by Maisey Yates
Sameer chimed in. “There were all kinds of conspiracy theories. Somehow the Indian media latched on to the idea that you and Ethan were planning a secret takeover of our family business to overthrow Arjun.”
Divya gasped. Such a thing was unfathomable, but she could see how the media could get out of control. Family feuds were the bedrock of Bollywood movies.
“Arjun and Dad had to fly overnight to India to calm the shareholders,” Sameer said, his voice suddenly quiet.
Divya’s head hurt. How could she have been so irresponsible? If she’d stopped to think about her actions, she would’ve seen all this happening. Arjun hadn’t gone to India for Karishma’s college graduation because he didn’t want to leave Simmi, yet he’d had to leave his wife and baby because of her. Her chest was uncomfortably tight. She barely heard everything else her siblings had to say.
“I should check my email,” Divya said weakly.
Sameer nodded. “That would be good. We’ve had some problems with the contracts for the new hotel in Washington. I could use your help.”
Knowing that she had a lot to catch up on, her siblings left as soon as she opened her laptop. She turned on her regular phone, which Karishma had thoughtfully plugged in. There was no way she could possibly get through all of the text messages, but she sent replies to Hema and her close friends, letting them know that she was okay and promising to talk to them soon.
As she immersed herself in her work email, she didn’t notice the buzzing of the phone Ethan had given her. She’d discovered that Sameer had downplayed the disaster he and Arjun had to deal with. Investors were threatening to pull out of their new project in DC, and several urgent contracts that she had prepared before the wedding remained unsigned. Sameer had been worried about her and hadn’t been able to focus on the work. She’d seen this pattern before: first his work suffered, then the pressure of catching up got to him. If she didn’t take over now, he would spiral, and once that happened, recovery took months. She had to stop it before it got worse.
I’ve only been thinking about myself.
Karishma reappeared, holding a tray of tea and snacks. “We’d better start getting ready for dinner.”
Divya gasped as she realized that hours had gone by. She guiltily grabbed Ethan’s phone to see several missed messages from him. “I need to go see him,” she said to Karishma.
“Div, dinner is only an hour away. You can wait that long, can’t you? Or are you all hot for him?” She hugged herself and made kissy faces.
“Stop! I need to talk to him before he comes over here. Cover for me.” With that, she stepped outside to the balcony and looked down at the great room to make sure the coast was clear. Ethan had texted her his room number and she went straight down. Arjun had given him one of the best suites in the hotel.
As soon as she arrived, Ethan pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I was afraid you’d forgotten about me already.”
Tears stung her eyes. “We need to talk.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ethan didn’t need her to spell it out for him. He saw it all over her face. She’d been sucked back into the family fold.
“I love you.” It’s all he had left to say to her.
She sniffed. “And I love you. Change of plans.”
“We’re switching from a Bollywood plot to a Hollywood one?”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I need to prep you for dinner with my parents. They know we’re involved. They are going to grill you about—”
He kissed her. “Divya, I got this.”
She stared at him. “You don’t understand. Things have to be…”
He looked into her deep dark eyes, trying to tell her without words that he’d do anything for her, that he finally understood what it meant to love someone. She had shown him how real relationships worked. She’d brought him closer to his family; now it was time for him to do the same for her.
She looked at him uncertainly. He cupped her face, then bent his head and pressed his lips softly to hers. “I’m ready.”
One thing was clear: if Divya was going to be happy with him, her family had to accept him.
* * *
Divya put on a conservative black dress, did her makeup and added the right amount of jewelry. When she went downstairs, it was clear that her mother approved. She was the last one to arrive. Everyone was dressed somewhat formally. Even Simmi was wearing a cute red dress and had a little bow in the few wisps of hair on her head.
Divya’s stomach churned. She’d forgotten to tell Ethan to dress up. His standard-issue jeans and polo would not go over well. She rubbed her temples. This is going to be a disaster.
The table was set for dinner, and waiters stood in the corner ready with a tray of samosas and pakoras. She looked at the time and cringed. Ethan was a minute late.
The bell rang and she rushed to answer it, but one of the staff beat her to it. Her heart stopped when she saw him. He was wearing a perfectly fitted black suit with a French-cuffed shirt. Wow. Even though she’d just seen him a half hour ago, she needed to touch him. To make sure he knew that she loved him.
Arjun stepped forward to greet Ethan, and her heart swelled at the sight of her brother shaking Ethan’s hand and slapping him on the arm. Her parents were standing by the living room couches, and Arjun escorted Ethan to them. “I don’t think we formally introduced everyone,” Arjun said good-naturedly. Divya guessed that Rani had talked to Arjun, perhaps reminded him how difficult it was for them when they first announced their love.
