No, that wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t.
Prem pulled into a parking lot underneath a high-rise. She watched as his palms slid over the soft dimpled steering wheel.
“One day, after my clinic is set up, I plan on moving to the suburbs.”
“Oh yeah? You strike me as a city guy.”
Prem rolled his eyes before sliding into a numbered spot and shutting off the car. “I grew up in a neighborhood with yards and picket fences in California. I want the same when I’m done with my community center. Come on.”
They got out of the car and walked to a bank of elevators across from the lot. He motioned for her to enter the elevator first, then scanned a tiny key fob against a sensor.
“I just realized something,” Kareena said, praying that the nerves would stay at bay. “This is the first time I’m going to see your place. Did you ever think a month ago that this is where we’d be?”
“A month ago, I was thinking of ways to hide your body,” he said. “But I like this result a lot better.”
The way he looked at her had her blushing. And then, the elevator doors opened and Prem motioned for her to step out before he followed. “Last door at the end of the hall,” he said. They walked the short distance, a foot between them, to a black door with brass fixtures. He keyed in.
“Welcome to my home,” he said, and the door swung open. She slipped past him, brushing against his chest and trying to focus on his apartment instead of his ridiculous body.
When he flipped on the lights, Kareena’s jaw dropped. Exposed ductwork in the ceiling. A brick wall to the left. Modern appliances in the kitchen. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a tiny balcony. He had a large living space, with what looked like a soft leather sectional facing a massive flat-screen.
Oh my god.
“This is what I want to do with the house,” she blurted out. “I always thought the open kitchen and living space we had would be perfect for this. All we have to do is take down some more walls, freshen the paint, and put in modern furniture.” She could see it crystal clear, and it surprised her that she and Prem shared the same vision for comfort.
Prem toed off his shoes near a discreetly positioned closet, and she quickly followed suit. “Between my parents helping me out, and scholarships to keep student loans down, I was able to afford this place by the skin of my teeth,” he said behind her as she crossed to the windows. “I want to move into a house, but it makes sense to be here right now until my community center is established.”
“Don’t apologize for what you have,” Kareena replied. She thought about her car, the house, both symbols of so much more than money. “You should never be ashamed of the sacrifices our parents made for us, and the work you’ve done on top of that.”
“I don’t know why, but I always feel the need to apologize. My father used to tell me how if he didn’t come over to the States for medical school, then we would’ve never left Delhi. He has that whole ‘fifty dollars in his pocket’ story that I always think about when I spend my cash on big expenses. Are your stories the same as mine?”
“My father doesn’t like to talk about it a lot,” Kareena said. “But I know that despite the little cash they had at first, they celebrated their love every day. And that’s what makes what they had so much more special.”
She enjoyed the feel of bare feet on his plush area rugs and leaned against the glass pane of the sliding door. The apartment was so high above the noise on the streets, it brought her a sense of peace she’d been chasing for so long she forgot what it even felt like. Bobbi was on a second floor, and Veera was a little higher up. Neither of their places felt like this.
She heard Prem moving around the apartment behind her while she watched the city lights.
“Here,” he said a moment later.
He approached her with two highball whiskey glasses pinched together with his fingertips in one hand, and a bottle in the other.
“I don’t know. Remember the first time I drank with you?”
“We’re not going overboard this time.”
Kareena grabbed the glasses so that he could pour a little whiskey in each. He then set the bottle down and toasted her, his body close to hers. “The first is for courage.”
She tossed it back. The warm liquid burned as it slid down her throat. She took the bottle from the table, then poured another half inch into both their glasses. “The second is for honesty.”
They drank in unison, clearing their throats.