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I let him ruminate in the pleasure of the first sip before I asked, “Did you hear about the wedding?”
He looked up as if the news had shocked him. Then, relaxed his back against the couch and said, “Yes, Tara sent me an invitation.”
My stunned brows launched upward. “She invited you to their wedding? That’s cold.”
He promptly shook his head and said, “It isn’t. It’s not malicious like it appears. The last time we talked, when she came clean to me, I told her we would continue being friends. We ended our relationship on a positive note. The invitation is just her sweet way of keeping our friendship alive. It’s her way of showing she still cares for me and that she values me in her life.”
“So, you had a chance at closure, then. You are lucky,” I said with mild bitterness, suddenly envious of their relationship. When he didn’t respond, I added, “You certainly seem to have a high regard for her.”
“I do. It wasn’t a slight decision that I had intended to spend my life with her. She is a good person. It’s a pity she didn’t love me enough.”
I knew what he meant. Love, desire, passion, or whatever else we call it, was strange. There was always scope for us to love more than one person, but the falling in love part was so messy it felt like there could never be another.
“If you’re truly the person who’s sitting here right now, she didn’t deserve you.”
He peered at me over the rim of his glasses, and my heart took a sudden, completely unexpected dip. I suspected he saw it too, because he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked away.
“Unless you’re not, and she did herself a big favor.” I was nothing if not brutally honest.
He surprised me by taking no offense at my words. “Only she can answer that for you.”
I studied him for a quick moment and shook my head. “She didn’t deserve you,” I declared, this time with conviction.
“Alright, let’s share notes. I’ll be a gentleman and begin first.”
“How’s that gentlemanly?” I frowned. “Shouldn’t it be ladies first or some such nonsense?”
He shook his head. “Not when it involves embarrassing oneself. Then chivalry is making yourself out to be the biggest chump, so the lady feels less like one.”
I returned a slight grin. “Your argument is convincing. Go on.”
It was difficult to keep my mind off those brilliant eyes and that beautiful mouth while he shared the tale of how they met and how easy their relationship had seemed to him. He was a stunning man, and I understood what Tara saw in him, although in the end, she’d stomped on his heart like Sameer had on mine.
“So there we were, driving upstate, where my family and close friends awaited our arrival for her surprise party, and all the while, she was wondering how to tell me she was breaking up with me.”
A sudden pang of pity pierced my heart as he finished talking and took an elegant pull of the smooth whisky.
“So, she tells you this after the whole surprise birthday event? After she’s met your parents?” I asked.
Of course, I had heard every word he’d uttered despite my simultaneous internal monologue. I was an excellent multitasker. An overachiever, my friends and competitors called me.
“Yes, but in her defense?—”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you defending her?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. She didn’t know what I had planned. That one is on me. I’m responsible for making a fool of myself.”
“So when was she planning to tell you?” I inquired with curiosity.
“That afternoon at lunch, whichIturned into her birthday party.”
“Well, you were definitely more generous than I was. Wanna hear my story?”
“Wait,” he said and picked up the bottle, “we need a refill.” He poured two fingers into each glass, then dropped an ice cube in them.