donation—”
“But how did he find out?”
“I don’t know. Apparently, he’d called his Father to see if it was true or not. Then he left Santa Monica and came here. From what I gather, he didn’t even do the shoot. He was so intent on confronting me.”
“ Confronting you?”
She nods. “ Dilvan has never been one to take responsibility for his actions. He wanted to blame me for the way he mistreated you. Apparently, had I told him about the transplant, he would’ve treated you with the respect you deserve...that’s what he was trying to tell me.”
“That doesn’t make much sense. Why not just treat me with respect anyway?”
“Exactly, dear. That’s what I need to get through his thick skull.”
My cell phone beeps again. I pick it up from the table and see another text message from Tyson:
Tyson : hey, for dinner, which would you prefer...Greek shrimp and couscous or pecan-crusted trout with succotash-stuffed Roma tomatoes?
A frown comes to my forehead. What the heck is couscous ? My frown quickly turns into a smile, though, when I glance at my watch. It’s just after one in the afternoon and he’s already thinking about dinner. With me. Or maybe he meant to send the text to someone else? Hmm...I wonder...
Gabrielle : did you mean to send me that?
I send him that response and wait.
“Has Tyson cooked for you yet?” Padma asks.
“Yes . He made a breakfast pastry this morning that had my mouth watering even after I finished it.”
Padma chuckles.
“And he made tiramisu?”
Her mou th stretches open wide. Her eyes are even wider. “He did! Ooh, I’m gonna get him.”
I laugh at her. “Why?”
“I’ve been trying to get that man to make me some tiramisu for the longest...he told me he only makes it for special occasions.”
“Nah, I think he was experimenting with something and he just so happened to have some partially prepared.”
My phone beeps again. I know it’s Tyson’s response, so I pick it up immediately to read his text:
Tyson : of course, Bri.
I smile again and can feel myself turning red in the face.
“Who are you smiling at over there, young lady ?” Padma says with an inquisitive look on her face.
“It’s nothing. Tyson was just texting me to see what I wanted for dinner.”
“Well you tell Mr. Tyson I got a bone to pick with him,” she quips.
“I’ll tell him.”
“I have to have some of his tiramisu, and I want some of that pecan-crusted trout he cooked for Prasad’s anniversary dinner. Prasad couldn’t stop talking about it.”
And now I know what I want for dinner...
Gabrielle : well, in that case, the second option sounds tasty.
Tyson : perfect...at the market now...call me if you need a ride home.
Gabrielle : k
“So how are you planning on moving forward with Dilvan?” Padma asks.
“I’m not sure. It’s just too much to think about right now.”
“Are you certain that it’s over?”
“I didn’t want it to be over. I just wanted him to not treat me the way he did. But after two miscarriages and being humiliated, I can’t...” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Padma sighs. “I hate for you to do this, but maybe you need to sit down and talk to him. Either way you look at it, you’re going to have to do that...whether it’s for reconciliation or divorce.”
“I know. I just don’t want to be alone with him.”
“You won’t be. Tyson has already said he’d be happy to sit down with you two.”
“Yeah...he told me.” I feel nervous just talking to Padma about the possibility of sitting down and having a talk with Dilvan. I don’t want to feel the way Dilvan has made me feel for the past six months. That feeling scares me...transforms me into a scared little girl. “So do you think he’s remorseful?”
“ Who? Dilvan?”
“Yes.”
Padma sighs. “I don’t know, dear. He was upset, yes. He told Beatrice he made a mistake with you...”
I shake my head and cover my eyes,
“But how did he find out?”
“I don’t know. Apparently, he’d called his Father to see if it was true or not. Then he left Santa Monica and came here. From what I gather, he didn’t even do the shoot. He was so intent on confronting me.”
“ Confronting you?”
She nods. “ Dilvan has never been one to take responsibility for his actions. He wanted to blame me for the way he mistreated you. Apparently, had I told him about the transplant, he would’ve treated you with the respect you deserve...that’s what he was trying to tell me.”
“That doesn’t make much sense. Why not just treat me with respect anyway?”
“Exactly, dear. That’s what I need to get through his thick skull.”
My cell phone beeps again. I pick it up from the table and see another text message from Tyson:
Tyson : hey, for dinner, which would you prefer...Greek shrimp and couscous or pecan-crusted trout with succotash-stuffed Roma tomatoes?
A frown comes to my forehead. What the heck is couscous ? My frown quickly turns into a smile, though, when I glance at my watch. It’s just after one in the afternoon and he’s already thinking about dinner. With me. Or maybe he meant to send the text to someone else? Hmm...I wonder...
Gabrielle : did you mean to send me that?
I send him that response and wait.
“Has Tyson cooked for you yet?” Padma asks.
“Yes . He made a breakfast pastry this morning that had my mouth watering even after I finished it.”
Padma chuckles.
“And he made tiramisu?”
Her mou th stretches open wide. Her eyes are even wider. “He did! Ooh, I’m gonna get him.”
I laugh at her. “Why?”
“I’ve been trying to get that man to make me some tiramisu for the longest...he told me he only makes it for special occasions.”
“Nah, I think he was experimenting with something and he just so happened to have some partially prepared.”
My phone beeps again. I know it’s Tyson’s response, so I pick it up immediately to read his text:
Tyson : of course, Bri.
I smile again and can feel myself turning red in the face.
“Who are you smiling at over there, young lady ?” Padma says with an inquisitive look on her face.
“It’s nothing. Tyson was just texting me to see what I wanted for dinner.”
“Well you tell Mr. Tyson I got a bone to pick with him,” she quips.
“I’ll tell him.”
“I have to have some of his tiramisu, and I want some of that pecan-crusted trout he cooked for Prasad’s anniversary dinner. Prasad couldn’t stop talking about it.”
And now I know what I want for dinner...
Gabrielle : well, in that case, the second option sounds tasty.
Tyson : perfect...at the market now...call me if you need a ride home.
Gabrielle : k
“So how are you planning on moving forward with Dilvan?” Padma asks.
“I’m not sure. It’s just too much to think about right now.”
“Are you certain that it’s over?”
“I didn’t want it to be over. I just wanted him to not treat me the way he did. But after two miscarriages and being humiliated, I can’t...” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Padma sighs. “I hate for you to do this, but maybe you need to sit down and talk to him. Either way you look at it, you’re going to have to do that...whether it’s for reconciliation or divorce.”
“I know. I just don’t want to be alone with him.”
“You won’t be. Tyson has already said he’d be happy to sit down with you two.”
“Yeah...he told me.” I feel nervous just talking to Padma about the possibility of sitting down and having a talk with Dilvan. I don’t want to feel the way Dilvan has made me feel for the past six months. That feeling scares me...transforms me into a scared little girl. “So do you think he’s remorseful?”
“ Who? Dilvan?”
“Yes.”
Padma sighs. “I don’t know, dear. He was upset, yes. He told Beatrice he made a mistake with you...”
I shake my head and cover my eyes,
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