Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter
Twenty-seven
“Not enough for me? You are everything.”
—Jim Halpert, The Office
Harsha exited the car with her suitcase and headed toward Sunstag, her chest heaving. She’d gone there straight from Nandi Hills. With most of the guests leaving around the same time for Bangalore—some heading home, others to the airport—the drive had taken four hours instead of the usual two, and her phone battery had conveniently died midway through the journey.
Now it was past eleven p.m. , which was when Sunstag closed for the day, but the lights were still on, so hopefully Veer was still here. She couldn’t last another moment without dying of anticipation. She wanted to see Veer, but more than that, she needed to tell him she loved him.
She slammed her hands on the doors, groaning when they didn’t budge. Fuck. Had she lost her chance? Was Veer gone? She knocked a few times, trying to peer through the doors into the back of the café, but she couldn’t see anyone.
“Goddamn it,” she mumbled. The car that had dropped her off had already left; it looked like she would have to hail an auto rickshaw instead.
As she started to leave, the doors behind her unlocked with a click, and a soft voice said, “Harsha?”
Her heart leaped to her throat at the sound of that voice. His voice.
“Veer,” she whispered. Slowly, she turned and walked in through the open doors of the now fully lit café, stopping a few inches short of him. “How—how are you?”
He scratched his beard with a trembling hand. “I was in the back, finishing up the dishes. I’m glad you came.”
“I told you I would,” she said, setting her spare tote bag off to the side. “I came here straight from the wedding venue, but my phone gave up on me. Veer, I’m so sorry for everything. I didn’t mean to put you through so much shit—”
“Harsha—”
She shushed him and went on, “Starting with the whole fake relationship and tolerating my horrid father, to the money scare…you didn’t deserve any of that. Do you forgive me?”
His eyes moved back and forth, going from her curly hair to her hands, clasped tight. Finally, after the most suspenseful pause in history, he said, “No.”
Harsha hung her head, her eyes prickling with tears. “I understand,” she said. “In any case, I’m—”
“I don’t forgive you,” he interrupted her, taking her hand, “because you have nothing to apologize for. You held up your end of the deal in the end. Sure, it was an anxiety-inducing few hours, but it worked out. Besides”—he cracked a grin—“I got the job I auditioned for.”
Harsha clapped a hand to her mouth to hold back a scream. “Veer, that’s amazing, I’m so proud of you!” Her eyes locked with his, and she thought back to that moment at the bar, six weeks ago, when she had kissed his hand for the very first time to fool Neha. God. She’d lived what felt like a thousand lifetimes since then.
And all of them had been with Veer.
“What are you thinking, Harsha?” he said.
She licked her lips, trying not to think about the way he’d moaned her name into her mouth countless times the night they slept together, and said, “You said you were in awe of me.”
“I am.” He shrugged, a lazy smile on his face. “I always will be.”
“You know, Veer”—Harsha stepped closer so her sneakers touched his boots—“my whole life, men have liked me, desired me, picked me, and I thought that was enough for love. But…”
“But…?”
“Those men never cherished me. They never chose me when things went wrong. Instead, they found reasons to walk away. And when you left our hotel room, I thought you were done with this. With us.” Harsha let out a shaky breath. “I was so scared.”
Veer threaded his fingers through her curls. “Impossible. You’ve had a hold on me since the day you walked into Sunstag, wearing that dress with birds on it…and I hope you’ll never let go.”
“I’m not scared anymore,” she admitted, “because I realized that you cherished me even when I wasn’t yours to have. This relationship was fake, Veer, but your kindness never was.”
“No,” Veer said, shaking his head, “nothing about this was fake. Not my kindness, not our chemistry, not my love for you.”
Love. Harsha’s heart did a somersault as she tilted her face up, so close yet so far from him. “Are you gonna say it properly, or should I?” she teased.
Veer smirked, then did something she hadn’t expected him to—he picked her up, his arms tightening around her waist, and sat her down on the café counter, coming to stand between her legs. “I love you, Harsha.”
She pulled him in, grazing her lips along that beard she remembered all too well against her skin. “I love you, Veer. And I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”
“You’re mine, then.” Veer touched his forehead to hers. His lips were an inch away, his minty breath washing over her. “But what about your family?” he asked. “And the money? And—”
She silenced him with a kiss, and the world faded into oblivion. All of today, the memory of his soft lips, his tongue against hers, and his hands around her bare waist had tormented her. But now, it was all happening in reality, in glorious technicolor, while bright yellow lights shone upon them and soft jazz music played from the speakers at the very café where they’d met for the first time. Almost like they were the lead actors in a Bollywood movie, finding their way to each other at long last.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said, pulling away. “Together.”
He cupped her face with one warm hand. “Together,” he agreed, sighing. “Can we start over—a blank slate? Forget everything that happened until now and go on an actual first date?”
Harsha considered it, biting the inside of her cheek. “No,” she said. “I’m capable of a lot of things, Veer, but hitting the reset button on how much I love you? That’ll never happen.”
