“I didn’t know that,” she says quietly. “I thought—I guess I never thought about it. I just always knew the tea room was Baba Vihaan’s and one day it would be yours. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Nobody wants to inherit a tea room. But who else is gonna do it? Meera?”

Grace presses her lips together, quiet.

“The worst part is if I told her, she would. If I said, ‘Hey, M, I really, really don’t wanna run this place,’ she’d stop studying psychology. She’d fast-track a business degree, and she’d do it. And I’d win big brother of the year, right?”

“But it’s not fair—” Grace says, and he slams his glass down hard enough that it rattles.

“That’s the point,” he says. “It’s not fair, but that’s what people have to do. It’s life. Sometimes you don’t want to run a goddamn tea room, and in the end maybe you have to run two. We all have responsibilities, and we don’t just get to drop everything when they blow up in our faces.”

“Hey,” she snaps. “This isn’t my fault, okay? You don’t get to take your shit out on me. It’s not like I have it fucking easy—”

“How long are you going to do this?” he asks, eyes flashing with rare anger and upset. “You decided to study astronomy. You decided to get a fucking doctorate. You knew it would be hard, and now that it is, you want to leave us all behind and run away with some girl you don’t even know.”

Grace jerks back. The words come like a tangible slap across the face. “Okay,” she says, and it is a trembling, shaking breath. “Okay.”

“Shit,” Raj murmurs. “Shit, I didn’t mean that.”

She takes a shot. It burns in her chest, but no more than the burn behind her eyes or on her cheeks, incensed at what he apparently thinks of her.

Raj grabs her hands again. Soft this time. Gentle this time. She can’t look at him.

“Gracie,” he says. “This tequila is hitting at the absolute worst time. Listen. I’m an ass. I’m jealous and upset, but I didn’t mean that. Okay?”

“Okay,” Grace says carefully. “Then, what did you mean?” She snatches her hands away and puts them in her lap. Humiliation burns in her gut, and she finds herself digging painful grooves across her knuckles. “Is that why you’re so upset? Because I had the chance to study medicine like you wanted, and I didn’t? Because I left the tea room, and put my own dream on hold? Because I don’t know what I want or who I am or where the fuck I’m supposed to be? Because I’m realizing I don’t fucking fit?”

“No,” he breathes out. The room is so hot, and it starts to spin. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Because it’s not just hard, Raj. That job, the one my mentor told me had my name written all over it? They questioned every piece of my research. They insinuated that it was Professor MacMillan who had done the work and graciously allowed my name to be included. One of them wondered if my professional memberships with the Black STEM Group and Black LGBTQ Science were advocating division, and they made sure to mention division was not a part of their culture.” She closes her eyes, trying to get a handle on her emotions. “I’ve spent months fielding rejections, Raj, for all the various reasons that they deem wrong with me. I don’t expect to just be handed things, but why the hell not? I spent eleven years doing nothing else but chasing this. Sacrificing so much and running myself into the ground for this. Why shouldn’t it be handed to me now? Why should I have to fight? Haven’t I proved myself enough?”

Her tongue tastes sour from the tequila. “So,” she spits out. “What did you mean?”

He scrubs his hands through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to be the bad guy here.”

“Is that your explanation?”

“No, Porter,” he snaps. “It isn’t. My point is that this was never about you. You buried yourself in your work and your research just to prove Colonel wrong. Everything else, everyone else, came second to that. So, I’m sorry you didn’t get the job. I’m sorry they don’t see you for all the work you’ve done, because it’s good work. You’re a good goddam astronomer, just like you wanted to be, and it fucking sucks that it’s so hard. But, was it worth it? Was it the big fuck-you you wanted it to be? Or not, since everything else has always been less of a priority than breaking your back to prove you’re the best?”

It seems so absurd, but when you’ve known people so long, you know how to love them, and you know how to hurt them. You know all the soft spots where your claws dig in and press.

“Or was the fuck-you running off with a stranger you drunk-married in Vegas? You left us behind like we don’t have our own things that are hard. Like we haven’t spent years holding each other up, because that’s what we do. I can’t help you, I can’t support you, and you can’t support me, when you just leave.” He swallows hard, looking away. “Why do you always think you have to get through everything alone? It doesn’t have to be hard alone.”

Grace grits her teeth so hard, her jaw starts to ache. They shouldn’t be drinking. In the morning, or even in a few hours after he’s gotten sick, Raj will apologize. He’ll call Grace little sister, and they’ll hug it out. Now, though, he’s drunk, and his claws dig deep at the soft parts she forgot she had to protect. His words reveal a truth she’s tried hard to bury: Grace Porter is not as strong as she thought she was, and instead is the lonely, terrified creature she has yet to embrace.