Page 35 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“I’m in here,” Aarti called from the bedroom as I dropped my keys on the counter.

“Okay, give me a minute.” I detoured to the kitchen and poured a glass of water to buy myself a few more moments. Then, leaving the glass untouched, I headed to the bedroom.

Aarti looked up from her Kindle and straightened. “What’s the matter, baby? Are you alright?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

“You look pale.”

“It’s been a long week.”

I threw my jacket on a chair and went into the bathroom with a change of clothes. She was still reading when I returned. I knew where we were headed, but I couldn’t do that to Tara. I couldn’t do that to myself. I climbed into bed and lay on my back.

“Sameer, you’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” She locked the Kindle and placed it on the nightstand.

“Of course!” I forced a reassuring smile and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Really, I’m just tired. Too much going through my mind.”

“You wanna talk about it?” She let her slender finger trace my jawline.

I took her hand and kissed it. “Not today.”

She snuggled against me with her head on my chest, and I snuck my hands under my head to avoid putting them around her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm.”

“Does it have anything to do with Tara?” She looked up at me with wary eyes.

My heart thumped. “What?”

“Who is she, really?” She tried to soften her tone, but I felt the fire in her words.

“She’s Amar’s friend. We overlapped at the art college.” I made sure to maintain the equilibrium in my voice. “Why?”

“I got the feeling you two had been close.”

“We were friends for a year. That’s why she dragged me off to share some ridiculous theory about the painting. I don’t know those things anymore.”

Aarti was no fool, but I was a good liar. I had probably managed to convince her because she nodded and sat up with a smile. “What do you want to do for your birthday next weekend?”

“Next weekend?” I hadn’t realized it had already been a month since Tara arrived in Dallas. That funny hole in my chest reappeared.

“Hello-ooo.” Aarti’s singsong voice beckoned me.

“Sorry, yes.”

She shook her head and tousled my hair. “Silly boy,” she said, and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “I asked if you wanted to go away for the weekend or have friends over?”

“When you say have people over, you mean here, right? Not at my parents’ place?”

“Not unless you want that,” she said with a naughty smirk.

“Here sounds good. Let’s have friends over and get some drinks and pizza.”

She grimaced. “Pizza?”

“Why?”

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