I drew an unsteady breath and straightened. Bansi loosened his arms so I could sit up, but he didn't let me go. His hands trailed across my shoulders and down my arms. He threaded his fingers through mine and held my hands. He watched me like a man waiting to be sentenced, trying to remain stoic in the face of impending disaster.
"Elodie comes first," I said softly, looking down at my knees. Bansi drew a sharp breath and tightened his fingers on mine. "If she's not happy, it ends. I won't compromise on that."
"Of course. Of course. Ren, are you saying you will? Will you come home with me?" Something in my face must have given him my answer even before I could overcome my surprise enough to do so myself. He held his hands up and was stammering before I even spoke. "No, you don't have to, I understand, that's too much. I'd give you our own wing if you want it, though, both of you. It's too big a house for one person, you were always right about that. We could put up a wall, get you your own locks, your own keys. It'll be yours if you want it—"
I put my hands over his, stilling them and calming the torrent of words flowing out of him. "Ban…"
"I just want to be near you both."
I sighed. Old instincts, old habits rose up and bade me tell him no, that I would keep my home because it was mine. If I said it, I was sure he'd relent. But that wasn't the picture of family that I held in my mind.
"I'll sell it," he said before I could speak.
I stared at him. "You just bought it."
"I don't care. I'll buy a new one, one down here, closer to you."
I had to laugh. "Gods. I'm teaching her how to manage her money, when it comes to that." Bansi's face shone with pleasure at the very thought, and I didn't have to guess that he was seeing the same future I did, of years that would fly by too fast and Elodie growing up right before our eyes, of teaching her what she needed to know to live in this world. It was a wonderful picture. I couldn't destroy it. "It's so far from my shop," I said helplessly, already knowing I was defeated.
"Sell the shop," Bansi said with a dismissive gesture, as though it were the obvious solution.
I drew back, frowning. "Wait now—"
"Ren, you hate it."
"I don't! I—"
"You like tinkering." He shot me a level look that brooked no argument. "You like fixing things, or taking one thing apart and turning it into something new. You don't like having to work your fingers to the bone to keep your shop stocked with trinkets you feel no passion for. I'll buy scrap for you by the cartful so you can tinker to your heart's content." I scowled. "Or join the family business, and you can buy it yourself."
That took me by surprise. I reared back and stared at him. "Join it? I don't know the first thing about spices."
He raised an eyebrow at me, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned like I'd issued a challenge. "You know business, and you know the city. You'd be an asset. I'll prove it to you. You know well enough how we run our business. If you could change something, any one thing, what would you do?"
"You keep the finer spices for the Regent's Market," I said. I didn't even have to think about it, really, though that surprised me. I'd never deliberately considered it before. "You shouldn't do that. Bring them to the lower market. You'll have to sell them at a lower price point down here, but you'll make up for that in volume if you do it right. If they can get it at a price they can afford, even people down here will pay for a taste of luxury."
Bansi beamed, proud as a peacock. "There. You see? That's brilliant. You'll more than earn your pay." He drew me in, slowly like he wasn't certain I'd allow him. I did, though, and he slid his arms around my waist and propped his chin on my shoulder. "Come with me," he murmured against my ear. "Let's make it the family business in truth, instead of just in name. You can spend your days up to your elbows in spice, instead of grease. We'll teach it to Elodie, too, and when she's older she can join us."
"Elodie will finish school," I said pertly. "And if she follows in our footsteps it will be because she chose it for herself, and not because of any demands we placed on her." Bansi beamed at me. I frowned at him, confused. "What?"
"Our footsteps, you said."
I bit at my lip. It was a fantasy. It was rash and self-indulgent. It was everything Bansi had been trying to encourage in me for so many years, and it wasn't like me at all. But I wanted it and maybe, maybe just this once, I could let myself have something just for the joy it would bring me. I released my lip from between my teeth and let an answering smile spread across my face. "Yes."
He whooped with joy and dragged me into an embrace that seemed to crush the air from my lungs. I smiled and inhaled the smell of him from his shirt and didn't mind in the least.
Bansi held me against him with one arm as he called over my shoulder, "Elodie, you can stop listening at the keyhole now."
Almost immediately, the door creaked open and Elodie slipped through, looking sullen. She hung back and scuffed a toe against the step. "You made my papa cry."
"It's because I'm happy, sweetheart." I reached to her and she came, sliding into my embrace. Bansi made room between us for me to pull her onto my lap.
She squinted at me. "Why are you happy?"
"Because I told him our secret," Bansi said.
Elodie whipped around to stare at him, then back at me. "I wanted to tell him! Telling is the best part of secrets."
Bansi laughed. "Go on, then. Tell him. I'm sure you'll do a better job of it than me."
Elodie nestled closer on my lap and leaned in, cupping her hand to whisper into my ear, "He said I must love you very much, and I said I did. He said the secret was that he did too." She drew back and looked up at me. "Is that what made you cry, Papa? Is that why you're happy?"
I was crying again. I nodded and kissed her cheek and let the tears flow. We had so much left to sort out between us, so many arrangements to make, so many decisions facing us. This was still new for us, in a sense, and entirely new for Elodie, and the waters that lay before us were unfamiliar, uncharted. We would have to take care in plotting our course, to find a way forward that satisfied us all, but right now-- "Right now, sweetheart, I don't think I could be happier," I told her, and rejoiced in the feel of her little arms around my neck, and Bansi's stronger embrace around us both.
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