Page 28 of Even If the Sky is Falling
He looked at her for a few long seconds, face washed with sadness, before he turned and walked away.
And Maya let him go. Fifteen-year-old Maya would have punched herself in the face for that. Hell, part of her was screaming to go tell him that he was right. The connection felt real to her, too. They could have been amazing.
But no. She couldn’t risk everything for Tarek Mizra. Even during Armageddon. She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered her therapist. Cat. Alive. Not alone.
Well, she had no idea where Percy was right now. Yeah, she was alive, but the longer this disaster was going on, the less likely it was that she was ever getting out of this damn flea market.
And shewasalone. So, so, alone.
She sighed as she picked up the bottle of Tarek’s tikka sauce. Her bottle was nice, but his looked so much more professional. That’s what happened when you had a whole restaurant empire that could afford branding experts instead of just a cab driver and a recent graphic arts graduate. Maya opened the bottle. Tarek’s sauce was much redder than hers. Most tikka sauces had artificial color in them, but Maya didn’t use any coloring in Masala Girls sauces.
She smelled Tarek’s sauce and was hit with a burst of fresh spices and a hint of citrus. She smelled cumin, coriander and chili, but there was more there. Tamarind? She needed to taste it to be sure. She took one of the little cups she used for samples and poured some of the sauce in it. The bright color stained the cup, but the sauce had a similar consistency as her own. She dipped her finger and tasted. She could detect the other spices then...turmeric, ginger, definitely lemon and a lot of chili. Plus...mango powder? That’s what the secret ingredient was. Maya pulled out another little plastic cup and poured some of her tikka sauce in it. She stuck her finger in it and put it in her mouth.
It tasted exactly the same. Not similar, not close, butidentical. Other than the color, Maya would bet there was no difference between the Curry Junction sauce and the Masala Girls sauce. Which made sense. Maya got the recipe from her father, and Tarek’s probably came from his father. And their fathers had created that recipe together in the old Jafari apartment back in Atlanta when both families were new to the country with dreams of a tandoori empire.
She put her finger back into Tarek’s sauce and into her mouth. All those years he’d been cooking his chicken in the same sauce she’d been making her paneer in. Somehow, that made Maya profoundly sad.
In all honesty, Maya had no idea what her father would say about her joining forces, professionally or personally, with Tarek Mizra. But she did know that her father was as risk averse as Maya was. Years ago, when Arif Mizra tried to convince Dad that Chattanooga was the place to build their future, she could imagine exactly what Dad would have said. He would have listed all the things that could go wrong for them in a new and smaller city. He’d have said he couldn’t possibly uproot the family and take a risk on an unknown.
And then Dad just stayed put while the Mizras went on to do amazing things. Maya had been the one who’d finally taken risks. She’d started therapy to help her with her chronic pessimism. She’d opened Masala Girls and worked her ass off to get it off the ground. She looked down at the little cups of Tikka sauce on the counter. Masala Girls washers, not her father’s. One day she hoped he would join her, but until then she had to make the decisions for its future.
This was yet another opportunity for Maya to take a risk that could have a huge payoff. Just like the last time she thought the world was ending and the fiery streaks in the sky pushed her to finally start her business. This was fate. They might never get out of this flea market, but if they did, Maya wanted to walk out with Tarek.
She threw the little cups of sauce into the garbage—but not before taking another fingerful of Tarek’s sauce. This whole nightmare could end, or not end, at any time. She didn’t want to waste one more moment of it alone.
Tarek wasn’t at Curry Junction, which made sense. An empty food truck wasn’t exactly a comfy place to hang out. He was probably back at their sofa. She made her way through the antique hall toward their little bedroom, when something stopped her short.
It was Percy, sitting near the skirts of that Victorian dress on the dress form in the theater prop booth. Maya smiled and stepped into the booth to rub Percy’s soft head, when she noticed that Percy wasn’t alone.
Tarek was on the chaise lounge in the booth—the one with the purple velvet upholstery. He was lounging, on it, of course, because that’s what one did on a lounge. He’d taken off his sweatshirt, and the sleeves of his worn gray Henley were rolled up showing his strong, naan dough–kneading forearms. And he was reading that historical romance she’d picked out for him.
Her mouth went dry. Why the hell had she sent this man away?
“For the love of God,” Maya said, shaking her head. “Are you for real? Why are you doing that?”
He startled, then raised one confused eyebrow, which only made this tableau even more arousing. “Youtoldme to read this book,” he said.
She stepped closer. “Tarek Mizra, you are on a chaise lounge. In a gray Henley with the sleeves pushed up, and you’re reading a sexy, feminist romance. You even have a fluffy cat nearby. All you need is a mug of masala chai. What right do you have to come back into my lifenowand be so utterly perfect that I can’t think straight?”
He frowned, putting down his book. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious.”
Maya shook her head and sat on the edge of the lounge, her legs touching his. “I’m being serious, Tarek.”
He frowned. “You sent me away. Why are you here?”
“Two reasons. One, because I tasted your tikka sauce, and it tasted exactly like mine. Like...identical. There is no reason for us to sell each other our sauces for your plan.”
He blinked, expression blank.
“Also—” she sighed and put her hand on top of his “—for the last year I’ve been trying to let more positivity in my life. And to take more risks when the payoff could be amazing. But I think I lost sight ofwhyI’m doing it.It’s not for my father or for anyone else butme.” She squeezed his hand. “I was only willing to take risks my family would take, instead of doing what’s best for me. Family is complicated. I’m not saying I’m choosing you over my father, but...I want totryto make this work.”
He squeezed her hand. “Just the business relationship, or the personal one?”
She smiled. “Both. I think this whole positivity thing would be easier if I had an optimist in my life.”
He grinned and sat up straight. “I’d be happy to put in an application for that role.”
Maya laughed. “Done. You’ve got the job.”
