16. Sona
SONA
M ontréal was a maybe, I had said to him, but I hadn’t really expected him to show up. Not after how I had slipped out of his home the last time.
We had exchanged a total of two texts since Dallas. The first was him sending me his number. The second was a brief Hey, stranger in response to my acknowledgment of his text.
Yet, here he was, sitting in the audience, engrossed in Payal’s talk. He had snuck in when the lights were dimmed for pictures of marble quarries for Payal’s presentation. I had spotted him instantly, his distinctive big frame quite hard to miss. Taking a seat at the rear of the room, as if that would somehow hide him, he kept his eyes off me the entire session. But my heart kept strumming during my entire presentation. It took some willpower to keep my composure during the Q&A while I responded to questions directed at me.
When the audience started trickling out at the end of the session, Mihir approached the podium with relaxed, confident steps.
“Congratulations, Dr. Thomas,” he said in his sexy, commanding voice. “That was a brilliant presentation and a very interesting session.” As if I lived for his accolades. When I thanked him, he proceeded to congratulate Payal in the same calm, professional demeanor. Payal lifted her heavily pregnant body from the chair gently.
“Thank you,” she said warmly. “Where do you teach?”
“Oh, I’m not here for the conference. I’m here for her.”
The water I had just begun to sip quickly circumvented my esophagus and traveled directly to the trachea. I caught a flash of amusement on Mihir’s face as I whacked through my cough.
“What’s that?” Payal said after I’d regained my dignity. She cast him her evil, flirty smile. “I spent all last evening with her, but she didn’t mention you.”
With finesse, Mihir gleaned my friendship with Payal. It was one of his superpowers. Maybe that’s what made him good at his job.
“That’s because she ran out on me, slipped out in the dark of the night without telling me.”
Payal squeaked. “Did you really?”
“He loves to exaggerate. It was late afternoon, I left him a note, and he did see me at the airport.”
“Ah, you’re the boyfriend, then?” she asked him.
“Nope, she’s noncommittal. I’m more of a…playmate. Well, was .”
Payal burst into laughter, and I buried my face in my hands. “I want the ground to swallow me up right now.”
“Stop being dramatic,” Payal chided. “Sita, we’re not. And if, by some unseen force, the Earth does split into two, he won’t have any trouble finding another playmate, pronto.”
I scowled at her, which seemed to put a grin on Mihir’s face.
“Alright, you two, have fun. I’m going to haul myself to my room, put my feet up, and relax between cozy sheets.”
“We’ll walk you back to your hotel. May I carry your bag?” he asked, extending a polite hand.
Payal offered him a warm, casual smile and handed him her laptop tote, but behind his back, she mouthed a silent squeal at his charming appeal. It took everything in me to resist rolling my eyes into my head.
“So what now?” I asked when we walked out of Payal’s room, having settled her with a cup of hot tea and the TV remote.
“I wanted to see you. I’ve seen you. Now we go our separate ways.”
“Did you come all this way only to see me?”
“And to hear you speak. I think your argument about the subversive potential of gendered public spaces is quite radical.”
My brows launched upward. “Why, thank you!”
“I particularly enjoyed Payal’s talk about the marble mafia. That’s bold work, given she’s a woman in what’s a through-and-through men’s domain right there.”
My eyes widened again. “Now I’m doubly impressed!”
“Thank you. So the next time I talk about debt advisory and restructuring, I expect you to applaud my brilliance.”
I laughed and stood gazing into his eyes by the elevator bank.
“I’ll walk you back to the conference,” he said. “I don’t want you missing your sessions on my account.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’d never do that. I was planning to see the Notre-Dame Basilica. I won’t mind if you want to tag along,” I offered.
Admiring the eclectic mix of old and new architecture, we walked from the Palais des Congrès and crossed the Place d’Armes to the Basilica. Mihir insisted on paying for my entry ticket at the Basilica, and I decided not to argue because the beauty of the church had me mesmerized.
As we stepped inside, I stopped in my tracks and squeezed his hand. “It’s glorious! Spectacular!”
He squeezed my hand back as I kept walking toward the altar. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I’m enthralled each time.”
“How many times have you been to Montréal?”
“This is my fourth visit,” he said as we approached the altar.
“Did you know Celine Dion was married in this church?”
“Yes. I was, in fact, in attendance at their wedding,” he joked, and I stifled a laugh.
When we reached the consecrated dais, I dropped his hand and closed my eyes, channeling Appa and his prayers. When I was done, I found Mihir standing by me with hands cupped in front, just like my father.
