First Comes Like

by Alisha Rai

  Mohammad cleared his throat and bared his teeth. “I don’t have any stuck lettuce, do I? I knew I shouldn’t have had a salad for lunch.”

  Was her dad starstruck too? “You’re fine, Dad.”

  Their mother considered her husband’s teeth with more care. “Yes, you’re good.” Farzana straightened her shoulders. “Best behavior, girls.”

  She and Ayesha exchanged a glance. “Um, can someone press that doorbell?” Jia suggested.

  Farzana jumped. “Yes, I shall.”

  Jia shoved her hands into the pockets of her dress to keep from picking at her nails. Her dress was modest enough for their mom, but it was also a bright sunshine yellow. The color gave her courage, and she needed it for this, meeting her fake fiancé’s world-famous grandmother.

  The door opened, and they were greeted by a smiling woman in plain clothes. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” Mohammad’s voice went up and he cleared his throat. “I am Dr. Ahmed.”

  The woman inclined her head and stepped aside. “Come,” she said, and they followed her into the home. “I will—”

  “Ahmed family. Welcome.”

  The deep, throaty voice made them all jump. They looked up the stairway, and Jia did a double take. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from a Bollywood legend, but the woman with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in leggings and an oversize tunic, all of which was smudged with dirt, wasn’t it.

  Jia’s father was the first one to break the spell. “Mrs. Dixit,” he said, and the reverence in his tone startled Jia. She’d never heard her father speak like that to anyone. “You need no introduction. I am Mohammad Ahmed, this is my wife, Farzana, and our daughters, Jia and Ayesha.”

  Shweta’s gaze moved over each of them. “You may call me Shweta,” she said in Hindi, and unfortunately, that exhausted most of what Jia knew in Hindi.

  “Our daughters only speak English, unfortunately,” Farzana said regretfully, like it was her greatest shame in life that she hadn’t raised bilingual children.

  Shweta raised one eyebrow. Damn. Jia only hoped her eyebrows remained that perfect when she got to Shweta’s age. “Not even Urdu?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm.” Shweta came down the stairs with an old world grace. “Did you have a good drive?”

  “Lovely. We took the long way and drove all along the coast.” Mohammad’s voice was hoarse.

  “How nice. Apologies for my appearance. I was repotting the plants on my balcony when I saw you arrive.”

  “Please, we came off a long flight,” Farzana said. “We are the ones who are rumpled.”

  Shweta looked between Jia and Ayesha. “Which one of you is Jia?”

  Jia took a step forward. “I am.”

  Shweta looked her up and down, and Jia felt stripped naked in that pause. “Hmm,” Shweta said again. “I like your dress. I wore that exact color to an award show last year. Bright colors are appropriate for a pretty girl like you.”

  Jia blinked at the compliment. So much for her mom always trying to shove her into pastels. “Thank you.”

  “Is your grandson not here to greet us?” Farzana’s forehead started to crease.

  “I am afraid he went to the store. He expected you later. He’ll be here shortly. Why don’t we all go freshen up in the meantime?”

  “Yes, that would be perfect.” Farzana nearly curtseyed.

  Shweta turned to her employee. “Pinky, can you show the Ahmed family to their rooms please?”

  Pinky inclined her head and they followed her up the stairs. When they got upstairs and looked out the huge windows, Mohammad let out a little hum, and Farzana and Ayesha gasped at the pure blue ocean in the backyard. Jia didn’t make a noise, but she was moved by the sight too. Oh, to wake up to that water every day.

  Someday. When she owned her own makeup company, she’d buy a place like this. She’d give a lot to charity, she tacked on in her own head, and then she’d buy a place like this.

  Their parents were shown to one room, and she and Ayesha were put right next door. Her sister didn’t even give Jia a chance to appreciate the view before she whirled on her. “I hate this.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “No, I really, really hate this. This is a terrible idea, Jia.” Ayesha wrung her hands. “I can’t believe you’re going along with this engagement.”

