Chapter Ten
‘You’re sweating,’ Sophie said. ‘Are you okay? We can stop at any time.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Mike panted. ‘We’re doing this.’ Even if it killed him, they were doing this. And it might. It might actually kill him.
‘We don’t have to do this. Do you want me to stop recording?’
‘No. I’m enjoying it,’ Mike grunted. ‘Promise.’
‘You don’t look like you’re enjoying it.’ Sophie sounded sceptical. She had every right to be sceptical. He was sceptical.
‘My pride is at stake here, Sophie. I have staying power. I can prove it.’ Mike swiped at his forehead, breathing hard, his voice sounding husky to his own ears. ‘I’m seeing this through.’ He was somewhat relieved that only half of the tables at Xi’an Famous Foods were full. Fewer people to watch his downfall.
Sophie laughed, digging her chopsticks into her bowl. ‘I thought you liked spicy foods.’
‘I do,’ Mike said plaintively. He grabbed his napkin, dabbing at his forehead. ‘My kids are going to mock me relentlessly, and I can’t say I blame them.’
Sophie smirked as she dug into the container for a spicy cucumber. ‘Why is that?’
‘Tara’s grandparents were from India. She cooked a lot of curries. I like curries.’ Mike downed half of his water. ‘How are you not dying?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘I like spicy food.’ She used her chopsticks to expertly shovel another wide noodle into her mouth, then rolled her eyes and groaned in pure bliss. ‘These are delicious .’
Mike was sweating, his mouth on fire, and the sight of Sophie groaning in almost orgasmic bliss almost shorted out his brain. Friends , he reminded himself. They were friends. His unhelpful brain chose that moment to pipe up, pointing out that friends didn’t usually know how each other tasted. He took another bite of his dumpling in an attempt to get his brain to shut up.
Sophie snickered. ‘Why do you keep eating?’
‘Because they’re delicious,’ Mike said. ‘And I never learn.’
‘It’s a different kind of spicy,’ Sophie said. ‘Or maybe you’re out of practice. When’s the last time you had spicy food?’
Mike placed his palms flat on the metal table. He was pretty sure that when he removed them, he’d see a steamy outline of each of his fingers on the shiny surface. ‘It’s been a while,’ he admitted. Indian food had been intimately linked with thoughts of Tara and after she’d passed, he’d been unable to face any of his favourite dishes unless his children were present. Even then, he’d still felt sad, he’d just tamped it down, unwilling to ruin their own happy associations with his grief.
‘Maybe you need to build your tolerance back up.’ Sophie nudged the cucumber salad towards him. ‘If you want any more, now is the time. Otherwise, I will eat the entire container.’
Mike gamely scooped up another bite with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. The cucumbers were crisp, the marinade delicious. He swallowed them, then grabbed another, getting a chilli this time. He ate it anyway because he refused, refused to shy away.
Sophie grabbed another dumpling. ‘I read somewhere that spicy food is good for your sex drive.’
Mike choked, coughing the chilli pepper he’d just swallowed back up. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, but it landed somewhere in the back of his sinuses. And it burned . Oh god.
Oh god.
It was practically volcanic, the sensitive area lighting up like one of those pinball machines from the 70s.
He started coughing into his napkin.
‘Oh dear,’ Sophie said. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?’
Mike shook his head, still coughing.
‘You’re turning a very concerning red.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Are you choking?’
He shook his head furiously. He kept coughing, which only lodged the pepper deeper. He was going to die, right here in front of a bunch of strangers, face down in a bowl of dumplings. While Mike was certain there were worse ways to die, he was pretty sure there were also better ways. Ways that weren’t so mind-numbingly stupid.
He wasn’t entirely sure the situation could get worse. His vision was going black around the edges.
‘Should I call someone?’ Sophie asked, her eyes even wider now. ‘Get you water?’
He gagged.
Oh no. Turns out it could get worse.
Mike lurched from his seat, bolting for the toilets.
‘I can never go back there.’ Mike was stretched out on the grass in Prospect Park, his arm over his eyes. The trees above covered them in dappled shade, so it was less about blocking out the sun and more about avoiding his self-reproach. ‘I have disgraced my family.’
Sophie sat next to him, her face turned up to the leaves. ‘This is a beautiful park. Also, you’re being ridiculous.’
