Page 53 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Alright, I’ll see you in December,” Mihir said as we stood in the lobby of my hotel.

I frowned. “That’s it? You’re just going to casually say bye after flying across the span of a country into another to see me?”

“I can’t impose on you, Sona, but if you want to see me again, I’m at the hotel next door. Use the rear entrance of this building, and you’ll be at the doorstep, right across the street.

“That fancy historic hotel?”

“That’s where I stay when I visit. I’m in the King Suite, and you have my number.”

And then, the sneaky man just left! No hugs or his urbane kiss-on-the-cheek. Not even a handshake. Just a simple goodbye.

Ugh, he was so aggravating! I fumed as I knocked on Payal’s door. She didn’t answer, as expected, the reason why I had brought along a slice of the chocolate cake.

Open the door, I texted her, dexterously balancing the cake in one hand, the phone in another, with my loaded work tote strapped on my shoulder.

Go away. I’m comfortable in my bed.

I come bearing a treat.

The door opened a few inches. “What do you have?”

I gave her a peek. “A slice of heaven.”

“Alright, you can come in.” She tried to grab the container the moment I stepped in, but I pulled it away.

“Hey, did your results come back okay? I don’t want Jaya coming for my neck because I fed you too much sugar.”

She wrapped a loving arm around me and smiled widely. “Yes, everything’s good. Everything’s perfect.”

When I nodded, she snatched the box from me and came around to settle on the bed.

“Is Qing joining us?” I asked, pulling up a chair. Qing was her friend and a third of our co-editing team.

“No, she’s meeting friends for dinner.”

“That reminds me, do you want me to get you anything?”

“I ordered room service.” She raised her eyebrows. “What happened to that charmer? Did you ditch him again?”

“No, he bid me goodbye and retreated to his hotel.”

“What’s the problem here?” She readjusted herself in bed with the cake in her lap and a fork weaponized and ready to attack the delectable sponge.

“Absolutely none,” I said. “Shall we talk about the book now?”

She tried giving me the disapproving big-sister look she’d mastered, but I’d learned to dodge it years ago. Begrudgingly, she pulled out her journal of notes from our previous meetings, most of them conducted by phone or over video chat.

Editing a book wasn’t an easy task, but co-editing it with a brilliant, organized mind like Payal was a delightful and enlightening experience. She had learned much from her mentor, and I was learning from her.

“So, this Mihir…” She closed the journal after an hour’s discussion and dug into her leftover cake. “He’s delicious, isn’t he?”

I frowned at her. “Aren’t you pregnant?”

“And gay, but I don’t see your point.”

I grumbled audibly. She teased me with a grin for a moment before turning somber. “Look, he isn’t Ajay. Ajay was never right for you.”

“And Mihir is?”

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