  “What’s the alternative? I tell everyone those texts aren’t between me and Dev?” Jia flipped open her suitcase and pulled out the dresses she’d bought to wear over the next couple of days. She hoped Shweta approved of the red shalwar kameez she’d chosen for dinner.

  Ayesha stomped over to her own bag. “You could say you’re not engaged, at least. I’m worried about you, you doofus. I can totally see you getting married because you’re stubborn and don’t want to tell Mom that you screwed up.”

  “Lower your voice,” Jia hissed. “You know she has, like, a sonar when it comes to us talking about her.”

  Ayesha pulled out her clothes. “You know I’m right.”

  “You’re not right. For the record, both Dev and I know we can pull out at any time before marriage. Or even after.” She almost tacked on a ribald joke, but Ayesha wasn’t in the mood. “And secondly, I’m not doing this to please Mom or anyone else.” She was past that. She was evolved now, thank you very much.

  Pleasing herself caused way less stress than trying to please everyone else. It was like she’d taken a dial and turned down all the noise in her brain. She could finally hear herself think.

  “I cannot believe you’re actually considering marrying him.”

  Jia shrugged. “It wouldn’t be so bad. I could do a lot worse.”

  “That’s not a ringing endorsement, that he’s not the worst you can do.”

  “Okay, he’s probably the best I could do, is that better?”

  Ayesha crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah? What’s so great about him?”

  “He’s perfect.”

  “No man is perfect.” Her sister said the words with such world weariness, she sounded like Rhiannon. When this was all over, Jia hoped she could introduce her family to her second family.

  “He is. He’s kind and has this really dry sense of humor.” She paused. “He cracks me up, actually. He seems all stern at first glance, but underneath that seriousness, he’s a sweet pussycat. He let me win at Scrabble.” Jia shook her head. “And did it in such a charming way, it didn’t hurt my pride one bit.”

  “Hmm. What else?”

  Jia stretched to hang her clothes in the closet. “Oh, he’s great with his niece. She lives with him, and he is so patient. He takes her to school every day and helps her with her homework at night.”

  “How does he feel about your work?”

  “He loves it. He even takes photos for me. He treats me like I’m actually a serious businesswoman and not a—” She caught Ayesha’s look. “What?”

  “Wait a darn second. You like him.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Ayesha clasped her hands over her mouth. “No. You liiiiiiiiiike him.”

  Jia glared at her sister and shushed her. It wouldn’t do for their mom to hear she liiiiiiiiked her fiancé! “Very mature.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Ayesha rested her arm on the bureau. “This is going to make a great storytime someday for you. Talk about content.”

  Jia growled. “Quit it.” Quit telling the truth.

  “What’s wrong? I think it’s sweet that you’re falling for the man you got maneuvered into a fake relationship with.” Ayesha squinted. “Weird, but sweet. Why didn’t you tell me this before? If you’d said, Ayesha, I’m madly in love with this man and can’t wait to make out with him, then I wouldn’t have worried. Of course I’ll help you close this deal now.”

  Jia groaned. Sisters. “You stink. Why don’t you shower first?”

  Ayesha’s mood had undergone a 180. She walked to the bathroom, whistling a jaunty tune. “Jia and Dev, sittin’ in a tree
. . .” She ducked without turning around, and the pillow Jia had thrown smacked right into the wall. “Stop damaging your future in-law’s house,” Ayesha chided her.

  “I’m gonna damage somebody. Hurry up.”

  “Why, you want to see your fiancé?” Ayesha made kissing noises and crossed her arms over her chest until they wrapped around her.

  Jia picked up another pillow, but Ayesha kicked the bathroom door closed on her laugh.

  DEV HAD WANTED to be at the house to greet Jia and her family, but his uncle had insisted he go to the market to pick up some items for the dinner he’d seized control of cooking. Since Adil had been uncharacteristically quiet over the past twenty-four hours, Dev hadn’t wanted to deny him his fresh spinach. He’d rushed home as soon as he’d gotten the texts that she’d arrived earlier than planned.

  He made a quick stop to drop the groceries off in the kitchen. Adil Uncle greeted him when he entered with a grumbled, “About time.”

