Why hadn’t she just told China the truth? Rico’s grown-up bearded jaw and man bun did a slow spin around her head, and a groan rose deep inside her. Then she thought about having to call Shobi and backtrack and the groan threatened to turn into a wail. This entire thing about being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea was every bit as impossible as it sounded on paper. Only, the devil was green-and-golden-eyed and the sea was an ocean of maternal disappointment.

Shobi had been persistent since their lovely last call. Just today she’d called five times with her usual Shoban Gaikwad Raje disregard for little things, like what others wanted. The fact that Ashna was not answering her calls was just making her push harder. Or maybe Shobi had seen the footage of Ashna maiming one of the world’s most popular athletes. If she hadn’t watched the video yet, that would make her the only human with an internet connection who hadn’t.

The video had been viewed over five million times. That was five million people who’d seen her, a professional chef, drop a surgical-grade knife at the sight of a man every major magazine had declared the sexiest man alive.

And she had landed him in the hospital.

Or he had landed himself there while trying to keep her toes from being severed.

He was a hero.

She was a wreck.

Again.

“Plus, I don’t have a celebrity anymore. I broke mine, remember?”

China laughed. “You did not break him. He’s fine. The doctors drained his knee and he’s as good as new.”

Ashna ignored the relief that loosened the tightness in her chest at hearing he was fine and tried again. “China, I’m not—”

“Oh!” China cut her off as though she’d just had the greatest epiphany. “Now everything makes perfect sense!”

No, nothing made sense. Or at least none of this should make sense to China.

China lived in the apartment above the yoga studio next door to Curried Dreams. The yoga studio had been in China’s family for over a hundred years. Before anyone in America had any idea what yoga or yoga pants were, as her sister India, who now ran the studio, loved to say.

After Ashna had moved to California, China, India, and their brother Siddhartha were the only children she had been friends with aside from her cousins. But of course, like her family, they hadn’t known about her and Rico.

She had never breathed a word about him to anyone.

Her two secrets in high school. Soccer and Rico.

“What makes perfect sense?” Ashna asked, working hard to sound nonchalant.