Page 35

There’s a postcard sticking out of the mailbox when I leave the building.

It’s an unassuming slip of a thing, so glossy that I drop it as I’m rifling through the rest of the envelopes, looking for bills. My heart still seizes in my throat as a reflex, but most of the mail ends up being junk or early notices, so I let the box fall shut.

A shiny red guitar embossed on card stock winks up at me from the top porch step. I bend to pick it up, rubbing my thumb across the curly script declaring the name and address of a shop.

It’s close enough to my destination that I can swing by on the way, but I wonder if it was sent to me in particular, or if everyone in Paterson got one.

If it might be an accident.

Tucking it into the pocket of my hoodie, I hurry to the Subaru, leaves crunching under the soles of my sneakers. A chill kisses the air. Fall is well and truly here.

I almost change course a dozen times on the way to the address on the postcard, but by the time the half-hour drive into the city ends, I’ve made up my mind.

I want to go.

I can’t help scowling at the amount flashing on the parking meter as I dip my credit card into the machine. I waste no time hurrying up West 48th Street.

A gaggle of college kids lurk outside the shop, giggling.

I don’t want to stop to admire the sign while they’re watching, so instead I clear my throat and ask the girl with hot-pink streaks in her hair closest to me, “Is there, um, a line?”

“Nah, Keelie’s just scared to talk to the hot owner,” says her friend, a silver ring glinting on his bottom lip as he smirks.

The girl called Keelie thumps him on the chest with one fist, hiding her face with her other hand, while the third member of their group whispers, “You’ve got this, Keel. Go ask him for a lesson like that other girl did.”

In a garbled voice, the pink-haired girl tells me, “Please, go in before me.”

I flash her a sympathetic look. Perhaps no one in the world knows better than me how it feels to be in her shoes.

Bells chime above my head as I enter. There’s indeed already a customer with the owner. I observe them for a moment, noting the way he shoots her that irresistible lopsided smile while showing her how to play basic chords.

“You’re a natural already,” he tells the red-headed girl.

Her face flushes to match the color of her hair. I won’t judge if she walks out of here with a guitar and six picks she never intends to touch again, but more power to her.

A familiar figure notices me first and slinks over to rub against my ankles, purring like a motor. I bend down to pick up Thara the cat, smiling at the music-note charm on her brand-new collar. “So that’s where you got off to.”

Nayim glances up at the sound of my voice, jaw dropping. “Z-Zahra, you came?”

Still holding Thara, I retrieve the postcard. “Was I not supposed to?”

“No, uh, you were!” he exclaims. “Of course you were! I asked the imam to put it in your mailbox. I just… wasn’t sure he’d approve. Or that you’d be here so soon. Or ever.”

Guitar girl takes the hint and wanders over to the other side of the counter, mumbling something about returning after her accounting class. Nayim offers her an energetic wave, though his eyes remain glued to me.

We take the opportunity to evaluate each other while she’s exiting. Nayim looks as devastatingly handsome as ever. Maybe even more so, in his black leather jacket and beanie, like he stepped right off a Rolling Stone cover.

“I needed to come into the city anyway,” I tell him when we’re alone.

“Oh good!” he says, a bit too enthusiastically. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m glad I didn’t mess everything up for you when I came back. Sorry again for pulling that stunt on you without asking, by the way. Since you like romance novels so much, I figured a grand gesture would be the best way to win you back, and I let my mum go a bit overboard planning it out.”

That night is still something of a haze in my mind.

Eventually, Amma was able to lure Nayim over to the bridge so I could give him back his ring and turn him down in relative privacy. Of course, news of our breakup managed to spread through the whole city despite my best efforts, anyway.

I didn’t think he’d ever forgive me, or that I’d ever hear from him again… until today.

“Grand gestures are hit-or-miss in real life… but I’m over it,” I tell him truthfully, smiling until he smiles back. “It honestly makes me happy to see you doing so well, Nayim. Just because we won’t get married doesn’t mean we can’t stay friends.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “True, even though getting rejected proper sucked, I don’t regret it. I always thought both of my parents were hell-bent on shoving me into the Perfect Son box no matter how hard I screamed inside. But we understand each other better now because of you.”

I frown down at Thara’s fluffy head. “I swear I’m not hung up on it anymore, but all the stories you told me…”

Nayim senses the question in my voice at once, and answers ruefully, “Most of it was the truth, you know? Everything except my family.”

I nod, but that’s not quite the end of the story, so I gently venture, “Is everything going okay with them now?”

A grin alights on Nayim’s face, chasing away all shadows. “Bajan hasn’t quite come around to the ‘peddling guitars on the street’ thing, as he calls it, but everything that’s happened since has only convinced me that my mother, at least, will always have my back. She even got Bajan to invest in the shop. He’s coming with her and my sister, Noreen, to visit it next time she’s stateside. To make sure I’m not ‘blowing through’ his money. But hey, it’s something.”

It feels strange to hear him talk about his family so casually after all the secrets, but I’m glad we’re finally being honest with each other. I cast a glance over my shoulder, where it appears Keelie has invited more friends to pine with her. Turning back to Nayim, I arch a brow. “I have a feeling finding business won’t be a problem for you, Casanova. Especially when the other Paterson girls learn that Prince Dalim Kumar is still up for grabs.”

“Maybe.” He chuckles uneasily and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “This isn’t exactly how either of us imagined I’d accomplish my dream, though, is it? I have to admit, it’s a bit gutting knowing I only got here with my family’s money.”

For a moment, I contemplate this, stroking Thara’s soft black fur. Then I shake my head. “No. It’s good you let them do that. I think they need to feel needed sometimes. To know you still want them around to take care of you.”

It’s a form of love, all on its own.

He smirks. “Speaking from experience?”

“Shut up.” I glare even as begrudging amusement tugs at the corners of my mouth. It’s impossible to resist giving in to it. Nayim’s joy always was infectious. “Besides, it’s okay if your dream doesn’t look exactly how you expected it to. Dreams are messy and difficult and important to hold on to because of that. I know that better than anyone.”

“I guess you do,” he replies, smile softening into something painfully tender.

I clear my throat and put Thara down. “Anyway, I’m jealous you have such a cute coworker, but glad you won’t be lonely all by yourself out here.”

“I’m just glad someone wanted to come with me,” he jokes. “My ego couldn’t have survived if Thara turned me down too.”

I huff another laugh. “Thanks for inviting me here, Nayim.”

“Thanks for coming,” he responds. “Where are you off to now?”

“There’s just one more thing I have to do.”

We part as friends.