  Dev didn’t take offense. The older man had cooking stains on his apron and a general frazzled air about him. His uncle might be more nervous than he was, though he wasn’t sure why. “I came as quickly as I could. Is Luna with Aji?”

  “Yes.” Adil Uncle peered into the bag of groceries, and gave a satisfied grunt. “Yes, good, you got what I needed.”

  “And Jia? Did you meet her and her family?”

  “Not yet, though I believe your grandmother did.”

  Damn. He’d wished to be here to facilitate that meeting. He hoped his grandmother had checked her imposing nature for a minute. “It would have been better for you to greet her, since you’ve already met,” he murmured.

  “I don’t know about that.” Adil Uncle busied himself emptying the bags. “In any case, I believe Pinky showed them to their rooms. I think I saw Jia leave the house a few minutes ago. She was headed for the beach.”

  Dev glanced out the window and caught a flash of pink. Protocol dictated he greet her parents immediately, but these were unusual circumstances, and he’d like to see her first.

  He’d gotten more nervous as the day went on. He tried to tell himself that her parents were normal people, who did normal people things, but he was still worried. “Thank you.”

  Dev pushed his shirt sleeves up as he went outside. He’d dithered over what to wear. He’d gradually relaxed his wardrobe around Jia, but this wasn’t just Jia he was meeting, now was it? So he’d donned slacks and a button-down shirt, despite how warm it was today.

  He slowed as he approached Jia. She wore a pink shalwar kameez and matching hijab. Her feet were buried in the sand. “Jia,” he said, but she didn’t turn around.

  Perhaps she couldn’t hear him over the sound of the ocean. “Jia,” he said, louder now, and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder.

  She stiffened and dropped her hand over his. Dev couldn’t tell the sequence of events of what happened next, except that he flew through the air and landed facedown, the wind knocked out of him. He rolled onto his back, coughing sand out of his mouth.

  “Oh my God.” The woman who had sent him airborne crouched down next to him, and now that her face was visible, he could see this was not Jia, but a very good facsimile of her. Ayesha.

  She pulled a headphone out of her ear. “Dev? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “What on earth is going on?” Jia’s strong voice carried over the beach. He turned his head slightly. She wore a blood-red dress adorned with embroidered flowers.

  Since they weren’t alone and since he couldn’t talk yet, he tried to convey comfort and reassurance through his look, though he wasn’t sure if he accomplished that goal. Hard to accomplish anything when one’s lungs had been squeezed flat.

  “He startled me,” Ayesha explained.

  He placed his hand on his chest and wheezed. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to. I thought you were Jia. I said your name. Uh, Jia’s name.”

  Ayesha grimaced. “I was blasting my music kind of loud.”

  Dev came to a seated position. The sand was firmer than it looked. “That was an impressive throw.”

  “Fun fact, Ayesha’s a black belt.” Jia’s smile was small and apologetic. “It’s a bad idea to startle her.”

  “What is happening down here?” An older couple came into view and Dev mentally groaned. So not only had he startled Jia’s sister bad enough that she’d karate tossed him, now he had to meet her parents sprawled on the ground with his clothes all sandy.

  Dev came to his feet and dusted off his pants. “You must be Dr. and Dr. Ahmed. I’m Dev Dixit. I apologize for not being here when you arrived.”

  “Hmmm.” Her father regarded him with a disapproving frown. “You came home and decided to come play in the sand instead of greeting us?”

  “He wasn’t playing in the sand. I accidentally tripped him,” Ayesha said in a rush.

  Their mother’s eyes widened. “Ayesha. How could you do that?”

  Mischief danced in Jia’s eyes. “Yeah, Ayesha. How could you do that?”

  “I startled—” Dev started to explain, but Ayesha cut him off.

  “I am very clumsy.”

  Mohammad shook his head. His clothes were similar to Dev’s, slacks and a button-down shirt, sans sand. “Apologies on behalf of our daughter, Dev.”

