“Kamila, it’s a pleasure to meet you finally!” Anil put his hand out for Kamila to shake.

Kamila smiled, taking his hand. “Likewise! I’m so happy you could join us tonight! Can I pour you a hot cider?”

Anil flashed that million-dollar smile she’d seen in his video. In person, he looked younger than Rohan and a little less…stuffy. Easy good looks combined with dark eyes and full lips. And yes, not a strand of hair on his head. It was the sexy kind of bald, though. More Jason Statham than her Shiroz Uncle. Anil had a solid build—like he spent more time on free weights than the treadmill at the gym. Overall, he was captivating.

“I’d love a cider,” he said. “I was thrilled to get an invitation to one of your famous parties. Your reputation precedes you. This is an amazing space.” He looked around. “That print on the wall…that’s a Raqib Shaw, right?”

Kamila had, of course, removed all her pet photoshopped prints. But she’d hung this art print on the dining room wall even though she’d been worried it was too colorful and not very…professional. It was the only thing big enough for the space, though, other than the print of Darcy, Lizzy, Luke, and Leia photoshopped onto the original Star Wars poster. Kamila beamed and handed him a clear mug. “It is! I love his work. So detailed and layered. I think the colors really complement the neutrals in the room.”

“Well, I don’t know much about interior design, but clearly you do. I actually saw a Shaw exhibit in England a few months ago. His works were shown side by side with classical pieces. It was a fascinating juxtaposition. I bought the guidebook from the exhibit. I’ll bring it by to show you one day.”

“I would love that!”

“I hear they’re bringing in a famous neoclassical collection on loan at the Art Gallery of Ontario. We should go together.”

“That would be wonderful! I love art galleries!”

“Anil,” Rohan asked, “I’m surprised your wife hasn’t joined you in town. How is she?”

Kamila cringed. True, Rohan wasn’t exactly a social media kind of guy, but he should have known the wife wasn’t in the picture anymore.

Anil, seemingly unfazed, shook his head. “I hear she’s fine. Probably counting down the seconds to when she can finally sign those divorce papers. But you know what that’s like, right, old friend?”

Kamila squeezed her lips together. Awkward.

“I didn’t know you’d separated. Sorry to hear that,” Rohan said.

Anil chuckled. “We grew apart. No regrets. She’s still in D.C. Are those momos?”