Page 39 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“He’s not invited anyone. Aarti’s doing all the planning.”

“Then I absolutely shouldn’t be there.”

“Tsk, where’s the fun in that? If you come along as my guest, he’ll have to behave, and you get to rub it in.”

“Rub what in?” I wondered how much Sameer had told him about our past.

“He’s still hung up on you, but can’t bring himself to own it.”

“Oh, he owned it alright! He owned it with one arm tightly wrapped around Aarti.”

“Exactly.”

I heaved a big sigh. “Why would you do this? I thought you were his friend.”

“To give you both a second shot.”

“What if I don’t want one?”

“That’s your choice. I’m trying as Sameer’s friend, perhaps yours. You can always refuse.” His voice held a veiled challenge, and I found challenges very hard to resist.

I took a moment to mull it over. It would surely fluster Sameer if I showed up unannounced at a party his girlfriend was throwing. It would also allow me to demonstrate how completely over him I was. Which I was, I asserted.

“Okay, I’m in,” I said. “What’s the dress code? I don’t want to be caught under or overdressed among the rich and the bratty.”

He chuckled but it was a sophisticated sound. “Casual. Very casual. Pick you up at seven?”

“Perfect.”

Summer had set in bright and strong, and in keeping with the season, I chose an off-the-shoulder yellow midi dress that Saturday. Instead of using a flat iron on my hair, I fluffed my naturally playful waves. With matching yellow polish on my nails, red lips, and flirty tan heels, I was dressed to provoke. I had found the perfect gift for Sameer, with the perfect message written inside. Grabbing the shoulder bag that I hauled everywhere, I waited for Mihir.

Game on!

When he pulled up, he gave me a quick once-over. “Not bad.”

“Thank you,” I said as we rolled out of the driveway. “I must admit though, I feel like I’m making a dreadful mistake coming uninvited.”

He threw me a reassuring glance. “You aren’t coming uninvited. I RSVP’d for two. You’re my plus one. And this was my idea, and I don’t make mistakes.”

I was starting to like this troublemaker.

“Okay, but I’m leaving immediately if it gets awkward.”

“Of course, if you’re even the slightest bit uncomfortable, give me a sign and I’ll drive you home.”

In about a minute, we arrived at Sameer’s luxury condominium complex, with an emphasis on luxury. Suddenly, the picture of Sameer with the perfect Aarti made complete sense. But it wasn’t jealousy I felt at that moment. Indifference, perhaps. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to play.

We exited on the twenty-third floor, and while Mihir pushed the doorbell, I took a moment to run my nervous palms over my dress. Sameer answered the door, saw me, and stood dumbfounded.

“Happy Birthday, buddy,” Mihir said with a painfully loud slap on Sameer’s back as he brushed past him. Sameer blinked, then let me in.

“Abby was busy, so I brought a friend,” Mihir said to Aarti, who approached us with a smile. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course!” Aarti said, and she gave him a hug. “Good to see you again, Tara. Come in, please.” While she led us inside, I found Sameer still standing speechless by the door.

A small group had congregated in the living room, and all eyes turned to me.

“Everyone, this is my friend, Tara,” Mihir said. “She’s a terrific artist and an expert art appraiser, so if any of you are trying to pass off fakes, she’ll smoke you out.” A tide of polite laughter rolled around the room, and everyone took turns introducing themselves.

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