Jaya regarded him in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much at once,” she said before she could stop herself. “You must feel rather strongly about it.” That had been a veritable speech for Grey Emerson. Had he ever said so many words, apart from when he was talking to Isha about robotics?

He grunted and looked away.

“But anyway, there’s nothing wrong with following our parents, is there?” Jaya said, trying to get him to open up once more. She shouldn’t have called attention to his verbosity at all. “I think my parents’ footsteps are respectable ones to want to follow.”

“Yes, but…”

Jaya waited.

“Don’t you ever feel the need to do something different with your life than what they expect?” His voice was so low it rumbled inside her chest.

“Different?” Jaya laughed at the very idea. “ ‘Different’ is for artists and celebrities’ kids. I’ve always known, since I was a small child, that it’d be up to me to carry on the family legacy. I’ve known I needed to go to an Ivy League university, major in business or finance, and return back home to run Appa’s estate. Simple.”

Grey raised an eyebrow. “Simple? More like incredibly boring.”

Jaya straightened her spine, her eyes drilling into his. “Boring? Did you really just call my life boring?”

Grey looked at her for a moment, as if he were weighing whether he wanted to say what he was really thinking. “I’m calling your life plan boring,” he said finally. “That’s an important distinction. Don’t you find it… stifling to have your entire life mapped out according to someone else’s plan? Don’t you want to define for yourself who you are rather than just taking someone else’s word for granted?” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Don’t you have a mind of your own, or do you believe everything your father tells you?” He spat the last question out rapidly at her, his words like bullets from a machine gun. But somehow she got the idea he wasn’t just talking to her. Well, regardless of whomever he intended that message for, he was being remarkably, flagrantly rude. Then again, what else could be expected from an Emerson?

Jaya’s temper rose like water that was dangerously close to spilling over a dam. She tried channeling Amma and counting backward from one hundred by sevens, but she was barely at ninety-three when she found herself snapping as the dam burst, “My father is a well-respected, honorable member of society, unlike some other people’s!”

There was a dangerous silence as they both glared at each other. Then, very carefully, like his own temper was only hanging on by a thread, Grey asked in a low voice, “What do you mean by that?”