‘It’s designed by the same people who mapped out Central Park in Manhattan. And of course I am, I’m always ridiculous, it’s just this time I’m also being honest – I’ve brought them shame.’ He dropped his arm. Errant slivers of light danced along her skin as the slight breeze moved the leaves above. Mike took a moment to admire the effect specifically, and her in general.
‘You have not,’ she said, sounding exasperated. ‘Sit up and try your shake. It will make you feel better.’
Mike levered himself up before digging out his phone. He tapped in the code to unlock his screen and handed it to her. ‘See for yourself.’
Sophie set down her milkshake and took his phone to read through the text chain, her free hand pressing against her lips to stop her growing smile. It didn’t work and she spluttered a laugh. ‘I stand corrected. Who’s Noah?’
‘My son Rahul’s husband. Noah’s usually the nice one. Amaya’s the more ruthless of the three, normally.’ He eyed the shake she’d offered him, which was resting on the grass. ‘Is that the small?’
‘They only had one size.’
‘Sometimes I think Americans eat like they don’t want to live,’ Mike said, taking a tentative sip. ‘What flavour is this?’
‘Strawberry donut. It’s a special. If you don’t like it, we can swap. I got salted caramel.’ She sipped her shake. ‘Maybe it’s more that they eat like they want to enjoy life?’
‘Why not both?’ Mike sipped at the shake, which was delicious and soothed his ravaged throat. ‘That does feel better, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Mike blew out a breath. ‘I cannot believe I threw up.’
‘You got a pepper stuck in your sinuses,’ Sophie pointed out. ‘I didn’t even know you could do that.’ His phone pinged and she read it, then laughed. ‘Amaya says she wants the video. She also says you have to go back. It’s a moral imperative, and you made Barney cry.’ She glanced at him. ‘Who’s Barney?’
‘The plant she got me for my sad flat.’ He took another long sip of his milkshake. ‘You might as well send her the video – that way, my humiliation will be complete.’
Sophie juggled both their phones, dropping the video into the chat. ‘If you do decide to go back, I’ll go with you. I’m going to be dreaming of those noodles and I might marry those dumplings.’
‘They were really good,’ Mike admitted. ‘Before I puked them all up.’
‘Where should we go next?’ She started pulling up local attractions on her phone, flipping through different websites. ‘We could rent pedalos.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Mike said. ‘With the way today’s going, we’ll end up capsizing. Let’s rain-check that idea.’
‘Can you capsize a pedalo?’
‘Normal people? No.’ Mike moved his shake back and forth between them. ‘Us? I’m not taking that chance.’
‘Fair enough,’ she said, finishing off her shake. ‘I’m open to ideas.’
‘No food,’ Mike said firmly. ‘At least, not yet.’ He sipped at his shake for a minute, thinking. ‘Fancy a trip on the subway?’
‘Does anyone, ever, actually fancy a trip on the subway?’
‘Of course not,’ Mike said. ‘But we’re taking one anyway.’
An hour later and they were standing in front of, to Mike’s mind, one of the most impressive buildings he’d seen in a long time.
‘What is it?’ Sophie peered up at the structure, eyes wide.
‘It’s called the Shed – a glorious construction of structural steel, insulated glass, polymers and reinforced concrete. It’s energy efficient and it moves .’
She blinked at him. ‘It what?’
‘Moves.’ He turned her slightly, pointing to the relevant part of the structure. ‘See that bit, there? Those are wheels. The building can expand as needed. It’s a centre for the arts, which includes performances, so when they need more space, they create it.’
‘Ooooh.’ The sound was filled with awe as it escaped her rounded lips. ‘I’d love to see that.’
Mike felt an overpowering urge to lean down and press a kiss just to the corner of her mouth, right there , and— Friends. They were friends. He wasn’t going to break his promise on the same day he’d made it. No, wait, he wasn’t going to break it at all. That was how promises worked, damn it.
He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘They don’t do it often. But it does have a bar that I’ve never been into. Can I buy you a drink?’
‘Yes,’ Sophie said, taking out her phone. ‘After I get some pictures and video first.’
Mike held out his hand. ‘Here, I can take some with you in it—’
Sophie shook her head. ‘First, let’s get a few of us.’
Mike dutifully followed her until she picked a good spot, taking several pictures of them from a few different angles. She examined the photos before they moved on, smiling after a second. ‘These are good. I can use these.’
‘You can?’ Mike shook his head. ‘But it’s your blog. You don’t need photos of me in it.’
