Page 64 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“Your loss!” I scooped a spoonful into my mouth.

He smiled.

“Keep those judge-y eyes off me while I eat away my grief.”

“I don’t have the audacity to judge you, nor the moral authority.”

“That’s never stopped you before.” I stuffed my mouth with another big scoop as his phone buzzed on the table. His smile faded.

“Text from Aarti?”

“Nothing important.” He breathed and clenched his jaw.

“I’m sorry, not my concern.”

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear.”

“You made it clear that night in the car, Sameer.” I tried to produce a scoff, but it sounded off-tone on account of my cold tongue.

“Let’s go,” he said, pushing back his chair, keys jangling in his hand. “Before this turns into another fight.”

I pointed to my bowl of dessert. “And this?”

“Eat it on the way.”

“You’re still heartless, aren’t you?” I cried as I followed him to the car.

Neither of us said a word as he drove us to his place. I considered asking him to drop me back at mine, but his crestfallen face discouraged me. The least I could do was be a good friend to him.

It was the first time I saw his condo in daylight, and the sun streaming in made the tastefully decorated space even more appealing. I had heard everything is big in Texas, but it was enormous, at least five times bigger than my apartment. I could see his artistic vision in the arrangement of furniture and the choice of accent pieces. Big, open glass windows stood in lieu of walls on two sides, inviting in the bright Texas sunlight.

“I never got a chance to tell you what a beautiful home you have,” I said to break the ice between us.

“It’s not a home yet. I’m hardly here during the week, and some weekends I spend at my parents’. Would you like to see the place?”

“Sure.” He went around the house, and I followed him with a sturdy grip on my ice cream bowl. The decor was minimalist but perfect. Everything looked like it had a purpose, and nothing was out of sync.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked as we circled back to the kitchen.

I held up my bowl, and he gave me a restrained smile.

“Would you like me to leave?” I asked.

“Why?” He frowned.

“I’m upset. I need to sulk. But if you’re going to do that too, I’d rather be by myself.”

He smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t know we couldn’t share the sulking. Take turns, perhaps?”

I shook my head and put the bowl to my lips to drink up the last molten bits of the cacophonous flavors, which tasted absolutely fine to me.

He held out his hand, and I placed the empty bowl in it. “Thank you.”

“You’re going to have a stomachache, a headache, or both. I’m waiting to see which hits you first.”

“I’ll gladly take either over the bloody heartache,” I said.

“There’s enough of that to go around. Aarti texted about setting a date for our engagement.”

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