Adil grunted. “In any case, she made her disgusting food and took it to eat in her room even though I told her we’d eat at the table.”
Dev frowned. Luna’s most negative moods were characterized by depression or withdrawal, rarely open defiance. She’d been sweet lately, too, growing more comfortable expressing herself with both of her elders.
“Shestompedaway from me.” Adil clicked his tongue. “If I had done the same to my uncle, I would have been thrashed.”
Dev’s lips twitched, despite the seriousness of the situation. Adil’s blustering was just that, blustering. The man had fallen in love with his grandniece at first sight. The only person less likely to raise their hand to Luna was Dev.
He checked his watch. He’d gotten home later than he’d hoped. In Mumbai, he had the clout to leave a party whenever he wanted, but he couldn’t insult the executives here. “I’ll check in on her. You get some rest.”
Adil gestured to the television. “I have to finish my show first, but good night.”
His uncle would be asleep three minutes after Dev left. “Yes, good night.”
He paused outside his niece’s room, but all he could hear was the humidifier running. He cracked the door. The light glowing under the blanket winked out. He opened the door wider. There was plenty of light in the room from the moon streaming in and the nightlight he’d installed near the door for him to see.
“Luna,” he whispered. “I see you’re awake. Can I please speak with you?”
The cover shifted, and out popped a curly dark head. Luna’s hair had been much longer, but right before they’d moved, he’d come home to find her standing in the bathroom, black strands all around her feet, scissors in her hand, and a blank expression on her small face. He’d hidden his concern by helping her clean up the bathroom and trim parts of the back she hadn’t been able to reach. Once he’d been alone, he’d reached for one of the many books he’d bought on children and grief to assure himself that he hadn’t somehow screwed something up.
Luna plopped her phone on the bed and leaned against the headboard. She looked much younger than thirteen, with her tiny heart-shaped face and short bob. She muttered something in Spanish. One thing his brother had done was engage good tutors for Luna. She spoke five languagesfairly fluently and could slip in and out of them with ease.
She chose Spanish and French when she wanted to keep something from him. Joke was on her, however. He’d downloaded an app for that.
Knockwas the only word he could make out, but that was enough. He took a step in. “I should have knocked. I’m sorry.”
Even after a year, she still looked bemused when he agreed with her or treated her as an adult, which made him wonder exactly how his brother had treated his daughter. Probably with the same casual distracted affection Rohan had given to most things that weren’t acting or women or drugs.
Perhaps if Dev had been around more, had paid attention to her before his brother had died a year ago, he would know more about how Luna’d been raised. A stab of guilt ran through him, a feeling he was so familiar with, it was almost second nature now.
She switched to English. “Thank you.” Her manner was stiff and formal.
Internally, he heaved a tired sigh. He hadn’t thought getting sudden guardianship of his niece after her father’s death left her an orphan would be easy, but he’d been lulled into a false sense of calm over the last month or so.
“You know the rules, though. No phone this late.” Monitoring and enforcing cell phone usage was something he did reluctantly. He hated playing the disciplinarian, but he also didn’t want his ward to have unlimited screen time. All the experts seemed to agree that wasn’t good for developing brains.
“Sorry. The book got good.”
He tossed the screen time rule out the window. He couldn’t see how limiting reading could ever be good. “What are you reading?”
“Stephen King.”
“At night?” He wouldn’t police age appropriateness in reading either, though he did wonder if scary tales at night were good for her.
“It’s the best time to read it. Did you just get home?”
“Yes.” He came to sit on the edge of the bed. “What did you do tonight?” He kept his tone mild and not accusatory.
A muscle ticked in her jaw. That tick had made Vivek Dixit famous back in the golden screen days. “Uncle’s mad at me, I guess.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because we had a fight about dinner.”
Dev nodded. “I understand you had a disagreement over something called a Bagel Bites.”
“It’s pizza on a bagel.”
“That does sound...” American. “Intriguing. But perhaps not as healthy as a home-cooked meal.”
