by Alisha Rai
“And I have been cooking all day. I still have some things to finish.” Adil Uncle gestured to a cheese tray on the counter. “Why don’t you take that in to them in the meantime?”
Jia might have been insulted that neither of them wanted to meet her family, if she wasn’t quite familiar with the taste of anxiety and the fear of a poor reception. She placed her hand lightly on Dev’s arm. She almost got distracted by said arm, but caught herself in time. “I understand you might want to clean up, but it would be nice if you could come quickly. I’ve never done anything like this before and I’d like to have some friendly familiar faces from Dev’s side of the family in the room.”
Luna gave a fake yawn. “I’m kind of tired.”
Yes, she’d have to put in a bit of work to win the teen over.
Adil Uncle rubbed his neck. “I’m sure your parents are mostly here to meet Dev’s grandmother.”
Ah. Knowing what she knew about Dev’s parents and the contention between the two sides of his family, she wondered if Adil was a little insecure about his place. “They are here to meet all of Dev’s close family. You’re his elder. And frankly, they’ll have more in common with you. Your presence would probably put them at ease.”
“What Jia said,” Dev agreed gruffly. “Can you please go get dressed quickly?”
Adil opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the back door banging open. A dark-haired man walked in. He looked like a lighter-skinned version of Dev’s late brother. He was dressed in bright orange swim trunks and a purple tank top.
Jia didn’t need an introduction. Arjun. The infamous, annoying Arjun.
Her hand curled into a fist at her side.
He appeared as startled to see them as they were to see him. His surprise flipped quickly to alarm when Dev took a step forward. “I was just getting my dinner and going upstairs!”
Adil cleared his throat and launched into motion. “Come, Luna. Let us get ready.”
“But I don’t—”
“No. We must be quick, your uncle and aunt are correct. Come on.” Adil helped her down and shuffled her out.
With no witnesses in the room, Dev took a step toward his cousin and growled. Straight up growled.
Oh damn, that was sexy. She hadn’t known he could growl.
Dev said something in Hindi, and Arjun’s face fell. Though she knew he was an actor and probably a manipulative asshole, given what he’d done to her, she couldn’t help but feel a beat of compassion for him.
Jia gave a mental sigh. As far as logistics went, she couldn’t avoid Dev’s family member, not if they were going to be together. She took a step toward Arjun. “I presume you’re the cousin.”
The man shuffled his feet and put his head down. At least he had the grace to look shamefaced. “I am.”
“I changed my mind. I’d like an apology.”
He took a deep breath. “I am extremely sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Why did you do it?”
Arjun looked at Dev, as if to confirm that he could speak, and Jia snapped her fingers. “Look at me, please.”
He turned his gaze back to her. He really was a handsome guy, with his floofy hair and perfectly sculpted smooth face. She preferred Dev’s stern bearded look any day.
“It started off as a prank, with Rohan. And then, afterward, I think I thought I was helping Dev get a girl, because he needs to marry—”
“Enough,” Dev said quietly.
Arjun hung his head. “Anyway, there’s no excuse. I’m so sorry.”
Jia regarded him with frustration and annoyance. He sounded sincere, and matchmaking for Dev was a weirdly noble, if terribly misguided, act. When—if—she and Dev married, it wouldn’t make sense to hate his cousin. She had to somehow make peace with the guy, but she was still so angry with remembered mortification.
What would her sisters do? Her twin would forgive and forget. Noor and Zara would spend the next forty years passive aggressively poking at the guy. Sadia would quietly poison him and bury him in the ocean.
Jia had her own style, though, and she was learning how to embrace it. “Can I throw something at you?” Jia asked politely.
“I’m sorry?”
“I think I’d feel much better if I could throw something at you.”
Arjun looked at Dev askance, and Dev shrugged. If she hadn’t been standing so close to her fiancé, she might have missed the flash of impish glee in his eyes. Perhaps he also wanted someone to throw something at his handsome cousin. “I think that’s the least you owe her.”
“Fine,” he said. “But not the fac— Ugh.”
Jia put Luna’s now empty glass of milk back on the counter. “Sorry, did you say not the face?”
Arjun wiped the milk out of his eyes. “Yes. It’s okay, though.”
“Thank you, that was quite nice.” She paused. “I’d prefer it if you could stay away from dinner tonight while my family’s here, but I am willing to accept your presence in passing otherwise. But you need to be on your best behavior. Are we clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you are never, ever to do something like this to another woman.”
“I promise, I will not.”
She waved her hand at him, as regal as any queen. “You may leave.”
Dev waited for Arjun to slink out of the room. “That was beautiful,” he said with great admiration.
Jia preened. “Thank you.”
“You’re going to make an excellent bhabi.”
Jia faltered. She hadn’t thought about that, that she’d be Arjun’s sister-in-law. “I hope so.”
“I know so.” He squeezed her. “Come, let’s get back to our families.”
