Ethan took a breath. “Divya and I have a connection, we understand each other. Where we’re from doesn’t matter as much as how we feel about each other.”
“That is a very naive view of the world. Do you think it won’t matter that you two come from very different worlds, that your culture, your traditions are nothing alike?” Rani’s mother could freeze lava with the ice in her voice.
“Culture and tradition don’t define who we are. Our values do. I was also raised in a very close-knit family. No matter where I am in the world, I always go home for all family birthdays and special events. My parents have an incredible relationship, and that’s what I want.”
“How long did your parents date before they got married?” Divya’s father was not cutting him any slack, but Ethan was no slouch. He hadn’t built his company into a billion-dollar empire by being a pushover. But the stakes had never been this high.
“How long did you and Mrs. Singh date before you were married?” He knew the answer to that question, which is why he asked. Divya’s parents had an arranged marriage. They had never gotten the chance to date, but from what she’d told him, her parents genuinely loved each other and had built a successful life together.
Divya’s mother didn’t miss a beat. “Our marriage was based on a firm grounding of shared values and expectations. Our families knew each other. We were raised with the same traditions, wanted the same things out of life, understood how our lives would work.” She took a breath. “Tell me, in which country will you live? Where will you raise your children?”
“Ma, we’re only dating. We haven’t even talked about marriage. These details aren’t that important right now,” Divya said, exasperated.
“No, Divya, these are the decisions that tear families apart. This is exactly why we prescreen boys for you. We have generations of experience in these matters, but you kids only think about today. Now you are dating, tomorrow you will want to get married and then you’ll have children. Will your children be raised Hindu or Christian?”
“We will teach them both of our religions,” Divya said.
“I’m agnostic,” Ethan answered at the same time.
“You see. These are not trivial things,” her mom said smugly.
“Ethan, why don’t you tell us a little more about your family,” Arjun said diplomatically, and Ethan released a breath, glad to be on to a safe topic.
When he was done with describing his family, Divya’s siblings asked him impersonal questions about his business, clearly trying to ease the tension around the dinner table. At some point, Sameer and Karishma deftly moved the conversation to easy topics like movies and politics. Without thinking, they slipped between English and Hindi as they spoke, Divya included. When they weren’t grilling him, the family had an easy way with each other, and he had to keep himself from staring at the beautiful smile on Divya’s face when she looked affectionately around the table.
At one point, Naina asked him a question, and he had no idea she was speaking to him. Divya elbowed him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
Naina smacked her head. “Sorry, Ethan, we don’t even realize when we’re speaking Hinglish.”
He smiled gamely. He was used to being the odd man out, the one who didn’t fit in. He took another bite of chicken. It burned his throat, and the whiskey soured his stomach.
“You haven’t eaten much, Ethan. The food not to your liking?” Divya’s mother asked.
He knew it was irrational, but he could swear she could read his mind. “The food is great. I’m just enjoying the conversation.”
She scoffed. “A conversation you only half understand, just like this family. You’ve only seen one side of Divya.”
Anger surged through him. It was one thing to question his motives but another to insult him. He turned to Divya, expecting her to stand up for him, to say something to her parents, but she resolutely avoided meeting his gaze. A familiar ache settled into his chest. Divya didn’t know it right now, but she was going to reject him, just like all the other women in his life.
Nineteen
“Let’s have dessert in the kitchen,” Rani suggested. Divya shot her sister-in-law a grateful look. It hadn’t been easy for Rani to fit into the family, but she’d found a way to take control of her house. It would eventually be okay with Ethan too. Wouldn’t it?
The kitchen island was far more informal than the dining room table and it would help Ethan relax. She’d felt the tension in his muscles all through dinner. She’d tried to warn him about how difficult her parents could be, had told him how to handle things. But he was ignoring her advice. Did he want to sabotage this dinner?
It was a large island with several counter chairs. Rani excused herself to put the baby to sleep. The staff served chai, coffee and kheer, an Indian rice pudding that Ethan seemed to enjoy. Divya made a point to keep the conversation in English. She hadn’t realized just how much they spoke in Hindi. Sameer made a gallant effort to keep the conversation on neutral topics. It felt stilted, as it had at dinner. Divya thought about Gauri’s comments about her American sister-in-law. Would it always be awkward to have Ethan around her family?
After dinner, Arjun directed Divya and Ethan to the study for a nightcap. From the look on Ethan’s face, he would rather have drunk more whiskey. The study was cozy with book-lined shelves, a couch and two leather chairs around a coffee table.
Ethan and Divya were left alone. She didn’t need to hear what was going on outside the study to know that her siblings were being dismissed and her parents were plotting.
Ethan reached for her hand, but she eyed the door. “While I’d like nothing more than to throw you down on that couch and kiss you senseless, I know PDA is not okay. I just want to touch you for a second.”
She smiled and took his outstretched hand. He pulled her closer to him.
“You’re doing great,” she said.