‘Why not?’ Sophie asked. ‘It’s not like it’s only pictures of my face. I include Edie in it all the time. Besides, you’re the one that brought me here and you’re the one who’s going to tell me all about the building.’ She frowned up at him. ‘Unless you don’t want to be in it?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not that. I just don’t want to take over.’
‘You won’t,’ she promised with a grin. ‘Now let’s go and check it out. I want to poke about a bit before we head into the bar.’
They never made it into the bar. No sooner had they walked through the front gates than they were confronted with an explosion of people and noise.
‘What is this?’ Sophie asked, wonder in her voice.
Mike felt a sudden stab of envy. It was like Sophie approached the entire world with a sort of joyous curiosity. When had he stopped being like that? Had he ever been like that?
Sophie peered up at a banner. ‘It’s a market!’ She darted off and all he could do was follow.
The market was full of food vendors, with cuisines from all over the globe. Everything from samosas and meats on sticks to drinks in hollowed-out pineapples, ice cream cookie sandwiches, paper baskets full of arancini – if you wanted to eat it, he was pretty sure the market had it. As he watched, someone pulled apart their cheese toastie, revealing a literal rainbow of cheese.
Just standing as he was at the entrance was a sensory experience. Dozens of food smells wafted through the air, along with people chattering and laughing, while music from a nearby exhibit flowed in the background. Between the stalls and the people, there was so much to look at that he wasn’t sure where to start. It was like an explosion of flavour he could hear, see and smell as well as taste.
‘I have died,’ Sophie said solemnly. ‘And the afterlife is wonderful.’ She grabbed Mike’s hand, tugging him forward. ‘Come on!’
Startled by the sudden gesture, he made no argument, letting her tug him along in her wake. Without thinking, he laced his fingers through hers. The movement was so easy, so comfortable, that he didn’t even realize he’d done it until they’d stopped in front of a juice stand.
‘I want to drink out of a pineapple,’ Sophie said breathlessly. ‘I didn’t know how much I wanted that until just now.’ She cast her gaze around the market, her tone turning plaintive. ‘There’s so many things I want to try, but I’m not that hungry yet.’
Mike’s stomach rumbled. ‘Well, I’m starving.’
She gaped at him, incredulous. ‘How? We had that big lunch, and then milkshakes.’
‘ You had a big lunch,’ Mike reminded her. ‘I sort of rented mine and then gave it back.’
‘Oh, right.’
Mike took another long look at the offerings as he thought. ‘How about you get your pineapple. Then pick out three small things you want to try. I’ll order them, then you can sample as much as you want, and I’ll eat the rest.’ He peered down at her. ‘This will be good for your blog, right?’
Sophie nodded. ‘It’s perfect.’
He tried very hard to not think about how much he liked hearing her say that while she was looking at him. It was only . . . someone should be doing things to make her happy. To keep that joyful glow going. Her ex had done the opposite, and her son, rightfully, was focused on himself and his fiancée at the moment. Sophie had friends, but they were far away. He held no illusions that she wouldn’t make new ones quickly. She had that way about her.
Still, he was her friend, wasn’t he? That had been the plan. It was a good plan. Very sensible. Only it was getting snarled up in his chest with a bunch of other things, sparking like a rat’s nest of tangled-up wires.
He was still holding her hand. Which was fine. It was a friendly gesture. Although it didn’t feel friendly, more like essential, and he couldn’t name a single other friend he held hands with, but he was ignoring all of that. He’d have to let her hand go in order for her to get her pineapple. Until then, he was holding tight.
At that moment, Sophie turned her face up to him and beamed . He wasn’t sure why she did it, but it made that nest of wires spark so hard he thought he could smell burning plastic. Maybe he was having a stroke.
He wanted to kiss her. Badly .
And it wouldn’t end well. He knew that. Their last kiss gave him ample evidence that it would go poorly, and he’d only just returned to her good graces. He didn’t want to jeopardize that again.
He cleared his throat as he tugged her gently in the direction of the juice stand. There were only a few people in front of them in the queue. The one time he wanted a queue to be longer, the universe couldn’t oblige. Why couldn’t it give him this? Because as soon as they were at the front, he’d have to let go.
The juice person moved unforgivably fast and it felt like only seconds later that they were at the front. Which was fine. Absolutely fine.
He dropped her hand.
It felt even worse than he’d imagined, so he shoved that hand into his pocket and tried to ignore it. They were friends, damn it, and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.