Ethan stepped to her parents and bent down and touched their feet. Divya gasped. She hadn’t briefed him on pairi pauna, an Indian tradition where you touched the feet of your elders as a show of respect and to get their blessings. She’d never expected Ethan to understand an archaic custom like that, nor had she felt comfortable asking him to do it. Rani had told her all about the first time she’d met Divya’s parents. Arjun had asked her to do pairi pauna and Rani had felt disrespected. Being Indian, she didn’t agree with the custom. Divya never expected Ethan to understand.
She leaned against the wall to steady herself, her knees suddenly weak. A hushed silence fell in the room. Her mother’s hand instinctively touched Ethan’s head in blessing, just like it would when Arjun or Sameer touched their feet. Divya could almost see her mother’s heart melting.
“What would you like to drink, Ethan?” Sameer broke the stunned silence.
“A beer would be great.” Divya did a mental face palm. She’d forgotten to tell him about the family drink.
“I’m sure room service has some,” Sameer said easily.
“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Ethan amended.
Sameer handed Ethan a tumbler of whiskey. Ethan gallantly took a sip and tried not to grimace as he swallowed. Divya noticed Sameer also had a tumbler in his hand and she frowned. He wasn’t supposed to be drinking. While he was addicted to painkillers, his therapist had warned her that any substance use could cause a relapse.
The waiters circulated with the appetizers, but no one seemed hungry.
“He’s really hot, especially in a suit. I hope you’ve seen him without all those clothes?” Karishma whispered. Divya shushed her before their mother’s owl ears caught wind of their conversation. Her parents still thought she was a virgin. It had always galled her that they never had that expectation of her brothers, but now was not the time to dwell on the gender hypocrisy in her family.
“Tell us, Ethan, how is it that five days ago, you professed your love in front of all of us, thinking Divya was another woman, and now you’re here to convince us that we should trust our daughter to you?” Apparently her mother wasn’t going to give Ethan a chance to settle in.
Divya silently pleaded with Ethan to go with the story she’d concocted: that Pooja was his best friend and had asked him to save her from the weddin
g. Ethan was facing enough judgment just being American.
“There’s this notion of love at first sight. It seems irrational to believe in something like that. It feels like it only happens in films. I was indeed trying to break up my ex-girlfriend’s wedding, but that’s because I’d talked myself into wanting to love her. I’d lost hope that I’d find the kind of love I was looking for. And then I met Divya.”
Divya sighed. She knew Ethan meant well. He was trying to be genuine, but he had no idea what he’d just done.
* * *
“Wah! Karan Johar couldn’t have written a better line.” The sarcastic comment came from Divya’s father. Ethan had no idea who Karan Johar was, but now was not the time to ask.
Divya had warned him to expect her parents to be blunt, and they clearly weren’t wasting time. Not even a minute or two of polite small talk? He didn’t want to play the games Divya had suggested. He wanted to be honest with her parents. If he and Divya were going to have a future together, he needed to develop a relationship with her parents too. He’d spent his entire life feeling like an outsider in his family; he would not be the man who created a rift with hers. He would win them over. He had to.
“How do you know this time it’s real, and you’re not mistaken again?”
“Dad,” Divya said pleadingly.
“Why don’t we sit down to dinner?” The soothing compromise was offered by Rani, who was struggling to hold on to her wiggly baby while carrying a bowl of baby food.
Divya took the baby from Rani’s arms, expertly turned Simmi around and settled her on her hip, giving her a kiss on the head, all in one move. The baby giggled and extended her pudgy little hands to touch Divya’s face. Ethan’s chest constricted. Everything he ever wanted was right there next to him. He just had to be strong enough to get it.
Rani took the baby back from Divya and settled her into a high chair. She waved for everyone to take their seats. Divya motioned to Ethan, who took a seat next to her and grabbed her hand under the table. She quickly pulled it out of his grip. All eyes were on them.
“If the whiskey isn’t to your liking, we can order some beer,” Arjun said, nodding towards the still-full tumbler Ethan had set down on the table.
“It’s great,” Ethan responded and lifted the glass to his lips, his stomach curling at the smell of the whiskey. He could almost see his dad sitting at the dining room table, glass in hand, barely looking at him as he signed the papers disowning him. His own father hadn’t wanted him. How did he expect Divya’s family to accept him?
Six waiters appeared, each carrying a different dish. They went from person to person, ladling food onto their plates. Ethan swallowed the bitter-tasting whiskey.
“So, tell me, Ethan. Why do you want to date a girl from India? Surely there are plenty of American women who’d be interested in you. Someone you have more in common with.” Divya’s dad’s tone was friendly but his eyes stared Ethan down.
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.
CHAPTER 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 g
allant 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.”