He smiled. “You’re a really bad liar.”
She looked into his impossibly blue eyes. “You can do this.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“You have to.” She’d meant it as a joke, but her voice held a high, desperate note. He placed his forehead on hers and she leaned into him.
“Divya!” Her father’s shout as he and her mother entered the room made Divya jump away from Ethan like he was radioactive.
She took a seat in the leather chair, forcing Ethan to take the other chair. He couldn’t resist touching her, and her mother’s eagle eyes wouldn’t miss how physically comfortable they were with each other.
“So, Ethan, what do you know about Divya’s new singing career?” Her mother could teach a class in making a loaded question sound friendly.
Ethan exhaled while she tensed. He had no idea what was coming. “I think she’s incredibly talented.”
“Do you think it’s a respectable profession?”
Ethan frowned. “I think it’s a legitimate career, just like being in business. Entertainers in this country are highly valued.”
“So you’d be okay with Divya wearing skimpy clothes and dancing around a stage while drunk men ogle her.”
Ethan took a sharp breath. “That’s a stereotype of entertainers that doesn’t have to be true. Divya can do what she’s comfortable with, and I’ll support her.”
“So you’re the one who’s been encouraging Divya to pursue this crazy plan to give up her law career and become a singer,” her father said accusingly.
“He helped me understand what I wanted. He generously bought studio time so I could explore my musical abilities,” Divya interjected.
Ethan turned to her parents. “Divya has an amazing talent and deserves our support to pursue a new career.”
“Singing is a hobby. Divya, if you really want to pursue this, we can buy you all the studio time you want.” Her mother leaned forward. “You had your fun. It’s tim
e to come back to real life.”
Divya bristled. Her parents didn’t get to decide what she wanted for her real life. “This is something I have to do for myself, Ma. I want to live my life on my terms. The way I want.”
“Just a few days with this American and you’ve forgotten your whole upbringing,” her mother muttered.
“Mrs. Singh, I respect your culture and your point of view, but Divya is an intelligent, independent woman. She has the right to make her own decisions, to choose what she wants to do with her career and whom to date.”
“And as her parents, we have the responsibility to protect her from bad influences,” her father said pointedly. “Look, Ethan, in our family, you don’t get to date our daughter. We believe in old-fashioned values. You talk about respect. A man who cares about our daughter would show more respect for her family traditions.”
Ethan’s jaw clenched.
Divya tried to catch his eye, silently telling him that now was the time to pull out the engagement ring she’d asked him to buy and ask her parents for her hand in marriage. After a heavy silence that seemed to weigh them all down, her mother turned to Ethan. “Let us get to the point of this conversation. What is your relationship with our daughter? What are your intentions toward her?”
He straightened and looked both her parents in the eyes. “I love your daughter.”
Divya breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that the romantic way to do things was to propose to the girl on bended knee, but that’s not how it was done in Indian families. Ethan knew what a big deal it was for her to introduce someone like him to her parents. They needed to see that he wasn’t a stereotype, that he held the same values her family did.
“I hope we’ll have a future together. With your permission, I’d like to keep seeing her.”
Divya glared at him. What is he doing?
“Excuse me, Mr. Connors, our daughter is not someone you try out to see if she is to your liking,” her mother said icily. “Clearly, you don’t understand or respect our family values.”
Ethan stood. Every muscle in his body was rigid, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. “Excuse me, Mrs. Singh, Divya is not your property, and she does not need to put up with this. You have no idea what we share, and I will not let you insult her like this.”
Divya jumped from her seat and looked from Ethan to her parents and back again. What are you doing, Ethan? They had talked about this very scenario, and she’d reminded him that under no circumstances could he be rude to her parents.
Ethan had done everything she’d asked him not to do. It was as if he was purposely sabotaging the whole thing. Then it hit her.
She thought back to something Rajiv had said to her in New York. Now the words haunted her.
It’s not that he’s American. It’s that he doesn’t take relationships seriously. For him this is a game, an amusement.
When he’d gotten to Pooja’s wedding, he’d realized that he had been impulsive and didn’t really want to marry her. The same thing was happening now. He’d done what he always did when things got real. He’d pulled the safety parachute.
* * *
This was the moment when he’d find out whether their love could withstand the ultimate test. He had come with every intention to win over her family, but now he was clear on the fact that he would never win her parents’ approval. Not only that, it wasn’t the right environment for her. She loved singing; the day they had spent at the studio had energized and exhilarated her. Divya wasn’t a corporate lawyer, and if she stayed with her family, they would crush her spirit.
But could she stand up to her family? Could she give them up for him? If she had to choose, would she choose him?
He held out his hand to her. “Come with me, Divya. My plane is ready to take you anywhere you want to go, and I’ll be with you. I’ll take care of you.”
Time stopped. Their eyes locked and he tried to tell her how much he loved her, how badly he wanted her to choose him.
He didn’t know if it was a few seconds later or several minutes when Divya slowly shook her head and backed away from him.
