“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say.
“Thanks, but he was a pretty distant relation. I knew him, because everyone knows everyone here, but I don’t know if I’d be able to tell you exactly how we were related. Third cousin, I think? But really, he was just like another uncle.”
He ushers us back through the office, grabs a few things, then gestures for us to exit first. “Anyway, I think I know the car you mean. It came in yesterday?” he asks me.
“Yes, it—”
“They told us it needs a part that wasn’t in stock,” Jacob says,moving a hair closer to me. “So I just wanted to see if it had come in, or if there was any kind of estimate on when it would be available.”
I frown, glancing up at Jacob, surprised to find a similar frown on his face. I don’t know whyhe’supset. He’s the one who interrupted me.
“Sorry—if that’s what they told you last night, I doubt anything’s changed since then. It takes a couple days for those kinds of shipments to come through.” The man locks up the shop, and the wind picks up in the street, blowing his scent our way, something like pine mixed with the faintest hint of gasoline.
“But I’ll try to check on it for you,” he continues. He extends a hand in my direction. “Callum,” he says. “Guess I’ll be seeing you later? At the service?”
“Neelu,” I say. “And yes. You’ll see us there.”
He throws a final assessing look over at Jacob—who’s still wearing a sour, pinched expression—before saying goodbye and parting ways with us.
—
We end up barely having time to pick up takeaway for my father, but we still manage to order all his favorites. That is,Jacoborders all his favorites. I don’t really know what my father’s favorite foods are.
Some sharp emotion scrapes the back of my throat, as if I swallowed something with a pointed edge, but I push it down, adding an order of kheer when Jacob’s done listing dishes.
“Kheer,” the man at the counter repeats, penciling it on the notepad in front of him, and Jacob turns my way.
His earlier frown is gone, something gentle blossoming around his mouth instead.
“Their kheer is the kind with rice,” Jacob tells me when we walk back to the inn. “Not vermicelli. I got a peek when they were packing it up.”
“Is that how you make it?” I ask. “With vermicelli?”
He moves the plastic bag of takeout from one hand to the other. “Yes.” He shifts, and I can feel his eyes on the side of my face, like I’ve walked into a patch of sunshine, my skin turning warm. “Maybe I’ll get to make it for you sometime,” he says. “And you’ll see for yourself.”
“I don’t usually like the kind with vermicelli,” I say, keeping my tone light. “It’s a texture thing. I’m not super into the noodles.”
“Well,” he says, his voice pitched lower. “You’ve never tastedmypayasam.”
Is he flirting with me?My skin grows even warmer.
He hasn’t spoken to me like this since that night we were strangers.
But I don’t know what it means to him, if anything. Is he trying to return to that? To what we discussed before? Something meaningless and casual and temporary?
A car honks to our right, and even though we’re a good distance away, Jacob’s hand comes to my lower back, his fingers warm through the fabric of my dress.
And I lean into it, the feel of him, walking closer until the rough wool of his kilt brushes against my legs.
I remember how we undressed each other that night. The way his hands framed my face when he kissed me; the way his eyes lit when he discovered what made me moan; the way he buried his face in the curve of my neck, holding me close as he came apart.
His breath hitches, and for a moment I don’t know if the sound is from the past or present. A memory, or something happening in real time.
But before I can decipher it, he’s removed his hand, and there’s a gap now, a cool burst of wind traveling in the space between us.
“Your dad’s calling,” Jacob says, his hand wrestling in his pocket, pulling out his vibrating phone. He answers, turning it on speaker,and the sound of my dad’s voice shakes me back into myself, clearing out any hazy thoughts.
Jacob tells my dad that we’re out and have to be somewhere soon, but we’re stopping by the inn to bring lunch back for him. I’m a little alarmed at my dad’s response. He sounds listless, tired, and uninterested. He doesn’t even ask where Jacob and I are going. After we hang up, I cast a worried glance at Jacob.
