“It was nice of you to come.” She sat up, took the tissue he offered, dabbing away the tears. “It’s been a long time since I had an anxiety attack. I try hard to keep my life under control.”

“I’m not judging.” His quiet, rumbling voice was calm and steady.

She nodded, pressing her lips together in case she blurted out something that would let him know that every time he opened his mouth the walls of ice that protected her heart melted just that little bit more.

Mehar Auntie filled Liam in on the details. “The vet told her Max will be okay and she can go home. He’s sleeping now, so he isn’t in any pain.”

“I can’t leave Max.” Daisy bent over again, hands fisted against her forehead.

Liam stroked a gentle hand through her hair. “My mom had anxiety issues and it helped when I rubbed her back . . .”

Daisy looked up at Mehar Auntie, who nodded, seemingly pleased rather than disappointed that someone was taking over her job. “Yes, please.”

“Pleasure.” He put his motorcycle helmet on the empty seat beside him and stroked her back with slow, easy movements of his hand, never stopping, never tiring, until the attack crested and she could breathe again.

“So you have a motorcycle,” Mehar Auntie said, her tone slightly curious.

“Yes. It’s easier to get around the city.”

“What club are you with?” she asked. “Are you full patch? I watched all of Sons of Anarchy, so I know what it’s about.”

“Auntie-ji.” Daisy shot up again. “He’s not in a motorcycle gang. He just rides for transportation.”

“You won’t be riding for transportation,” Mehar Auntie warned. “No Daisy on the motorcycle. If your father were here, he would say the same.”

Liam chuckled. “I promise not to take her for a ride unless she asks.”

“Can you do tricks?” Mehar Auntie tipped her head to the side. “Ajay Devgan did a full split on two moving bikes in Phool Aur Kaante, and then there were all the stunts in Hero—standing on the seat, five men on one bike.” She hummed under her breath, and Daisy felt a warning tingle in her chest.

“No!”

“Do you know the song ‘Ding Dong’?” Mehar Auntie jumped up, singing and dancing to the iconic song, albeit without her usual flair given the limited space.

“Auntie-ji! Sit down. You might disturb people.” Daisy shot a frantic glance around the waiting room where photographs of people and their pets covered the bright white walls. A woman with a cat in a carrier sat in one of the colorful plastic chairs and a man with a birdcage was talking to the receptionist. No one seemed annoyed. In fact, everyone was smiling, amused by her aunt’s antics.

“She’s a Bollywood fanatic,” Daisy explained to Liam. “We teach Bollywood dance classes together, and . . .” She gestured to her aunt. “She loves to dance.”

Liam laughed, the sound rippling over her skin, easing her tension. He scrolled through his phone to a YouTube version of the song. “Let’s help her out.”

By the time the last few notes of the song faded away, everyone in the waiting room was clapping along. Daisy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but her muscles were no longer tight and she could breathe again.

“He’s a good boy.” Mehar Auntie patted Liam’s shoulder. “Maybe I should go home and get some rest since you have extra company.”

“I’m happy to stay as long as you need me.” Liam placed his hand, palm up, on his knee and Daisy took the invitation. Warm, solid flesh squeezed her hand tight.

“If you’re okay with it,” she said to her aunt. “I know you love Max . . .”

Mehar Auntie leaned down to whisper in her ear. “He came all this way for you. You don’t need an old auntie when you have . . .” She gestured to Liam, her lips curved in a knowing smile as she turned to leave. “This.”

“You passed the test,” she said after her aunt had gone. “Good call on the music. There’s nothing she loves more.”

“I aim to please.” Liam squeezed her hand. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? I can bring you something to eat.”

She needed Liam to not be Liam but another kind, caring man who would race through the city to sit with a woman in an animal hospital after only three fake dates, a man who would not only humor a Bollywood-loving aunt, but also enjoy her show.

“Avocado and hummus quesadillas.”

Liam chuckled. “What about baked tofu fries?”

“Batata vada.” Jana Auntie’s potato fritters, coated with chickpea flour and served hot with chutney, were one of her favorite snacks.

“How about that crunchy snack food in the red bag that your relatives always bring from India?” Liam put an arm around her and she leaned against him.

“Kurkure Masala Munch?”

“That’s the stuff. Loved it. It was an effort not to eat the whole bag.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I appreciate your restraint, but that was your bag. Sanjay never liked it and I had my own hidden away.”

He stared at her in mock horror. “You mean I could have eaten it all?”

“Every bit.”

She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, berating herself for falling so easily back into their old banter. It was almost too easy to get comfortable with him, to feel the pull of longing and forget the abject humiliation and the soul-destroying pain. She had rules and she needed to stick to them. Rules kept her safe. Feelings, not so much.

“You don’t have to stay.” She pulled away from his warmth. “It was nice of you to come, but I might be here all night.” She gave a resigned shrug, hoping he would take the hint. “Even if I wanted to go, I can’t get up. I think my muscles are locked in this position.”