Page 57

I turned to face him and, looking straight into his eyes, declared, “I’m going to hug you now and possibly cry, and you’ll promise not to make a big deal out of it.”
He nodded. “Tears of relief or sorrow?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll decide when I’m done crying.”
“Alright,” he said and opened his arms for me.
I stayed in his arms until the doorman buzzed the intercom for the delivery. Sujit answered the door, collected the bags, and stocked my fridge and pantry while I went to the bathroom to wash away my tears.
“Milk, coffee, butter, eggs. Some bottled water. Took a chance and ordered bread, but I’ll get you a fresh loaf from my favorite bakery later. Some fresh pasta in the fridge, in case you feel like cooking, and dried pasta and sauce in the pantry. That should hold you until you can put in a proper order. And we’ll pick up some pots and pans in a bit if you want. I also ordered my favorite coffee maker. It’s not fancy, but it’s the best. It should be here in a bit. And I’ve already talked to my personal chef. He’ll be happy to come make meals for you a couple of times a week if you want.”
He stepped over to the counter and picked up a bunch of bananas. “Oh, I ordered some bananas. I saw you eat one first thing in the morning at my place, so I thought that’s something you do? Also got some apples. They’re in the crisper in the fridge.”
I hugged him again and shed a few more tears.
“Frustration,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Those were tears of frustration. Not sorrow, not relief.”
“We can remedy that too,” he said. “Dinner at Marco’s this evening?”
“How about La Traviata? I want the potpie.”
“Done,” he said and pushed the glasses up his nose to look at me. “I’m not a fan of your tears.”
“Sorry, but you’re the only one who gets to see them, so you’ll have to learn to deal with them.”
“That’s alright, too. I’m not worried,” he said with a single pat on my shoulder.
But I was. I was terrified that if I lost whatever it was that we had, I’d never have anyone who’d understand or appreciate my tears.
AARTI
It was a terrible way to go through the week. Between my emergent feelings for Sujit and Akash’s words of caution, all I felt inside me was anguish. A sense of helplessness that was debilitating.
Sujit had not only helped me move into my new place, but made the house a home in a short few minutes. I had never felt so loved and cared for. I had never yearned for this kind of connection before. Maybe it was the first-daughter syndrome, but I had always been adamant about being able to care for myself. Then, along came a man whose kindness melted the tough armor I had built around my heart. He had managed to pierce straight through it and he didn’t even know it. And I would never be able to tell him because Akash’s words held up flashing signs before me. The most poignant of them? Dad’s entire legacy was at stake if I continued to indulge in this foolhardy attraction.
His warning reminded me of Mary Beth.
The optics, it’s always about the optics, Mary Beth used to say. “Your life could be a glorious mess, but all that the world should get to see are rosy faces in fancy clothes. And don’t forget the wide smiles.”
Since my move to the city, Mary Beth had invited me several times to visit her. But I hadn’t, and she knew why. There was a reason she was my best friend. Her ability to give my introverted self the space I needed to thrive had been one of the most endearing features of our relationship. I didn’t want to talk about the breakup or the impending wedding, and she respected that.
That week, though, I missed her presence and her wisdom. I needed to make a headway through my misery.
I texted her.
Miss you. How’s everything?
She texted back instantly
Mary Beth
Glad to know you’re alive. You missed last week’s party.
I didn’t miss it and you know it.
I heard her laughter in my head as another text dinged.
Alright, I missed you then. Come over for a visit. I promise Ezzie won’t bite.