Page 43

ARUSH BAKSHI

Two months later

I’m once again lying down in a super high-class cabin, staring out the window as I fly back into the US.

This time, when I land, Julian will be waiting for me and expecting me .

I hold my hand up to look at the two bands on my finger—the one my father gave to Julian and the one Julian bought before he flew to India.

I wear them both because they symbolize something different, but also the same.

Both homes. Both cultures. My father and family’s support and blessing. Julian’s love and commitment. A future I only ever dreamed might be mine, but with no real conviction. Now it’s real. It’s mine.

Julian went back to Chicago a month ago to end his lease, meet with his agent to finalize his trade contract, pack our condo, and find us a house in Florida. It’s been a lot of fun touring houses virtually with him. He walks me through the entire property while on video and we discuss it together.

The one we decided on has been owned by hockey players in the past. Julian says he even knows the previous owner of the one he’s purchasing the house from. The guy now plays for L.A. and I think that’s kinda cool.

It’s been a very long month. Arguably, it might have been less difficult to be away from my new husband during the season when he’ll be traveling for hockey and is on the road for a week or two at a time.

But it was important to me to be here for Ishika while she healed.

Especially since the doctor said there were some touch-and-go moments.

And there were. Right before Julian and I were going to head back, Ishika ‘ crashed ’ and that was probably one of the most terrifying moments of my life, right next to my father calling to tell me that my sister had been in a bad accident and wouldn’t tell me if she’d be okay.

We made the difficult decision that Julian would go back and take care of business and we’d re-evaluate the situation once we had the contract for a new house in hand. That happened three days ago. The same day that Ishika came home.

Julian was ready to come back to India, and we’d spend August there before he needed to be in Florida for hockey camp, but my sister insisted I go home.

She said I needed to go be with my husband and begin our life together.

I agreed and promised I’d be a much better brother and call often as long as she promised that she’d be completely honest with me about her health and healing.

As much as I love my family—and I do, more than anything—leaving my friends again was probably the biggest struggle. I love all the people I met in the condo, and I miss them more than I ever thought I would, but being with my friends again truly emphasized just how lonely I had been in Chicago.

There’s no easy fix for that. Not really.

But all my friends promised they’d come out to visit this coming fall and winter.

When I told them Florida was supposed to have tropical weather year-round, they were even more convinced it was a good idea.

I promised to give them the dates of the longest stretches of time when Julian would be traveling for hockey.

Alok and Anil are excited to come out. They haven’t stopped talking about it since Julian suggested it. I think they already have their bags packed.

I catch my reflection in the airplane window. There’s a smile on my face. I didn’t realize I was smiling. Even with the nerves fluttering in my stomach again, knowing I’m just hours away from seeing Julian again, the smile won’t go away. It lingers.

This is what happiness looks like.

I know I’m very fortunate. I had a great, privileged, even spoiled childhood. I was happy. But the happiness I feel now, the warmth in my chest, the inability to stop smiling, and my excitement to see my husband after a very long month apart? It’s a different kind of happiness.

The meal I’m served for breakfast as I watch the sun light the sky from the tail of the plane is gourmet. I’m not sure I’ve had meals like this outside of travel with my family. There are flowers on my plate!

I text Julian as soon as I land. The text has barely gone through when he calls. My stomach jumps. At first, a million horrible things go through my mind as I answer.

“Hello?”

“Arush,” he says, and my heart flutters.

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

Julian chuckles. “That’s always going to be your first question when I call you, isn’t it?”

I relax. “Sorry. Hi. I’m here. Standing in the door of my cabin and waiting to be let off the plane.”

“Good. I’ve been here for an hour. I was too excited to see you to stay home.”

Now I can feel the way my grin splits my face. “I can’t wait.”

“Me too. I’ve missed you so damn much.”

I think I’m turning into a sap. Moisture stings my eyes, and I take a cleansing breath to push back all the emotions welling in my chest. “I have, too. It’s been a really long month.”

“It has,” Julian agrees. “I’m looking forward to holding you for the next twenty-four hours and not letting you go. You’re going to be taking a piss while holding my hand.”

