“That’s fair,” Ajay said. A knot in his chest tightened. He wanted to deny her this one thing because it meant that she didn’t trust him, but he didn’t blame her. Her husband and friend, someone she’d known for years, had taken advantage of her. It would take time before she could see that he wasn’t like Robert. Ajay shot her an easy grin. “Sometimes I’m in New Jersey, so my schedule is also a bit rigid. Tonight?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Kaka, my housekeeper, comes back from India early in the morning. I want to be there to welcome him home.”

Kaka. Her family. He had to admire her loyalty to the people she prioritized in her life. Hopefully he’d be added to that list.

They shifted gears to talk about work, their shared charity passions, and Raj’s interest in Gen One. They were neck deep in market discussions by the time Ajay pulled into a small private parking lot in Astoria. He slipped the lot owner a hundred-dollar bill, then linked his fingers with Raj’s as they strolled toward the restaurant.

“You know, Hem took Mina to a place down here for their first date.”

Raj hummed. “Mina told me. Dosa Hut. But you said we’re eating chole, not dosas.”

“I did. Do you like chole?”

“Yes, but I have a Punjabi housekeeper who makes the best. This is going to have to be pretty spectacular.”

He slowed in front of a small shop with counter service. “This will not disappoint. I came out to Queens almost every weekend when I was in college just to eat with my friends.”

They wove through tables packed with patrons until they reached the counter that had one old register, packets of supari—a mix of fennel seeds and sugar crystals—and a large tip jar.

“We’ll take two orders of bature chole, Uncle,” Ajay said in Punjabi. He squeezed Raj’s hand. “Do you want a lassi or cha?”

“Garam cha.”

After paying, they took their order number in the form of a plastic card and sat near the front window against the wall. Ajay stretched his long legs out so that his knees bracketed hers before he leaned across the table.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“This place smells like my mom’s kitchen—” Her face went blank and Ajay could see her putting her mask back on. Raj’s smooth, flawless composure reflected back at him. “We should be making use of the time. What do you want to know about RKH?”

“Don’t do that, Rajneet.”

“Don’t do what, darling?”