DEV’S GRANDPARENTS’ HOUSE parties had been legendary events, still talked about decades later. Tigers and magicians and elephants and world-famous musical acts had been the bare minimum for Shweta and Vivek Dixit.
This was a far more muted affair, just his and Jia’s families, but his grandmother was firmly in her charismatic element. She sat at the head of the table like it was a throne. Her silver-shot hair was pulled back in a bun, her red sari vivid and hand embroidered, and a shade brighter than Jia’s.
She’d been beautiful as a young woman, but Shweta was still stunning in her seventies. Her big dark eyes were lined with a touch of kohl, and a subtle blush colored her cheeks. Someone had mastered the no-makeup makeup look, clearly.
And you have watched far too many of Jia’s videos, Dev thought. Then, No such thing as too much.
He’d worried for no reason. Luna had been quiet, but had tolerated the elder Ahmeds fawning over and complimenting her. Adil Uncle had been warm and welcoming. And Shweta had Farzana and Mohammad eating out of the palm of her hand since the second she’d swanned into the room. “Mrs. Dixit,” Farzana began, and Shweta immediately interrupted her.
“Call me Shweta. Mrs. Dixit was my mother-in-law, and Dev can tell you, she was terrible.”
Dev had never met his great-grandparents, but his grandma often bent the truth for a good one-liner.
“Shweta,” Farzana breathed now. “I wasn’t permitted to watch many Bollywood movies as a child, but I always snuck yours. It is an honor to be sitting here.”
“Yes,” Mohammad agreed. Jia’s father was a man of few words, but his distracted air hid a sharp gaze.
Shweta resettled her body. “Thank you both. And thank you for coming. I was dying to meet you . . . and Jia, of course.” Her dark gaze settled on Jia. “I’ve heard much about you, my dear. I have so many questions for you.”
“I’m an open book,” Jia said.
“Your parents and sisters are all physicians. An admirable middle-class profession. Why did you not go this route?”
Dev pressed his lips together, hoping the Ahmeds were fine with being classed as the bourgeoisie. Everything was middle class to his grandmother, he supposed.
Jia took a bite of her potatoes. “I wanted a career in entertainment
.”
“In making ten-minute videos, generally about your face or body.”
Dev tensed, ready to intervene if his grandmother got snarky or cruel.
Jia looked amused rather than insulted, like she was quite accustomed to someone mocking her work. “Yes.”
“I have watched some videos on there. One where you show how to wing an eyeliner with a, I believe it was a . . . bobby pin.”
“I went viral for that one,” Jia said good-naturedly.
Shweta raised a thin eyebrow. “And you prefer this to saving lives like your sister?”
Dev opened his mouth to put a stop to the line of questioning, but it was Jia’s mother who jumped in. “We are very proud of all our daughters.” Farzana smiled sweetly. “Are you not also in entertainment? Jia merely forged her career in a new medium.”
“Excellent point. There is something to be said for reaching the public directly. I would have liked to bypass the casting agents and producers when I was young.” Shweta’s mouth twisted.
“You were quite the trailblazer,” Jia said softly.
“Being a trailblazer is hardly fun. You would know that, of course.”
Jia’s eyes widened. “I would?”
“Of course.”
Farzana took a bite of her food. “Adil Bhai, this curry is amazing.”
His uncle looked up from his plate and gave a soft smile. “Thank you, but, uh, Auntie made this one.”
“With Adil’s final approval. He kindly volunteered to make everything else. Jia, do you cook?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then you are lucky to have Dev’s uncle living with him. He is a fine chef.” Shweta took a naan from the basket on the center of the table.
Jia smiled warmly at Adil. “Yes, I can’t wait to sample more of his food.”
“We are, indeed, lucky.” Dev regarded his grandmother. She was being so kind. It wasn’t that she was normally unkind, but he’d never seen her go this far out of her way to be nice. That it was to the brother of the woman her son had run away with made it even more peculiar.
Adil’s shoulders relaxed and his smile grew stronger. “Thank you.”
“Dev, you’re not eating.” Shweta smiled at him. “Is something wrong?”
He shook his head and ripped his roti in half. “No.”
“It’s a shame Arjun couldn’t join us,” Farzana said to Shweta.
“Yes, he said he wasn’t feeling well. You will meet him tomorrow. He is a very good boy. He took time off from his movie to come travel here with me.”
Dev hoped his snort of disbelief didn’t reach his grandmother’s ears.
“He’s very talented, as well. He takes after his grandfather,” Shweta added. “He will be cast as a movie hero for many years to come.” Dev didn’t think his grandmother had meant that as a dig on his television career, but he couldn’t be sure.
“This one, on the other hand,” Shweta waved at Dev. “He’s come to America to do more television.”
Oh okay. He was sure now.
“I like television, and some actors in our country would kill to be a crossover star,” Dev said. He ripped his flatbread in half.
“We both know you went into television to be different from the rest of us. And star is the key word. You’re a villain, not the hero.”
