The beat kicked up. He took her hands and drew her close, matching her beat for beat. Just like that, in the middle of the crowd, everything else faded away. The noise blurred. The lights dimmed. It was just him. Just her.
“I’m not sure I properly thanked you for saving my life,” Hena told him.
“I think Bob played a bigger role,” he said. “For the record, I’ve changed my mind. The Everglades are way overrated.”
“It’s not always fun to be right,” she teased. “But honestly,the Everglades can be pretty special. When you see a breeze wave over a wide swath of grassy marsh, it can feel otherworldly. Stumbling across a wild orchid—it’s magical.”
“Thatdoessound nice, but it’s definitely time for a scenery cleanse.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’m thinking of renting a boat and hitting the ocean tomorrow. You know they have an app for that?”
“My parents once had a motorboat. A Chris-Craft Catalina.”
For twenty-four hours, anyway.
“I’m thinking more along the lines of a sailboat. It’s been a while.”
“You know how to sail?” She raised an eyebrow. “Not a lot of ocean in Orlando, last I checked.”
“We have lakes. I don’t do it much these days, but there’s nothing like being out on the water. It really clears your head.”
“Sounds nice,” she said wistfully. “I bet it’s meditative.”
He hesitated. Then—
“Join me? It’s a three-hour sail out of Key Biscayne.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she did her best to play it cool. “Yeah?”
“Two is always better than one.”
“That sounds perfect, but I’m not sure I’d be much help,” she said.
“I have plenty of experience for both of us. Besides, Key Biscayne seems like a calm bay—more lake than open sea. A great place to learn. What do you say?”
He smiled. It was the kind of smile that should come with a warning label. And that dimple. That maddening, unfair dimple. What else could she say to a man with a dimple like that except yes?
“I’d love to,” she told him.
The song faded. She glanced back at the crowd; she needed to check on her mother, so reluctantly she excused herself. Walking away, she traced a finger along her palm, his touch still warm against her skin.
A sailboat ride.
Just the two of them.
Was this a date? In any other world that’s what she would have called it. With Reza, though, she didn’t want to prematurely name it something it wasn’t.
Nearing her mother, Hena’s pace slowed. Ammi was hunched over. Gita crouched by her side.
“I’m fine,” her mother said through gritted teeth as Hena joined her.
“Frida. Enough is enough. A bit of Percocet will do the trick. I think—”
“You will not tell me what I can or cannot do. Understood?” Ammi snapped.
Hena flinched at the familiar sting of her mother’s words. Judging from the ashen look on Gita’s face, this tone was new to her.