Rico, Ashna’s boyfriend, who had handled the media for Yash’s campaign, was moving on to work on a state senator’s campaign. One of the incumbent California senators was done with his term limit and the primary for that seat was going to be a bloodbath in two years. Maybe Hari could work with him.

Everyone seemed to be moving along, doing things, changing the world. Vansh had never had any interest in the rat race. He’d shrugged off that life years ago. He’d chosen to join the Peace Corps instead of going to college. He’d decided to see the world, work on real problems instead of toeing the expected path like everyone around him.

He had a gift, a gift for making positive change, and he had always been true to that. The trick was keeping his heart open. Also his eyes and ears.

Hari threw a shifty look at his cake and poked it with a fork. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with eye contact.

Yash hadn’t yet announced jobs in the administration, but there wasn’t much for someone with Hari’s skill set to do on a governor’s staff, at least not until he was up for reelection. From what Vansh remembered from their interactions, Hari was painfully shy, to the point where it was usually impossible to get him to talk.

The guy probably just wanted Vansh to leave him alone.

“No plans,” Hari said, his voice loud in the way of people who weren’t used to talking to other people. Or people who’d had one too many mimosas.

Vansh looked at the six empty glasses.

“I like orange juice,” Hari said.

Ah.

Vansh sat down next to him. “Was this the first time you worked on a political campaign? Are you interested in working on another campaign? I can talk to Rico Silva.”

Hari’s hands started shaking and he put the fork down with a clang. His mouth was full of cake that he chewed and gulped furiously. “No, no. That’s all right!” He stood; the chair toppled over behind him. “I have to go.” He tried to back away but stumbled over the chair.

Jumping to the rescue, Vansh grabbed his arm and kept him from going down with the chair. Then, setting the chair straight, he pushed Hari back into it. The man was shaking.

“I was just making conversation,” Vansh said gently. “It’s just that you did such a great job on the campaign I thought it might be something you might like working on. We don’t have to talk about your plans.”

Hari hiccupped and picked up a red carnation from the red, white, and blue floral centerpiece and smelled it. Then went on smelling it with great focus.

Vansh raised his chin at the empty glasses. “All these, um, glasses of orange juice. Did you—”

Hari burst into tears.