My heart fluttered at the image, but I placed my phone in his hand and said, “Could you take a few pictures for me?”
“Sure,” he said, and I posed against the azure blue light of the altar.
We walked around the gorgeous church, stopping by the pulpit, against the intricately carved staircase, and the organ on the mezzanine to take pictures.
“My family’s going to love these,” I said, approving the ones he’d taken.
When we were ready to leave, I faced the altar to cross myself, and he said, “I forgot this is a place of worship for you, not a tourist attraction.”
“I was raised with both Christianity and Hinduism. Were you praying right then?”
“I’m agnostic.”
I snorted. “And you call me noncommittal.”
“Are you religious?”
“Not particularly, but I’ve been known to pray on occasion.”
When we stepped back out, the autumn afternoon sun was mellow.
“Let’s get coffee,” he suggested, but I was already walking toward a boutique I had spotted on Notre-Dame Street.
“I want to get something for my cousin’s daughter,” I said as I scanned the jewelry section in the boutique. “She’s a teenager and very difficult to buy for.”
I stopped in front of a display of jewelry.
“These are all handmade by local artists,” the store clerk informed us.
I smiled back. “They are stunning.”
Mihir picked up a pair of earrings and said, “How are these?”
It was a nice delicate pair, but strangely classy, like a nice mix between playful and ladylike. If I knew more about jewelry, I would’ve been able to explain it better. Mihir had impeccable taste, but there’d never been any doubt about that. I silently huffed at his near-flawless personality.
At the checkout counter, the clerk presented me with a tray of handmade bookmarks. “This item is quite unique,” she said. “It will be a wonderful gift for a special person.”
I marveled at the hammered silver bookmarks with colorful silk tassels at one end. “These are gorgeous,” I said to her as I made my selections from the tray. “I’ll take these two and the earrings, please. Can you gift wrap them?”
When we stepped out of the shop, I handed one gift-wrapped bookmark to Mihir. “Can you give this to your mom from me?”
He hesitated before accepting it from my hand. “Were you aware she knew I was coming here to see you?” His voice held a distinctive tone of disbelief.
“No. Why?”
He took a moment’s pause before responding, “She sent something for you.”
My eyes widened as I shook my head. “I haven’t spoken to her recently.”
His features softened. “She’s sent some besan barfi for you.”
“For me ?” My insides turned gooey like the gram flour fudge he had just mentioned.
“Yes, for you, Sona Thomas. She made it herself. And now, here you are, sending some exquisite gift back for her.” He cocked an eyebrow. “What’s cooking between the two of you, I wonder?”
I patted his arm. “It’s called friendship. Just because we are decades apart doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
He offered me his arm as we started walking back toward my hotel.
“I’m ready for that coffee you suggested,” I said, sliding my hand through the crook in his elbow.
We passed several small, crowded cafés, finally stopping at one that looked less busy.
“No wonder it’s empty. It has three dollar signs next to it on Google,” I said, checking the details on my phone. I ordered a latte and a slice of chocolate cake while Mihir got an espresso and a cheese Danish.
“Don’t even try,” he warned when he saw me reaching for my wallet.
“So…” I said after we’d settled onto plush chairs. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”
He didn’t respond, just stared at me with warmth. Being so close to him again made my heart beat a little faster. I flashed back to that afternoon at the taqueria when the world around me had melted away. It was just him and me. I promptly redirected my gaze to my cake.
“I needed to see you, and this was the only way I could without invading your personal space,” he explained softly, and I looked back up at him. “It’s a public event. I found the schedule online. I even registered and paid so I didn’t feel like I was crashing the conference.”
The weight of his admission crushed me, but I chose deflection like I always did when I was flustered.
“Darn you corporate kinds,” I quipped. “You know we rely on small grants and allowances to cover our conference costs, and you come around swinging your money to attend a conference you have no business being at.”
He took an unhurried sip of his espresso. The tiny cup should have looked ridiculous in such large hands, but he had the uncanny ability to make everything work. Handsome devil.
I wanted the sizzle of that hand on my bare skin. I wanted those thick, long fingers pinching my nipples, breaching into places that would make me squirm and moan.
I gathered myself. “How are your parents?” I asked.
“They are well.”
“And you?”
“Good,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee, but the look on his face said he was better than good.
Just like the chocolate cake I was eating, the best I’d ever had. A part of me tried to convince myself it was because I was seated across from Mihir, watching his fantastic mouth relish that pastry. But I knew my baked goods well enough to know that was a darn good piece of confectionery.
