Actually running into him meant he couldn’t change course to avoid him even though he really didn’t have time to stay and talk to anyone.

“You seem in a hurry, son,” HRH said, and they both straightened with the kind of awkwardness befitting a grown son running into a father full tilt. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.” He gave a gruff laugh. “Your mother assured me you were living here. But I was starting to doubt her.”

Vansh studied him for a second, not sure how to respond, then realized he was joking and returned a dutiful laugh. “Did you need something? For Yash’s transition?” Vansh had checked in with Yash a few days ago, and all had seemed well.

That made HRH’s generally stiff demeanor stiffen some more. “Not at all, no. Yash is quite self-sufficient, as you well know.” Pride shone in his eyes.

HRH and Ma had been in Sacramento every chance they got since the transition, making sure Yash had everything he needed. Suddenly HRH seemed to notice that Vansh was still there. “Not that your help during the election wasn’t vital. Extremely vital. Extremely.”

“Thanks.”

“Umm. Son, I . . . did you want to come back in and grab a coffee or something?”

“Does someone else need something?” Vansh’s mind ran over all his sisters. He’d not been speaking to them as much as he usually did. But they all seemed fine, if a little nosier than normal. “You can text me if you need something.” He resisted the urge to look at his wrist to indicate that he was in a hurry, since he didn’t wear a watch.

“No. I just haven’t seen you in a while.”

Well, he’d been right here. “I wish I could. But I’m late for a meeting.”

His father stepped back, in the most HRH way ever. “Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you. Things going well with . . . um . . . with . . .”

“Jiggy Mehta. Yes, everything’s great. I really have to go.” Vansh took off down the hall to the front door. Why had he never noticed how needlessly long that walk was?

“Vansh,” HRH called behind him, and Vansh turned.

“Yes?”

“I see that . . . that you’re working really hard. Um. I just . . . I’m proud of you too.” He scratched a spot on his cheek. “Not too . . . I meant you, not you too . . . I’m proud of you.”

“I know what you meant. Thanks, Dad.” With that he made his way to Ma’s old car, which he always used while he was home. He almost turned around again and asked what HRH was proud of exactly. It wasn’t like he knew what Vansh was up to.

I’m proud of you too. Classic HRH.

Vansh was laughing when he drove out of the Anchorage gates. Because it was funny, actually. Hilarious.