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She smiled. “Okay, smarty-pants. Is that better?”
“Much.” I smiled back.
Fernando came back with our food and laid it out before us with graceful finesse. Marinated chicken breast on a bed of mushroom risotto for her, and a steak with seasonal vegetables for me.
“Thank you, Fernando,” I said and signaled him to bring more wine for Aarti.
“I don’t think we need to read too much into it,” I said as I sliced into my steak. “Seeking camaraderie at this time, especially with someone who knows exactly what you’re going through, is natural, normal. It could be healthy. Who knows, it might even help us move on from the heartache.”
A faint curve danced on her lips while she sliced a small piece off her chicken breast. Her eyes stayed on me as she placed the knife back, returning the fork to her right hand.
“Like I said, you’re a romantic. You believe in hope and rosy endings.”
“And you believe in surviving the now. Our friendship helps with both situations, as I see it,” I contended.
“One of these days, Sujit, Iwillhave the last word. I promise.”
I laughed. “Okay, I will shut up.”
“Don’t,” she said softly. “I like hearing you talk.”
“Yeah?” I pulled myself upright comically. “Is it the sound of my voice, or is it my words that you enjoy?”
Fernando came back with her wine and brought another whisky for me even though I hadn’t asked for one. He knew me well, and I offered him a grateful smile.
“It’s everything,” Aarti confessed when we were alone again. “It’s your gentle spirit, your kindness, your intellect. It’s your subtle wit. It’s everything,” she repeated.
I decided to underplay the weight of her compliments. We both were vulnerable at this moment and it wouldn’t be smart to read anything into what she was saying.
“Well, now I know the reason for your success,” I said instead.
“Oh?”
“You know how to read people.”
She relaxed back in her chair and picked up the wine glass. “It’s an acquired skill. Cultivated out of necessity.”
“And you do it very well.”
“Couldn’t read Sameer or Tara, so it’s been pretty useless in my personal life if you ask me. Although,” she said, taking a sip of the wine. “I did ask Sameer about Tara the very first night I met her. I knew something was off. So maybe I just trusted the wrong person.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” I suggested. “How’s the city treating you?”
“It’s still bloody cold!”
“Winter is just a long, circuitous route to Spring,” I said and watched as she resisted rolling her eyes.
“Where are you getting all these?The Hopeless Romantic’s Handy Guide to Platitudes?”
I feigned shock. “How did you know? Do you also own a copy?”
We both split into what I’m certain was impolitely loud laughter.
“Tell me about this place you’re scouting,” she said as she picked up the orzo on her fork. “What exactly are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”
I hesitated. It was too soon in our relationship, business or personal, to confide in her about my new project. But if anyone could help, it would be her. She had that clout and the brilliance. Was I getting enamored by her?
Reading my hesitation, she smiled. “It’s not for a satellite office. It’s something you can’t share yet.” A statement, not a question.