We walked back in silence, our hands brushing. The last session of the conference had concluded a half hour ago. The streets were lit with a soft yellow glow from the lamps, gradually overtaking the waning light of the sun. Groups of people stringed along the sidewalks, cold but chirpy, making their way to restaurants and bistros to grab seating for an early dinner. I exchanged nods with several acquaintances as they huddled against the breeze.
“Alright, I’ll see you in December,” Mihir said as we stood in the lobby of my hotel.
I frowned. “That’s it? You’re just going to casually say bye after flying across the span of a country into another to see me?”
“I can’t impose on you, Sona, but if you want to see me again, I’m at the hotel next door. Use the rear entrance of this building, and you’ll be at the doorstep, right across the street.
“That fancy historic hotel?”
“That’s where I stay when I visit. I’m in the King Suite, and you have my number.”
And then, the sneaky man just left! No hugs or his urbane kiss-on-the-cheek. Not even a handshake. Just a simple goodbye.
Ugh, he was so aggravating! I fumed as I knocked on Payal’s door. She didn’t answer, as expected, the reason why I had brought along a slice of the chocolate cake.
Open the door , I texted her, dexterously balancing the cake in one hand, the phone in another, with my loaded work tote strapped on my shoulder.
Go away. I’m comfortable in my bed.
I come bearing a treat.
The door opened a few inches. “What do you have?”
I gave her a peek. “A slice of heaven.”
“Alright, you can come in.” She tried to grab the container the moment I stepped in, but I pulled it away.
“Hey, did your results come back okay? I don’t want Jaya coming for my neck because I fed you too much sugar.”
She wrapped a loving arm around me and smiled widely. “Yes, everything’s good. Everything’s perfect.”
When I nodded, she snatched the box from me and came around to settle on the bed.
“Is Qing joining us?” I asked, pulling up a chair. Qing was her friend and a third of our co-editing team.
“No, she’s meeting friends for dinner.”
“That reminds me, do you want me to get you anything?”
“I ordered room service.” She raised her eyebrows. “What happened to that charmer? Did you ditch him again?”
“No, he bid me goodbye and retreated to his hotel.”
“What’s the problem here?” She readjusted herself in bed with the cake in her lap and a fork weaponized and ready to attack the delectable sponge.
“Absolutely none,” I said. “Shall we talk about the book now?”
She tried giving me the disapproving big-sister look she’d mastered, but I’d learned to dodge it years ago. Begrudgingly, she pulled out her journal of notes from our previous meetings, most of them conducted by phone or over video chat.
Editing a book wasn’t an easy task, but co-editing it with a brilliant, organized mind like Payal was a delightful and enlightening experience. She had learned much from her mentor, and I was learning from her.
“So, this Mihir…” She closed the journal after an hour’s discussion and dug into her leftover cake. “He’s delicious, isn’t he?”
I frowned at her. “Aren’t you pregnant?”
“And gay, but I don’t see your point.”
I grumbled audibly. She teased me with a grin for a moment before turning somber. “Look, he isn’t Ajay. Ajay was never right for you.”
“And Mihir is?”
“I’m not saying that, but no one travels from Texas to Montréal unless there’s something real there.”
“He’s a rich man with way too much time on his hands, apparently.”
“I know Jaya wouldn’t do it, no matter how much money she had.”
“Uh… had ? Did you forget your wife was just made CEO of her swanky company?”
She dismissed me with a wave of her fork. “You know what I mean. She wouldn’t do it unless she had real feelings for me.”
“ Feelings is a bit extreme. Plus, he isn’t the ‘feelings’ type. I’m his distraction for now.”
“Then distract him! You can do with some distraction too.”
“And get hurt in the process?”
“Oh…my god…” She lowered the fork down slowly for dramatic effect. “You really like him!”
I looked away. “Don’t start.”
Dropping the fork in the box, she took my hand in hers. “Look, I may not be much older than you, but I’ve definitely seen more of the world. You’re like a baby bird barely out of your nest. You’ve led a very protected, very sheltered life.” It was true. “So here’s what I think… He won’t hurt you. Put all your cards on the table, Sona. You’re holding them too close to your chest. Let him see them. He’s mature. He can handle it. And it will be good for you.”
My eyes glazed over her. “Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe that’s what’s behind all this ridiculous advice.”
She picked up the fork and used it to wave me out. “That’s it, off you go.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as she got busy with her cake again.
I exited her room and stepped into the eerie silence of the dim corridor.