She grabbed a couple of plates—bright yellow hand-painted stoneware. Naina Kohli of the gray and beige couture loved bright colors.

“Do you want me to take the food out of the bag?” he asked.

“Thanks.”

For a few moments the olfactory overload was almost too much to bear. There were ten plastic and foil containers with all varieties of kababs. She’d even cut salads.

“All of this looks terribly healthy.” Not at all the heavy food Vansh associated with Punjabi cuisine.

Naina smiled. He’d never met anyone who could hide quite so much anger and heartbreak in a smile. “It’s a stereotype. Sure, Punjabis love their makhan and malai, but they can eat healthy too. Especially when they’re trying to get their women to stay slim and trim.”

She threw a look at the food and then at herself.

“I have no idea what that look is supposed to mean.”

“You’re very sweet, Vansh.” This time her smile was genuine and touched, as though he’d melted her heart a little bit. He’d take it, even though he had no idea why it was being bestowed. “I’ve gained a little weight since the breakup, and Mummy thinks it’s her job to help me get back ‘into shape.’”

What was she talking about? “You’re literally the hottest woman I’ve ever met.”

She laughed. “It’s good to know that horniness makes you blind.”

That was the most ridiculous of all her accusations, but he couldn’t argue about how much she turned him on. Before he could say more, she started popping the food in the microwave. Clearly, she didn’t want to take that conversation any further. She was done with it.

“Mummy wasn’t just dropping off the food. She was also dropping off pictures of ‘boys.’”

“Boys?” He took the heated food to the breakfast bar. “Let me see.” He searched the room and found an envelope.

They both lunged for it together. He reached it first, and her arms wrapped around him trying to pry it from his hands.

“Vansh!” She sounded desperately embarrassed even as she laughed. “Why do you want to see?”

Having her laugh in his arms was a sensation that scrambled his brain, and he let the envelope go. Sitting in a closet by himself had been enough to calm him down, but before that he’d almost spent in his jeans for the second time with her.

“Maybe I can help you choose.”

“I should let you. So you can lose your appetite too and not finish all my food.” She sat down on one of the two bar stools and piled kababs on their plates. “Do you think she brought food and the pictures together knowing I’d lose my appetite? ‘New weight-loss idea!’” she said in her Chandni Auntie voice.