  “It was my fault,” he assured them hastily, extending his hand. Then he saw it had sand on it, so he pulled it back and tried to wipe it surreptitiously on his thigh.

  “What a gentleman you are,” Farzana crooned as she looked him up and down. He’d been on the receiving end of that calculating look from aunties before, so it didn’t faze him too much. This time, actually, he welcomed it. Her parents liking him would make this all easier on Jia.

  “Shall we go inside?” he suggested. “We can relax in the living room until dinner.”

  “That would be nice.”

  They walked to the house, Jia at his side. So much for talking to her first. He let his pinkie brush against hers, hoping to convey some comfort.

  “I understand you parent your niece, Dev,” Mohammad said, and Dev tucked his hand close to his side guiltily. “We would love to meet her and your uncle, as well.”

  “I do, yes.” They entered the back door, which led directly into the spacious living room. He gestured to the seats. “Please make yourselves at home. I’ll go fetch them.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Jia said, her tone bright.

  Her mother frowned and opened her mouth, presumably to stop the two of them from going off alone, but Ayesha spoke up. “Mom, is that a Picasso?”

  “Where?”

  Ayesha winked at Jia and led their parents to the wall, and Dev smiled. He’d forgive his future sister-in-law for tossing him into the sand if she could keep running interference like this.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  JIA RELEASED the breath of anxiety she’d been holding as she walked next to Dev. When she’d first come across him lying on the sand at Ayesha’s feet, she’d met his dark gaze for one pregnant moment. She’d never been able to speak with someone in a look like she did with Ayesha, but it was so easy with him.

  Are you okay? his look asked, though he was the one vanquished on the ground.

  As well as can be.

  Don’t worry.

  I’ll try.

  She stopped walking, and he turned to look at her. She stared at him for a long moment, then launched herself into his arms and buried her face in his neck and inhaled. Dev’s hands smoothed down her back, so his fingertips rested on the curve of her butt.

  She wanted him to go lower, and just the fact that that thought popped into her head was enough to have her pulling back. They stared at each other, and Dev finally smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  He pressed his forehead against hers. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.” Oof . . . this was getting sappy, and she loved every second of it.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Remarkably well.�
� This was stressful, but it had become ten times less so when he showed up.

  “Good.” He held out his hand. It was an odd thrill to hold his hand, one she hadn’t really experienced with another man. She felt secure and happy, having him in her grip.

  “Come, let’s find Adil Uncle, and then we can track down Luna. It would be good for you to see her one-on-one before she meets everyone.”

  Because she was going to parent the girl when they got married. Phew.

  If you get married.

  Jia snuck a look at Dev’s elegant profile. It was weird how their marriage had become far more certain in her head as time went on.

  They entered the gourmet kitchen to find both members of Dev’s household. Adil was tossing gummy bears at Luna, who was catching them with her mouth.

  Jia straightened, trying to calm her sudden renewed nerves. In one sense, it was easier to face a Bollywood legend over the man and child who lived with her new fiancé. It seemed the stakes were higher with these two, as far as them liking her went.

  “How many times have I told you two not to play this game? You could choke,” Dev said, in greeting.

  “I’m not going to choke,” Luna said to Dev, but then she caught sight of Jia, and her eyes widened. “Uh, hi.”

  Jia gave her brightest smile. She’s nervous, too. She’d raised hundreds of thousands of young women via the internet. Surely, she could win this one over. “Hello, Luna. It’s good to see you again. And you, Uncle.”

  Dev’s uncle gave her a bright smile. He was dressed in a stained apron, which surprised her a little. She’d assumed Shweta Dixit would travel with a gourmet chef to tend to her, but except for Pinky and a silent man who had moved their car for them, Jia hadn’t seen any servants. “Hello, Jia. I am glad we could meet again, especially under such good circumstances. You look lovely, MashAllah.”

  Dev shifted. “Jia’s family is in the living room. Come, why don’t we all go sit with them.” Dev’s suggestion was more of a command than an invitation, but neither of his family members moved.

  Luna cleared her throat. “If you’ll notice, I’m covered in dirt. I was gardening with Aji.”