her friend, but she can make her own decisions when it comes to men.”
Samira wanted to hug Manny as her mom gaped, not used to being chastised by her choice of prospective groom.
“Thanks, Manny,” she said, standing to give him a quick hug. “And I owe you lunch since you won’t get to eat this one.”
“Call me,” he said, with a smile, before mouthing, “Good luck.”
“I’m going to need it,” she said softly, before turning back to find Kushi watching their exchange with a strangely smug expression.
“What, Mom?”
“Protest all you like, but you two are good together.” She added an emphatic nod. “I just know it.”
Sighing, Samira said, “Mom, do you want to come back to my place so we can talk? We can order takeout.”
“Fine,” Kushi said. “Why don’t we take some of those vegetarian focaccias back to your apartment?” She pointed at the glass display. “That way we won’t waste time deciding on food and you can tell me all about this mystery man.”
“Okay.”
As Samira placed their orders and paid, she hoped to God she’d done the right thing in deflecting Kushi’s attention off Manish by bringing up the guy she was sort of dating.
Because she had a feeling her mom wouldn’t understand her infatuation with Rory, not one little bit.
* * *
* * *
You haven’t lost your chai-making skills,” Kushi said, draining her cup before placing it back on its saucer. “Do you drink it often in LA?”
Try never, but Samira would keep that gem to herself. “I’m usually too busy, so I grab takeout coffees.”
Kushi shook her head, her eyes narrowing slightly in judgment. “You young people are in too much of a hurry. Rushing here, rushing there, little wonder you don’t have time for finding a husband—”
“Mom, has it ever occurred to you that my experience with Avi scarred me so badly I may never want to get married again?”
Kushi’s lips compressed in tight disapproval.
Samira sighed, softening her approach. “I haven’t had a serious long-term relationship since Avi. In fact, the longest I’ve lasted is four months, and that’s with a guy I broke up with just before coming home.”
“Four months?”
Samira shouldn’t find her mom’s incredulity funny, but Kushi’s expression was a mix of shock, dismay, and sadness.
“He wanted to move in together, but I didn’t love him, so I ended the relationship. That’s why I’m enjoying my current situation with Rory.”
“Rory?” Predictably, Kushi zeroed in on the one fact hinting at his cultural background. “Rory does not sound Indian.”
“That’s because he’s not,” she said, adding a spoonful of sugar to her chai when she usually didn’t take it; anything to sweeten the mood. “He’s Australian.”
“Aiy, ya, ya.” Kushi gripped the table so tight her knuckles stood out. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Well, I don’t, because he’s sweet and fun to be with and exactly what I need.”
“But there’s no future.” Kushi gave the table a little shake for emphasis, sloshing chai from Samira’s cup into a saucer. “Why waste your time?”
“How do you know there’s no future?”
The moment the question slid from her lips, Samira felt guilty. She shouldn’t raise her mom’s hopes. Of course there could never be a future with Rory. They were too different, the age gap too great, and they lived on opposite continents. But she didn’t like having her choice dismissed so summarily. It wasn’t like her mom’s choice last time had been so great.
Kushi released the table to reach over and clasp Samira’s hands in hers. “Betee, I don’t want you going through the same hardships I did.”
Of all the things her mom could’ve said, she hadn’t expected that.
“What do you mean?”
Kushi’s gaze slid away, furtive, before she shifted in her seat, squaring her shoulders as if coming to a decision. “Why do you think I only considered Indian men for your first marriage and I persist in pushing you in Manish’s direction now?”
Samira had always assumed it had been about tradition, but by her mom’s downcast expression, there was more to this.
“You’re very culturally aware, Mom. Tradition is important to you, so isn’t that why?”
Kushi shook her head, her mouth downturned in sadness. “I loved your father, I truly did, but I often wonder if I made the right choice in defying my parents by marrying him. If I’d known how cast-off I’d be . . .”
Her mom made an odd garbled sound, halfway between a sob and a choke. “I already told you about the aunties, but back then it felt like the entire