He scoffed. “Why? Because you’veaccidentallyfallen in love before?”
A hurt expression briefly flashed across Meghna’s face. Then she lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Yes,” she said.
Huh. He wondered who she had been in love with. And why it hadn’t worked out. Karthik waited for her to elaborate but was met with only silence.
“Well, I haven’t,” he finally said. They looked at each other for a few moments and the silence resumed.
“Well,” she said. “It’s probably time for us to head back.”
He glanced at his watch. “I don’t think so. They usually come get us when it’s time.”
Meghna let out a loud sigh. “What else do we really have to talk about? You don’t want to ever get married. I do. Besides, isn’t this what usually happens next?” She extended her arm for a handshake and gave him a tight, forced smile. “It was nice meeting you.”
Karthik automatically reached out to shake her hand, but he felt unsteady. Like he’d been walking down a flight of stairs and accidentally missed a step. His mind whirred, trying to come up with something to say. She started to walk past him.
“Wait,” he said, putting a hand on her arm. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What was wrong with the pani puri?”
Her eyebrows knit in confusion.
“The pani puri?” he asked again. “The ones you warned me not toeat?”
“Oh,” she said. “Nothing. There just weren’t that many left and I wanted to have them later.”
“They’re my favorite,” he said. It was true, but he didn’t know why he had felt the need to tell her that.
“Mine too,” she said coolly. She shook his hand off her arm and continued walking to the living room, leaving him to follow her.
—
Later, after he’d said his goodbyes and stepped out into the oppressive Texas heat, he wondered if she was sitting inside, eating the pani puri now. He shook the thought from his mind and climbed into the rental car, trying to avoid the eager glances from his mother. She was wearing the same nervous-but-hopeful expression she wore after every one of these meetings. He hated that look. He hated letting her down. Butno matter what, when she asked what he thought, he would respond, like he always did, “I’m sorry, Amma. I don’t think it’ll work out.”
So, it shocked the hell out of him when she asked the question this time and he heard himself say, “I need some time to think about it.” He had barely even processed his own words when his mother’s arms came around him, wrapping him in a hug.
“That’s good,” she said excitedly. “That’s all I wanted.” She continued, saying she would call Meghna’s mother and exchange phone numbers, so he could call Meghna whenever he wanted.Ifhe wanted, she quickly amended. There was no pressure, she said. But he barely heard any of that. His mind was stuck in a constant refrain:What did I just do?
“So, the guy was a bust, huh,” Ankita said, her voice sounding a bit muffled as it came through Meghna’s car speakers.
“Yeah. I mean, the whole thing was weird. He was so…I don’t know. Uptight? And kind of rude? Or maybe just blunt? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
Meghna had been thinking it over all day and she wasn’t able to make up her mind. Wasn’t able to make sense of him. All she knew was that after a long day of work, after-school rehearsals, and an internal replaying of everything Karthik had said to her, she was mentally exhausted. She’d called Ankita the second she got into her car, needing to get an unbiased opinion and to vent to her friend.
“Please,” Ankita said. “You’re always giving people the benefit of the doubt. If you think he was rude, he was rude.”
She made a good point. “Fine.Maybe. Maybe he was rude,” Meghna said as she changed lanes toward the exit that would take her home. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He was very clear that he never wants to get married.”
Her friend groaned. “What a waste of time. Like you need to go through your parents to find another terrified-of-marriage, commitment-phobic wastrel.”
“Wastrel?”
“I’ve been reading a lot of regency romance. Was he cute at least?”
Hot,Meghna thought.He was hot. He’d been tall, with a sharp jaw and a neatly trimmed beard. His hair had seemed to naturally fall perfectly, as if not a single hair dared to be out of place. He’d been solemn, but she’d thought his demeanor and unintended insults were just nerves at the beginning. She had found it endearing. Until the very end.
Her phone rang with an incoming call. Adrenaline spiked through her when Seth’s name flashed across the screen. “Ankita, I’m sorry, I’m getting another call. I promise I’ll call you right back.” She quickly hung up and answered.
“Meg! How are you?” The warmth in Seth’s voice immediately lifted her spirits. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been wanting to talk to him.
“Good! But first, I have to know how your pitch went!” After years of trying to break out as a songwriter in Nashville, Seth had finally made a name for himself in the country-pop crossover scene. Just this week, a major recording artist—who happened to be an ex-boybander that Meghnamayhave had a poster of in her childhood bedroom—had requested a meeting with Seth, wanting to hear any ideas he might have for his new album.
