“Keep it.” Nasir gave a violent shake of his head. “I don’t want.”

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re leaving?”

“It’s time we moved on,” Nasir said. “Live our own life, our own dreams.”

“This wasn’t your dream?”

“This was my son’s dream.” Nasir sighed. “Everything bigger. Everything fancier. He wanted more than just a restaurant. He wanted a Patel family enterprise—packaged meals in the grocery stores, Patel-branded products and spices, cookbooks, television shows . . .” He drew in a weary breath. “It was all going to be run from the office upstairs. He decorated that space. Bright and modern, he said. Leave the pipes and beams exposed, don’t cover the brick . . .” Nasir threw his hand in the air. “The only thing that was mine was the desk. Nice rosewood. Solid and sturdy. A desk like that will last forever.”

“It’s a great desk.”

“I brought it from the old restaurant.” Nasir gave him a wistful smile. “We were twenty years there. Small but cozy. Every night it was full. People lined up outside the door, talking and laughing. Jana handed out jalebis to the kids. And it was near the house. No long commutes every day. But for Dev, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more customers. A big name. He bought this building with his friends so we could have this space. How could I say no? He was my son.”

“He wanted the best for you.”

“He wanted it for him. He just didn’t know himself well enough to realize it.” Nasir pointed to the stack of fish that Sam had just filleted. “Look at that. I couldn’t have done better myself and I am a lifetime in the business. This is what your hands wanted to do. I felt ill and you were taking my pulse. You are a healer, and you’re throwing your gift away.”

“I’m not worthy of that gift.” Sam put down his knife. “I failed everyone I cared about.”

“You failed yourself by wallowing in your guilt,” Nasir said. “You can’t be in everyone’s head, guessing what they are going to do. The real measure of a man comes not when things go right, but what he does when things go wrong.”

“I’m trying to fix everything.”

“You can’t fix anything until you fix yourself.”

“What about you?” Sam asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his failings. “If you leave this place, what will you do?”

“We’re going to move back to our old location.” Nasir smiled. “We still own the building. I already gave notice to the tenant. We’ll freshen it up, bring some of this new equipment, and I can get back to being a chef and not a celebrity. My doctor thinks this is a good idea. Less stress. Less work. And less commuting.”

Sam’s stomach clenched in a knot. He’d imagined everything staying the way it was. Layla would stay in the office. He and Royce would move down the block. Nasir would be downstairs. He couldn’t be with Layla, but he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else.

“I drew up a lease for Layla.” Sam pulled out the document. “Do you think she’ll move back in?”

“That’s not up to me. That’s up to you.”

* * *

• • •

LAYLA made a perimeter check of the office, taking care to inspect every nook and cranny for any evidence of Royce’s crazy party. Whoever had cleaned up had done a good job. Not a trace remained. Her desk had been straightened, photographs in their frames, ornaments in the corner, and there was only a faint ring where her fishbowl had been.

Only Sam’s desk wasn’t the same. Clean and bare, without the neatly stacked papers or the rows of sharpened pencils, it was as empty as the hole in her chest.

She and Daisy had returned to the office to pack up their stuff, but now that she was back, it was difficult to leave. Not just because of the bittersweet memories, but also because she had finally found her name.

Patel Personnel.

It had everything Royce and Evan suggested—a catchy ring, alliteration, and meaning. But more than that, it was her. Could she have made the business work if she’d thought up the name earlier? Or was there another secret to success?

“There were twenty-seven messages on the phone,” Daisy called out. “And they’re not just from people looking for jobs. Employers. Lots of them. What do you want me to do?”

Layla’s stomach twisted in a knot. “I don’t know. I’ve been interviewing for jobs but—”

“Are you crazy?” Daisy cut her off with an exasperated sigh. “You don’t have time for a job. All these people want you, not some big-name agency that doesn’t give a damn who they are. What happened to all your dad’s sayings? ‘Patels like to be their own boss,’ ‘Patels persevere,’ ‘Patels and pakoras are made to be together, especially at lunchtime when Daisy’s hungry.’”

“Patels are also realistic. I gave this a go and it didn’t work out. I thought I could love someone again, and I got hurt. I thought I could make a fresh start and I’m back to where I was before.”

“Are you kidding me?” Daisy’s voice rose in pitch. “You are nothing like the woman who ran away to New York. That woman was afraid to live. She dated guys she knew she couldn’t love and she took a job she knew she wouldn’t like so there was no chance she would get hurt again. But look at you now. You didn’t like how most agencies were run so you started your own damn business. You wanted a serious, stable relationship so you went on blind dates with total strangers and you fell for the strangest man of all.”

Laughter bubbled up in Layla’s chest. “Sam isn’t strange.”

“Yeah. He’s strange. Trust me. The whole pencil thing . . . and the tidy piles of paper . . . and don’t get me started on the chai.” She sighed. “And then there was the whole avenging his sister thing. Who does that?”

“Pretty much everyone in every revenge movie ever made.” Layla ticked them off on her fingers. “Kill Bill, The Crow, Taken, V for Vendetta, Payback, The Punisher, True Grit, Braveheart, John Wick, Unforgiven . . .”

“Now you’re just showing off.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Layla said. “I can’t love someone who is destroying my parents’ business as well as my own. I should never have played that stupid game with him. If I’d kicked him out the day we met, none of this would have happened.”

Daisy spun around in her chair. “That game was never about the office. It was about him. If you really wanted him out of here, you would have sent him away.”