“But I didn’t want to get into all this today. More than anything, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for everything,” Natasha says. “I know the way I reacted to the proposal was hurtful. And instead of getting so freaked out by you asking, I should have just told you I’m nowhere near ready to get married. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you.”

Natasha fidgets with the cardboard sleeve on Karan’s cup, which reads Karen in black Sharpie. When they were in elementary school, Karan would get so annoyed that people thought his name was Karen, but by ninth grade, he tried to find the humor in it. It’s my white-person name, he’d say.

“You never reached out to me after that.” Karan presses his lips together, which enhances the dimple in his chin.

“I know. I’ve wanted to but I needed to think,” Natasha says. “And then, when I thought about calling, it felt unfair to bother you when you were clearly so upset. I thought a little space would help.”

“Help what? Help me forget that you rejected me?” Even though Karan’s cheeks are flushed, his voice is still soft. He would never get visibly pissed in a Starbucks. He and Anita Auntie are alike that way, careful to maintain public decorum no matter what, while Natasha’s gotten mad at Mom in all types of places.

“No, I’m not saying that.” She starts tearing the cardboard and relishes the feel of each piece in her hands. Then, because she’s feeling bold, impatient, or both, she blurts, “I want to get back together.”

“What?” Karan clutches the table. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious.”

“Are you asking this just so there’s something stable in your life?”

“What? No, of course not! I’ve known you since I was a baby.” Her legs start to shake as she says, “And I’ve always seen us growing up together. You’re my family.”

For a second, Karan’s face looks brighter. Happier. But then he shifts his hand away from hers. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because,” Karan says.

“Because what?” She almost expects him to say Because I said so, the way he did when they were younger and she’d ask for explanations for the random facts he’d tell her.

“It’s just not a good idea.”

“Why? Because you went on a date with someone else?”

His eyes widen with surprise.

“I saw you at the market weeks ago, when I was getting ready to leave brunch. She seemed nice, you know, if you like those pretty, skinny, stylish, happy types.” Natasha smiles.

“Oh,” Karan says. “You mean Anisha.”

She waits for him to tell her that Anisha’s a long-lost cousin Natasha somehow never met.