“How often do you take this streetcar?” I ask.
“I’ve done it a few times. It’s so much better than being in an underground tunnel.”
“You go to your uncle’s restaurant a lot?”
He nods. “Rajit is my favorite uncle. And he always feeds me for free. As a poor student, I appreciate that.”
“Are you worried about what your uncle will think of me?”
“I don’t really care what my family thinks of you. I like you. And what others think isn’t going to change that.”
I smile. That was a good answer. I lean over and kiss his cheek, and he blushes.
“Anyway,” Miles says. “I know Rajit is going toloveyou. Seriously. He’s not strict or…parental.”
“Parental meaningjudgmental, right?”
He nods. “He’s my dad’s youngest brother, and he always felt more like an older cousin than an uncle. He won’t even let me call him uncle.”
I nod. I’m still nervous though. Because I like Miles so much more than I’ve liked anyone else in a long time, and I don’t want this to fizzle away like all my past relationships.
“This is a nice ride,” I say. My head is on his shoulder so I can’t see his expression, but he squeezes my hand. “You were right—you’re an excellent date planner.”
When we finally get to Dundas West station, it’s a ten-minute walk to his uncle’s restaurant. The restaurant is called Juna, and it’s pretty new, with a modern design. It’s a far cry from the old Indian street-food places on Gerrard. After we sit, a Brown man comes toward us with a huge smile. This must be Rajit. He’s younger than I expected—he doesn’t look much older than Miles.
“Hey, Miles, my bro! Who’s yourfriend?” He says the word “friend” with a little teasing lilt. I already like the guy.
After Miles introduces me to his Rajit Uncle (who also insists I drop the uncle bit because it makes him feel old), Rajit hands us some menus and tells us to order whatever we want. He offers mango lassis to start, which I can’t say no to. I smile at Miles when his uncle leaves to get our drinks.
“I like your uncle. He’s like… anextrovertedyou.”
Miles laughs at that. “What do you want to eat?” I look at the menu. It’s standard Indian street food: samosas, pakoras, chaats, and, of course, the reason we’re here, pani puri.
Miles’s uncle sits with us after we order a bunch of different things to split. I ask him how long he’s had the restaurant.
“Two years. It’s been my dreamforever. I’m in a partnership with my two closest friends in the industry, and we’re working our asses off, but also having so much fun. I started working in Indian kitchens when I was fifteen. I’m still pinching myself that I have my own place.”
“Kitchens here in Toronto?”
Rajit shakes his head. “No, in Florida. That’s where Miles’s dad’s family is from.” Rajit is chattier than Miles, so I learn more about Miles from hearing his uncle’s history. Apparently, Miles’s father’s family originally came from India and settled in Florida. Miles’s father worked at Disney World as a teen and met Miles’s mother when her family was there on vacation, which… talk about an epic meet-cute. The two kept in touch, fell in love, and he ran away to Canada to marry her. Miles’s father’s parents pretty much disowned his father for marrying a Muslim. Rajit said he himself took the first opportunity to leave Florida, too. He followed his brother to Toronto, and got a job in a kitchen here as soon as he finished high school.
“You don’t have a relationship with your grandparents at all?” I ask Miles. That’s sad.
He shrugs. “They did eventually accept my mother, but we’ve never been close. They’ve called me a few times since my parents split, but that’s only because they want to complain about my mother to me.”
“Does your dad talk to them now?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Miles says.
I reach over and hold his hand. Rajit looks at our connected hands and smiles. “My parents—and Miles’s father, too—have a lot ofissues. But what do I always say, Miles? Found family iswaybetter than blood. People who support you unconditionally because theywantto, not because of some family bond, those are your real family. Like my business partners… They’re are good as gold to me, and I’ve known them for less than a decade.”
Miles raises a brow at his uncle. “You’re saying this as myliteralblood uncle.”
Rajit laughs. “True, but you know Ichoseyou. Even if we’re related.”
I must look confused, so Miles explains. “Rajit says he chose Toronto when he left Florida because he wanted to be close to his onlycoolnephew.”
I wonder how much of that was because he knew Miles’s parents weren’t the best, so he wanted Miles to have some decent family nearby. I smile. I really like this guy.
