What am I thinking? He had spent most of yesterday rehashing all the poor choices he’d made in life, and today he’d made two more spectacularly bad decisions: the first to crash Pooja’s wedding, and the second to get involved with Divya’s escape. Last night he’d been at his condo in Los Angeles, unable to sleep. He barely recognized the furniture in the place, let alone remembered how to operate the overly complicated coffee machine. He owned a condo in every major city where he had to spend time for his business. He was tired of hotel rooms, yet none of these condos was home. The closest he’d come to feeling grounded was living with Pooja for three months. But when he’d been with Pooja, all he’d been able to think about was all the things that didn’t work in their relationship. After she’d left, he’d been unable to stop thinking about how great things could’ve been between them. He’d woken up in a cold sweat this morning, wondering whether he’d die alone in one of his ubiquitous condos. Living on his airplane, jetting from city to city was getting old. He wanted a place where he belonged; he wanted…