Layla smiled as she walked out the door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need.”

• 24 •

SWEAT trickled down the back of Sam’s neck as he hesitated at the door to The Spice Mill. He’d been avoiding this talk with Nasir since the party, but it was long overdue.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed until five.” A middle-aged woman with short-cropped hair looked up, her smile fading when she saw him. “Oh. It’s you from upstairs. Get out or I’ll throw my shoe.”

Sam had a vague memory of seeing her coming in and out of the restaurant, but he’d never taken the time to ask her name.

“I’m not here to cause trouble, Auntie-ji. I came to see Mr. Patel.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you know the pain and suffering you’ve caused? All this. All the hard work. All they have done and you just throw them out on the street.”

“Let the boy through, Pari,” Nasir called out from the kitchen door. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

Sam made his way through the empty restaurant. They hadn’t opened yet for the evening and an elderly man was smoothing gold tablecloths over the sturdy wooden tables. The decor was a fusion of Indian and modern, rich with color and over-the-top displays.

Nasir waved him into the kitchen, where a young chef glared at him as he stirred a giant pot of rogan josh. The delicious scent made Sam’s mouth water.

“I wasn’t sure you would see me.”

“We’re both businessmen,” Nasir said. “This is how business goes. We didn’t pay the rent for many months. I knew we were living on borrowed time. My son’s friends didn’t have the heart to kick us out, but they were struggling to carry us for so long.”

“I still want to apologize for what happened.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “My partner and I were trying to secure a contract and the location was important to our clients. I told him to do what it took to make a deal. I’m not blaming him. The fault is entirely mine. I should have anticipated the outcome.”

“Have you ever deboned a fish?”

Sam all but gaped at the sudden turn of the conversation. “No. My mother wouldn’t let me do anything in the kitchen.”

“Wash your hands. Grab an apron. It’s never too late to learn.”

Sam wasn’t about to say no to Nasir, especially when the chef was holding a knife. He washed up and joined Nasir at the stainless steel counter.

“Do what I do.” Nasir slit the belly of the fish in front of him with a flick of his wrist.

Sam copied his steady movements, and they worked together in silence until both fish were deboned and neatly sliced.

“You’re good with a knife,” Nasir said.

“I used to be a surgeon. It didn’t work out.” Sam picked up another fish and sliced through the belly.

“You failed?”

“No. I quit.”

“Quitting is worse than failing.” Nasir’s hands flew, deboning another fish in half the time. He’d been holding back, Sam realized, testing him. But now the real competition began.

“Failing means you tried and couldn’t do it,” Nasir continued. “Quitting means you gave up.”

“A surgeon at the hospital where I worked, my mentor, hurt my sister,” Sam said. “He was never punished. I couldn’t work there anymore. I couldn’t be a healer when I should have recognized the kind of man he was and when his continued freedom made a mockery of the oath we had sworn to uphold.”

“Selfish,” Nasir muttered, half to himself. “Maybe I was wrong about you when we first met . . .”

“Selfish?” Sam’s voice rose in pitch and he shot an apologetic glance at the angry chef and the two other cooks who were keeping an eye on them as they worked. “I’ve spent the last four years trying to bring him to justice. I sacrificed everything to put myself in a position where I could make it happen.”

“You deprived the world of a skilled surgeon.” Nasir stopped, leaning on the bench as he drew in a breath. “Think of how many lives you could have saved. Instead, you cared only about one—”

“My sister means everything to me. He destroyed her life. The least I could do is give her justice.”

“Did she ask to be avenged?”

John had asked him the same question. Nisha had never asked for vengeance. She just wanted to be done with Ranjeet and move on with her life.

Nasir reached blindly for the stool behind him. Alarmed, Sam helped him sit. Without thinking, he placed his fingers on Nasir’s wrist and took a quick pulse.

“I’m fine.” Nasir waved him away. “I’m just getting used to the new pacemaker.”

“Your heart rate is a bit high. You need to rest. I’ll finish this while we talk.” He washed his hands again and picked up the fillet knife, trying to remember the complications of pacemaker implants. Had Nasir just pushed himself too hard? Infection in the incision? Nasir didn’t appear to be feverish. No clammy skin. His eyes weren’t dilated. Hands weren’t shaking.

“So you did it for you,” Nasir said. “To make the guilt go away. To feel like a man again—to feel worthy.”

And there it was in a nutshell. Yes, the guilt had been crushing him. He’d wanted to turn back the clock and be the boy who had beat up a gang of bullies for throwing a rock at Nisha in the playground, the teenager who had picked her up from parties, the brother she could count on. Not the narrow-minded ambitious resident who couldn’t recognize a monster when he saw one every day.

Nasir moved to stand and Sam shook his head. “You should sit for at least ten minutes. Get that heart rate back down. Take a load off.”

“I already took a load off,” Nasir grumbled. “Forty pounds. Gone. People will think my cooking isn’t good. Look, they’ll say. Nasir is so thin. He doesn’t eat his own food. Why should we go to his restaurant when Manoj Gawli down the street at Tamarind Restaurant is healthy and round?”

Sam chuckled. “I don’t know anyone who measures the success of a restaurant by the diameter of the owner’s belly.”

“You aren’t in the food business.” Nasir settled on his stool. “You’re in the quitting business. How would you know how to measure success?”

“I came to see if we could keep you in the food business.” Sam slid his knife through the fish, his hands remembering how to cut and slice gently through flesh. “I found office space only a few blocks away that would meet our client’s requirements, and I’ve withdrawn the eviction proceedings. If you would be willing to stay on with us as landlords, then I’m sure I can convince my partner to move to the new location.”