“Because you didn’t marry Naveen.”
“Naveen . . . or the other twelve men she’s introduced me to over the last three years.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Wait.” Emi swiveled around. “Thirteen men you’ve rejected? My hero.”
Mira wrinkled her nose. “Twelve. One rejected me.”
“As I said, fascinating.” Emi turned back around to the phone. “I’m surprised Naveen knew so little about your skills, if you were evaluating him for matrimony. He was shocked your father had you playing poker as a kid.”
“I didn’t tell anyone about my dad or my family. Or . . . the stuff I used to do.” Mira placed her ripped napkin in her lap. “Did he ask any more questions?”
Emi shot her a look, but it was a gentle one. “No.”
Her gaze bounced around the suite. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve been broken up for a long time.” And she needed to forget the warmth and gentleness of that hug yesterday.
Nothing. It meant nothing.
Emi hummed. “Whether it’s with Naveen, or someone else, for future reference: if you have to hide the parts of you that make you you, it’s probably not going to work out.”
Hema Auntie would laugh herself silly at that pronouncement. Hiding everything was literally the woman’s main advice for finding a husband. “Playing poker doesn’t make me me.”
“Not poker necessarily. But that part of yourself—the part that savors the adrenaline rush and craves excitement—is a part of you. It’s good to feed that part every now and then.”
Emi had seemed exhilarated up in that suite, with danger facing her. She’d loved the theatrics of Mira winning that game and setting them free. Her old friend was enjoying even this, the unpredictability of them entering her life after years with a mysterious phone to crack into.
Aren’t you enjoying some of this? Deep down? “I do not like back-room poker games and shooting people and—”
“Whoa, whoa. Who said anything about shooting people?”
Oops. She grit her teeth, pushing back the memory of the hot gun in her hand. “It’s not important.”
Emi’s lips parted. “That sounds very important, but okay. You can not like shooting people, and still enjoy a game, Mira. Unlike poker, life isn’t all or nothing.”
Wasn’t it, though? “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And I think you’ve been chasing normal for so long you don’t even know what it means.”
Emi had been one of the few people who could get her worked up enough to shout, and it felt oddly good when her voice raised now. “Why do you even care?”
Emi bent back over the phone, and her hair slid down, hiding her face. “Because I care about you, dumbass.”
Mira drew back. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Despite it all, even though you’ve done some shitty things, I care about you. If we don’t talk for another ten years, and you wander back into my life, I’ll care about you. Sometimes you become friends with someone, and you care about them no matter what. Damn it.”
“I . . . I care about you, too.” She was so unaccustomed to talking about her deepest feelings, that the next words felt like they’d been ripped out of her. “You asked why I bailed you out? It’s because I missed you and I cared about you.”
“Oh. Cool.”
There was a long, awkward silence, broken only by Emi’s tapping on the keys of her laptop and the phone screen. They were both bad at talking about their feelings.
Emi cleared her throat. She sat back in her chair and crossed her ankle over her knee. “I’m done, by the way.”
For a second, Mira thought she meant done with her, but then she realized Emi was holding up her dad’s phone. She came to her feet, trying to focus on the real danger at their door. “What did you find?”
Emi’s eyes narrowed. “Something . . . interesting.”
Chapter Ten
Naveen wiped his face with a towel and sat in the armchair next to the nightstand in Emi’s bedroom, draping his wilted suit jacket across his knees. Her suite wasn’t quite as ostentatious as the room they’d come from, but it was still surprisingly large and luxurious, given the run-down vibes of the rest of this hotel.
The plain black landline telephone glowed under the light of the nightstand lamp like a holy artifact. He was thankful for the shower, and the chance to wash off the dried blood stains on his neck, but he was even more thankful for the most wonderful device of all. Finally. A way to check in on his family.
Naveen called his mom first. No answer.
His heartbeat accelerated. She often went to bed early and didn’t usually leave her phone on. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s fine. She’s okay.
He called his grandpa next, and let out a low sigh when he immediately picked up. “Hello?”
“Ajoba. Hi. How are you? Is everything okay?”
“What? Yes. Everything’s fine. Naveen? Why are you calling me from this Nevada number?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. How was he supposed to tell his grandfather about this? In a way that didn’t have Ravi immediately calling his buddies in law enforcement?
You can’t.
If he trusted any police officers right now, it would be the ones who knew his grandfather.
You trust them with your family’s lives?
“Naveen?”
He clenched his jaw. “I lost my phone. I’m using a . . . friend’s.”
“Ah. So I’m assuming the date is going well, if you’re using your friend’s phone.”
Naveen mentally slapped himself. Fuck. The fictional date. His little white lie from hours ago. “Yeah. About that, actually.”
“No escape rooms, right?”
Naveen nearly laughed. He glanced around the hotel room. “Perhaps a small one.”
Ajoba groaned. “Naveen. You are trying to chase her off, already, eh?”
He knew to expect good-natured ribbing about his silly hobby, but it still stung, as it always did. “An escape room is a perfect first date activity, I’ll have you know,” he said lightly. “You’re forced to work together as a team.”
“I suppose being a team is a good way to start something,” Ravi allowed. “Very important skill. Take the girl out for a drink, son, like a normal young man.”
“Don’t worry, we also got dinner.” So to speak. “And played poker.”
“Oh, she plays poker?” His grandfather’s tone changed. The man played a weekly game with his friends, or he did when he was feeling up to it these days. “She good?”
“Really good. She won with a seven and a two.” His pleasure in her playing couldn’t be repressed. He’d always thought Mira’s competency was one of the sexiest things about her, and it had been on full display tonight. Not that he’d been thinking about her sexiness.
His grandfather gave a rough laugh. “That is good. I like her already.”
Ravi would have liked Mira, if they’d had a chance to meet before she ended their relationship.
That’s right. Remember how she ended things.
“You sound like you’re having fun.”