Page 61 of Born in Grief

“I have a plan. I thought we could refine it together. All of us, your friends too.”

Amay nodded. “I’ll call them.”

“This ends now, right?” Dhrithi said, a tremulous smile lighting up her face.

He caressed her face, one gentle finger tracing her jawline. “It does.”

“And then, maybe we could have our beginning?”

His finger trembled against her chin before he slowly grasped it and bent to kiss her. Deep, soft and voluptuous, the kiss was a promise, a vow sworn in the pain of the past and a hope for a future.

“Trouble with a capital T,” he murmured, swallowing her moan before pulling away. He was breathing hard as he stepped away from her.

“I’ll call the guys.”

Dhrithi nodded, struggling to steady her own breathing. “I’ll be waiting.”

She watched Amay walk out of the bedroom, her gaze clinging to him till the end. For this man, she would always be waiting.

Chapter Thirty-Six

AMAY

“I was in the middle of a meeting dipshit,” Ishaan grumbled, heading straight for the kitchen. “What did Sangeetha Bai make today?”

“Palak paneer and roti.”

Ishaan froze midway to the kitchen and did an about turn. “Never mind. This seems like a good night to start intermittent fasting.”

Dhrithi laughed, surprising all of them. “You don’t like palak or paneer?”

“Both.” Ishaan grumbled.

“I can make you something.”

Ishaan eyed her with interest. “You can cook?”

“You can’t?” She smiled at him as she walked over to the kitchen. “What would you like?”

“What are my options?” He followed her like a lamb, the temptation of food always too much for Ishaan. Amay sighed and followed them.

Dhrithi riffled through the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a packet of pasta. “Does this work?”

“No.” Ishaan glared at the offending packet. “Ams, why the hell are you eating pasta? I thought we decided to eat clean.”

“I like pasta.” Amay grabbed the packet from Dhrithi’s hand and shoved it back in the cupboard before Ishaan could toss it in the trash. “It’s gluten free.”

“Is it?”

A devilish smirk lit his face as he reached behind Amay for the handle to the cupboard. Amay smacked his hand on the panel making sure it didn’t open. Ishaan tugged. Amay continued to hold it closed.

“Eat the damn paneer or go look for food in your house.”

“I can’t.” Ishaan sulked. “You ate all my corn chips.”

Before Amay could respond with something just as juvenile, the front door opened and Virat walked in. He took in the ridiculous scuffle in the kitchen with his usual calm, level expression.

“I brought corn chips,” he said, tossing a paper bag at Ishaan who let go of the door handle and caught it. Virat held up the bag in the other hand. “And Chinese.”

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