Veer kissed her, his hand moving to the back of her head as he weaved his fingers into her curls and smiled against her mouth. “God, I love you.”
They held each other for a few minutes, kissing in between tears and laughs, then Veer pecked her on the forehead. “It’s late. Let me drop you home.” When he turned to the side to pick up her stuff, his forehead crinkled at the cheap tote bag she’d bought from the gift shop at the wedding venue. “What happened to the Gucci bag?”
“I sold it. To Aunt Pinky. That’s how I paid you.”
He smiled. “You sold it? For me?”
She ducked her head as her face flushed. “Yes. I realized it didn’t have nearly as much sentimental value as I thought.”
“Thank you,” Veer said softly. He opened the door, and once he had locked up, they walked to his car, holding hands.
“So, where do we go for our first real date?” Harsha asked, swinging their arms together.
Veer exhaled, his grip tightening on her hand. “I’ll treat you well, Harsha. I’ll return every single rupee you paid me. Once I can, of course.” He kissed the back of her wrist. “I promise.”
“No,” she said, stopping in her tracks and facing him. “Veer, I don’t want dates at a gourmet restaurant with you. I don’t want a perfect happily-ever-after ending.”
He frowned. “Then what do you want?”
“I want benne masala dosa and filter coffee from CTR and vanilla ice cream with strawberry syrup at my place. I want a love—and a life—that we can build together.”
Veer’s mouth pulled up into the cute grin that, Harsha hoped, she would kiss for the rest of her life. He jutted his head toward his car, which was parked up ahead. “Then I know exactly where to take you.”
She giggled. People had always told her she had a wider-than-wide smile, but the joy bursting out of her chest made her jaw hurt as her lips stretched with pure bliss. “Let’s go, then,” she said.
“Aaaand…CUT!” the assistant director screamed. “Good job. That’s a wrap for today, guys. See you all tomorrow.”
Veer stood up from the desk he had been resting against and blushed at the soft claps echoing from around the studio. Alia, who played his sister and co-founder at the tech start-up where the story was set, smiled at him. “You did great.” She seemed to have sensed his nervousness during their first take early this morning, and she had been reassuring him of his performance the whole time. He had lucked out with the best co-stars, who were all excited to be a part of a sitcom that India’s queer youth desperately needed.
He said bye to the people on set, including the other actors and the crew, then left the building. Thankfully, the details of filming were still hush-hush, and shooting had started at four a.m. , so there were no paparazzi crowding the street outside. Then again, they wouldn’t have given Veer a second glance anyway. He wasn’t famous—but someday, he could be.
Grinning, he headed to his car to drive to Sunstag. He had decided to quit his job for the foreseeable future, but Harsha was still a regular customer there, and he had promised to join her for a coffee after his first day on set.
“Good morning,” he said merrily as he walked through the doors, enjoying the tinkling of the wind chimes above him.
Deepika and Raunak looked up at him with broad smiles. “How did it go?” Raunak asked, rushing to him from behind the cash register, despite a customer waiting. Deepika tutted loudly and took the customer’s order, though she was still smiling.
“Amazing,” Veer replied. “Is Harsha here?”
Raunak grinned. “She’s upstairs, waiting for you.” Now that it was a real relationship, Veer’s friends had excitedly accepted Harsha as the newest addition to their bar hangouts. She had won their hearts like she’d won his.
Veer took the stairs two at a time to get to his girlfriend’s usual table. Her back was to him, and she was, like always, deep into her laptop as she edited photos, probably from the engagement photo shoot she’d done yesterday. Multiple guests from Neha’s wedding had emailed her with inquiries, and now she was booked out for the next month and a half. Veer had never been prouder.
“Hello from your local Netflix actor,” he said as he bent to kiss her shoulder.
She jumped, pulling her AirPods out. She pecked him on the lips from where she was sitting, then grinned when he joined her. “So?” she asked, her eyes wider than plates. “How did my celebrity boyfriend’s first day go? Was Kunal Jowar there?”
Veer tried not to laugh, though he felt his lips twitch. “He’s the director.”
“I know that.” Harsha swatted his shoulder eagerly. “Did you at least get a selfie with him, for my sake? Gosh, he makes the best movies!”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Drop by the studio sometime; you can take a selfie with him yourself.”
She gasped, her other hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my god, I would love that. Look at us both living our dreams. Who would have thought, five months ago, that we’d make such a power couple?”
“Not me,” Veer said, laughing, “although I did enjoy flirting with you.”
“I still can’t believe you remembered I wore that bird dress that first day—you know, it’s still lying in my closet somewhere.”
Veer’s eyes widened, and he scooted his chair closer to hers. “Could you wear it tonight?”
“Only if you promise to take it off.”
He leaned in and kissed her, tasting the vanilla on her tongue as her mouth parted for him.
Harsha shoved him away, giggling. “I have to work! Don’t distract me with your kissing and your forearms.”
He grinned, pulling her in for another kiss. “Oh, Harsha Godbole, that’s one promise I’ll never keep.”