“Divya, now’s the time to take a stand. Run away with me. Again.”
Her eyes shone. “Ethan, I can’t.” Her voice broke, and along with it, his heart shattered.
She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t him.
Twenty
Divya set her bag down and sat wearily on the old couch that she’d gotten at a yard sale. At least the temperature in New York City was much cooler than in Rajasthan.
She looked around the small apartment. Her bathroom at home was bigger than the entire five-hundred-square-foot efficiency, which included a galley kitchen, bathroom and bedroom/living room. The entire closet wasn’t even big enough for her shoe collection, but luckily all she’d come with was a suitcase worth of stuff and a Martin guitar.
This was the best she could afford right now, and she was fine with that. Arjun had offered to give her money, but she’d refused. Rajiv and Gauri had invited her to live with them. They were centrally located in Manhattan, and it would’ve made her life easier than commuting into the city more than an hour each way on buses and the subway. She had a small advance from the contract she’d signed with East Side Records, and for now, it was enough to pay the rent on this small place in New Jersey.
She ran her hand over the guitar. It was her only connection to Ethan. After he’d walked out on the dinner with her parents, she’d gone knocking on his hotel room door only to find the room empty. He wouldn’t answer her calls, texts or emails. Why wouldn’t he even give her a chance to explain?
The answer was plain as day. He’d realized he’d been impulsive again and done what he did best: give up.
It had been six months since that fateful dinner and not a day went by when she thought about whether she should have gone with him. But how could she have? She’d seen Sameer drinking that night at dinner, and she couldn’t leave without making sure he was okay. Her worst fears had come true when she’d found Sameer in bed the next morning, clearly hungover. She’d hoped it was just alcohol but knew enough from her research about addiction to know that he was in trouble. She had returned to India with her parents and siblings, to wallow in self-pity and watch over Sameer. Her parents assumed that she had come to her senses regarding Ethan. She’d slipped into her old life like a familiar pair of jeans that went with everything but felt a little too tight.
She searched Ethan’s name on Google every day, and while there were articles about his company, he had disappeared from public life. It was as if he’d been a figment of her imagination. Then a month later, the Martin guitar had showed up at her house in India. There was no note, but she knew what he was trying to tell her.
She’d been miserable in her regularly scheduled life. The work of lawyering brought her no joy. Her mother dragging her to social events made her want to scream. Then the guitar had arrived, and she’d realized that just because Ethan was gone didn’t mean that she had to go back to her old life. She had fled her wedding in search of her dream. A dream that could turn into reality. It was time to follow through.
She’d sent her demo to East Side Records and they had asked her to come to New York.
Sameer had still been lying to her about his addiction, and she’d finally called Arjun and told him what was going on with their brother. With typical take-charge efficiency, Arjun found the best rehab facility in the United States and flew Sameer there in the family jet. Sameer’s continued relapses had finally made her realize that she had done him a disservice by trying to manage his addiction herself.
She’d packed her bags, left her parents a note along with a special item for her mom, and bought an economy class ticket on a commercial plane to New York.
The album with East Side Records was being released next week.
Her phone buzzed with a video call from Sameer. She
clicked and greeted her brother. Sameer had stayed in the facility for ninety days and had been out for two months. “How’s the next Beyoncé settling into her new space?”
She grinned back at her brother, noting how great he looked. He’d been sober for five months, and she had nothing to do with it. “It’s a little basic, but I don’t need much.” She turned the camera to show him.
“Basic? Div, our servants live in better quarters than that. I don’t understand why you won’t use your bank accounts. Ma and Dad haven’t cut you off, you know. Stop being stubborn and call them. I’m sure they’ll come to the launch party if you personally invite them.”
“I sent them the invitation.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know who’s more stubborn, you or them.”
“I will not be held hostage emotionally.”
Her parents’ plan had almost worked. The entire time she’d been back in India, her parents had reminded her of her responsibility and duty to the family. If Ethan hadn’t sent the guitar, she would’ve slipped further into her old life. But leaving India made her realize that she’d faced her worst fear, and she was fine. As Arjun reminded her, he’d been forgiven for wanting to marry Rani, and eventually Divya would be forgiven too. She had to wait out their parents.
“Well, I am not staying in that dump when I come next week, but I do have a surprise for you that should be arriving any second.”
As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. She opened it and a deliveryman handed her a giant box from Naeem Khan, one of her favorite designers, known for his Indian-influenced dresses. She squealed and set the phone on the coffee table so Sameer could see her unbox it. “You didn’t!”
“My sister is not going to launch her first album wearing something off-the-rack.”
Divya pulled out the beautiful gown. It was pale pink with a sheer black layer embellished with intricate embroidery. She excused herself to put it on and it fit perfectly. The asymmetric neckline was striking, and the hem was just the right length for the heels that were included in the box.
Running Away with the Bride--An opposites attract romance with a twist Page 15