I burst out laughing just as my door opens. My face reddens as I look at the stewardess. I know she didn’t hear Julian but oof.

She smiles, unfazed by my outburst. “Right this way, Mr. Bakshi.”

“Hold on, Julian,” I say into the phone and slip it into the pocket of my hoodie. “Thank you. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Not at all. I’m sure it’s a relief to be on the ground again.”

It is. The bigger relief is going to be seeing my husband again, but I don’t share that. I only nod and follow her out.

I distinctly remember the cold breeze that greeted me between the airbridge and the door of the plane when I first landed in Chicago six months ago. The blast of thick, hot air that greets me today is as opposite as can be.

Once I’m walking through the air bridge, I pull my phone back up. “Julian?”

“Yes. You off the plane?”

“Yep. Heading into the terminal. Don’t forget, I have like an hour of standing in the line at customs.”

He sighs. “Ridiculous.”

I grin. It makes me feel good that he’s as anxious to see me as I am him.

We remain on the phone while I walk through the airport and while I wait in the customs line. I only end the call when I’m next to being called up.

It feels like I’m a newly freed caged animal as customs clears me to enter the US. I truly try not to run, but there’s no doubt in my mind that my pace has at least doubled as I practically sprint toward baggage claim.

It’s crowded. There are so many damn people all the time! I scan the faces, my heart racing, as I head toward the carousel that should have my bags.

Then I see him. A giddy, almost hysterical laugh builds in my chest as I see he’s holding a sign with my name on it. Only this time, there are little hearts around my name in bright red. My smile is so big that it nearly splits my face.

He’s in gym pants and a hooded tank top.

He freshly had his hair cut and braided again, this time in cornrows with the sides and back faded and tapered.

I loved the way the small braids used to stick up like a halo glow around him but this new style gives me an undistracted view of his gorgeous face. And his smile is the sun.

His eyes meet mine, and for just a second, it feels like everyone around us vanishes. There are only the two of us here.

All pretense of patience falls away, and I run toward him, trying not to take anyone out with my carry-on. And then finally, I’m in his arms again. I grip him tightly, unable to convince myself to loosen my grip, no matter how hard I try. Thankfully, his arms are just as tight around me.

“I love you,” he whispers.

I’m far too choked up to answer. Instead, as if it were possible, my arms tighten further. Everything around us falls away. The people, the noise, the lights. Everything. There’s only us.

Until someone practically plows us over and we stumble as we catch ourselves. There’s a woman with a suitcase as big as she is, sprawled on the floor behind us. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she repeats as she tries to pull the suitcase up.

My eyes meet Julian’s for a second, and we help her get her suitcase upright. All the while, she continues to apologize. It’s probably a good thing it’s on wheels; otherwise, I’m not sure she’d be able to move it on her own.

“I suppose that’s our sign to get moving,” Julian says. He links my hand in his and we head for the carousel.

It’s already in motion, and I spot my single suitcase right away. Since it’s moving away from us, we wait for it to make another revolution and pull it off the next time it’s near. Then we’re moving outside.

“I think you’re going to regret your clothing choices,” Julian says, smirking at me.

I glance down at my Chicago Breeze hoodie just as the automatic door opens and a wall of muggy air hits me. I shudder, instantly breaking out in a sweat. “Ew.”

He laughs. “I’ll fill the closet with Florida Manatees tees.”

“And hoodies,” I say. “I love the comfort of a hoodie.”

“And hoodies,” Julian agrees. “Thankfully, every building is equipped with central air, so hoodies are still worn frequently.”

Julian doesn’t release my hand as we walk through the outside terminal and navigate our way around the insane traffic on our way to his car. It’s not the same vehicle that he had in Chicago.

“What happened to the other one?”

“I wasn’t interested in shipping it down here nor driving it, so I turned it in and leased a new one in Florida,” he says.

“Was that cheaper than either option?” I ask.

He laughs. “Nope. It wasn’t about the price so much as the convenience.”

“You did get a raise,” I reason.

Julian grins. “I did.”

I don’t know what hockey players normally make, but Julian shared with me the details of his contract, and as far as I’m concerned, it sounds like a good deal.