“You’re not going to have any?”
“I had some before you woke up. You never told me how you liked them, so I had to make an educated guess.”
Kareena stared at her fork like it was a snake.
“So?” Prem prompted. He walked over to the front door and slipped into his sneakers. “How are they?”
She tried to smile at him, even as her stomach knotted, and her head pounded in rhythm with her heart. She forked a tiny piece at the edge of her plate and slipped it in her mouth.
Butter. Just a little wet. Scrambled. With . . . chaat masala?
She dropped her fork with a clatter. “How did you know to put chaat masala on my eggs?” she blurted out.
Prem snorted. “Seriously? We had a food eating competition. Half the time you mumble to yourself over your plate. You season everything you eat, and you think I wouldn’t notice?”
Kareena nodded. She had no words. Prem Verma, Dr. Dil, had just produced the perfect scrambled eggs.
“They’re . . . great,” she said.
“Awesome.” Prem strode to her side, grabbed her chin, and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth. “If you want to stay, feel free to hang out until I get back. I don’t know when that’ll be, but definitely by dinner.”
“I have to work,” she said. “This week, I have a client case that I’m working on.”
“Damn, and I’m in back-to-back procedures. I have to pick up a weekend shift, then prep for my show.” He pressed another quick kiss to her mouth. “Then next weekend. You want to get away with me?”
“Get away? Like where?”
“I don’t know. I’m not on call, and they’re doing a rerun of one of my old episodes because there is supposed to be a special broadcast conflicting with the time slot. We can go to the beach if you want?”
“You mean the shore,” Kareena replied. “You’re in Jersey. It’s the shore.”
Prem kissed her again, this time longer, and with a small lick of his tongue. “Fine. The shore. Come with me.”
“I’m helping with my sister’s engagement party,” she said.
“Fuck it.”
These bubble moments with him were . . . amazing. She felt like she didn’t have to worry so much when it was just the two of them. “Fine,” she said before she could change her mind. “Let’s do it.”
“Great. Front door code is my birthday. Let yourself out whenever.” He started walking backward, juggling his bag, files, coffee mug, and keys. “We need to talk, but I have to go. I’ll text you later.”
Kareena nodded and waited for him to close the door behind him before she picked up her fork again. She’d just agreed to go with him on vacation to a place that would be especially hard for her to leave.
Her mind turned back to focusing on the eggs. The last time anyone made her eggs with chaat masala was when her mother was still alive. It was so special. Those Sunday morning breakfasts with eggs, and hot milk with just enough tea in it to make her feel special.
Kareena took another bite, and then a third.
Prem took her out on the most fun dates she’d ever been on. She’d never had mind-blowing sex the way she’d experienced with him. And most importantly, he listened to her. She could sleep when she was with him, and he was constantly feeding her.
She took her time finishing the eggs, and when her plate was clean she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
She’d been prepared for almost every scenario: losing her mother’s house, living alone in some rental property, and having to sell her car. Or worse, settling for someone she didn’t love at all.
The one thing that Kareena hadn’t prepared herself for was falling in love with a man who could never love her back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Prem
Prem: Mom, don’t freak out, but I met someone.
Mom: Oh my goodness, really?? My beta, I’m so proud!!
Mom: ::religious meme::
Mom: ::religious meme::
Mom: ::party meme::
Prem: It’s Kareena. The woman who interrupted my show.
Prem: . . . Mom?
Prem: Mom, did your phone die?
Mom: No, but you killed a part of my heart. That woman?? The woman who practically ruined your reputation?? Why her?
Prem: Would you rather I stop talking to her and go back to being single?
Mom: Is she from a good family at least?
Prem: Mom.
Mom: Whatever, you’re thirty-five, she’ll do.
Prem: MOM. Can you at least PRETEND not to be a mess?
Mom: What’s the fun in that?