Page 102 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“You look beautiful,” I said.

“I missed you!” she said breathily, taking me in her embrace.

“Me too, my love.” The familiar scent of her delicate, aquatic perfume felt reassuring, and the house was enveloped in the warm, inviting smell of spices. “Are you cooking?”

“I thought you needed some TLC after the tough week in India, so I made dinner.”

I kissed her. “And later, we’re going to have sex,” I announced, pulling a handful of condoms from my pocket.

“Oh, ambitious!”

“Sex, Tara, sex. Not tender lovemaking. I want rough, hot, kinky sex.”

She rolled her eyes and walked to the kitchen. Small but well organized, it had a little round dining table in a corner. Above it, a lamp hung from the ceiling, making it both romantic and cozy.

“What did you make?”

“Not pav bhaji,” she teased me with a grin that showed her perfect mouth, the front two teeth slightly bigger than the rest. She used to tease me that I had a type. I grinned at the memory and said, “I can smell that.” As if I could really tell the difference. But I could never fool her. She narrowed her eyes at me, then smiled.

“I made my mom’s chicken curry with roti and rice. And a side salad. Sound okay?”

“Sounds fantastic.” I kissed her cheek. “And smells even better.”

As I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, she put one hand on my cheek and stirred the curry. Scooping some with a fresh spoon, she blew on it and brought it to my face that was resting on her shoulder.

“Taste for salt and spice.”

“Mmm, it’s perfect.”

“Is it too spicy?”

“No, it’s just right. Different from the curries I’ve had.”

“Yes, this one uses a browned onion and coconut paste that’s made fresh.”

“You made it?”

She nodded. “It’s Aai’s family recipe.”

“I love you.” I hugged her tighter. She turned around in my arms and kissed me.

I took the opportunity and brought my hand to her breast, but she promptly removed it and pointed to a cabinet. “Kinkiness later. Can you set the table?”

“Sure, if you direct me.”

“Seriously? How do you not know how to set the table?”

I pulled out dinnerware and flatware while she carried the food to the table. Over dinner, she told me about her visit to New York. She was wracked with guilt at the way Sujit had thrown her a surprise party and at the fact he was still just as kind and considerate.

“Tara,” I said with my eyes set on the plate, “I completely forgot about your birthday.”

“That’s alright.” She placed her hand over mine. “You have a lot going on.”

“It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

I had reminded myself before I left for India, but amid everything happening, it escaped my attention. A sudden pang of guilt hit my heart. There was Sujit, whose life was drama-free, and who cared enough to throw her a surprise party. And then there was me, in love with her, engaged to another woman, and trying to redeem myself by becoming the primary caregiver of yet another woman’s daughter.

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