He wasn’t surprised at all Shweta knew what his role in Hope Street was. She had influence everywhere.
“Villains are admired in this country,” Mohammad pointed out. “He could be quite the lovable bad guy.”
Not with my one-note story, I can’t. “We shall see. Aji, why don’t you tell us about any new projects you have going on?”
Mohammad’s eyes lit up. “Are you acting?”
Shweta shook her head. “No, no, I retired long ago. I’m executive producing three films and a serial now.”
A serial? “Since when are you doing television?” Dev placed the same intonation on the last word that Shweta had.
“Since I realized there was money to be made there.”
“Which serial is it? I keep up on quite a few of them,” Farzana confessed.
“A new one.” Shweta launched into an enthusiastic description, just as Dev had hoped she would.
He let the conversation flow around him for a bit. The elder Ahmeds kept it going, for which he was grateful.
When the plates were cleared, and a cake brought to the table, Shweta finally addressed the younger generation. “Ayesha, your mother tells me you’re considering an arranged marriage. What a good daughter. Congratulations. This is how marriages should be done. None of these love matches.”
“Three of my daughters had love matches. I am glad Ayesha’s sensible.” Farzana gave her second-youngest daughter an approving look, which Ayesha returned with a slightly annoyed shake of her head. This clearly wasn’t meant to be dinnertime conversation.
Jia spoke up. “Ayesha isn’t doing it to be a good daughter. It’s what she actually wants.”
He’d quickly picked up on the dynamic between the twins, and as someone who had mostly been an estranged elder child, Dev was fascinated by the way they were interconnected. Jia stood up for Ayesha, often working as her mouthpiece or the distraction. Ayesha sweetly and quietly took the attention off her sister when things got too negative for her.
Farzana waved off Jia’s explanation. “It doesn’t matter why. It is good. We will start meeting boys soon.”
Shweta stroked the stem of her wineglass. “Make sure you look past pretty faces, yes? Because I can assure you, my dear, that fades quickly.”
Ayesha flushed. “Of course.”
Shweta nodded in approval. “Good. Take the physical out of things completely. That is another thing the children these days rush, their physical needs.”
Dev choked on his drink of water. “Aji.” He tipped his head at Luna, who had stopped playing with her food instantly at the word physical. “Luna, are you finished eating? Why don’t you go to your room?”
His niece pushed back from the table. “Can I see if Arjun Kaka wants to play video games?”
Mentally, he sighed. He’d be annoyed at his cousin for a while, but Luna did like her uncle. “Yes.”
Shweta looked between him and Jia consideringly as Luna left. “You may have a fourth love marriage on your hands, eh, Farzana?”
Farzana’s laugh was coy. “Oh, if I did, it would be fine. Dev is an accomplished young man.”
“We weren’t thrilled with being caught off guard with the engagement news, but meeting you and Dev has been a relief,” Mohammad added. “We’ll have to start thinking of wedding dates.”
Jia straightened. “We haven’t gotten that far,” she said hastily.
Shweta picked at her cake. “I don’t see why not. That’s your generation’s problem. You date until all the mystery is gone, until you hate each other. Ridiculous. If you meet someone you like, you should marry them and be done with it. Then if you have problems, you have to deal with them and can’t go anywhere.”
“What a lovely description of marriage,” Dev said. “Not prisonlike at all.”
“One of the new movies I am producing is set in a college. Kids these days, younger than these two, they are going around, sleeping together, never seeing each other again after. There is no permanency anymore.”
Farzana gasped. “Jia! Is this right?”
“No!” Jia grimaced. “Uh, we are not . . . we haven’t . . .”
“That’s enough, Aji,” he said softly.
“Apologies, Jia. Of course you and my grandson would never be so wild.” Her smirk was more than a little disbelieving. “I am merely saying, best to have the marriage quickly. You two do like each other, yes?”
Dev was caught off guard by how quickly Jia said, “Of course we do.”
He met her eyes. “Very much so.” More than he should. More than he’d planned to.
“Then you should just get married now.”
Jia let out a little laugh. “You mean
a trip to Vegas?”
“No need for Las Vegas.” Shweta looked around the home. “We can do it right here. Tomorrow.”
Farzana laughed, then quieted when she saw Shweta was straight-faced. “You can’t be serious.”
“She’s not,” Dev said sharply. What on earth was his grandmother thinking?
“I very much am.” Shweta pressed her hand to her chest. Her dark eyes welled up with tears. “You see, if we don’t do it now, I may never get to see the ceremony.” She paused dramatically, but not long enough for Dev to prepare himself for her next words. “I do not have long to live.”
The indrawn gasp was collective among those at the table, and Shweta nodded, satisfied with that reaction. “Yes.”
Dev was the only one who didn’t outwardly react. Bullshit. If she was really sick, she would have told him immediately upon his arrival.
Farzana was the first to speak. “My God. I am so sorry.”
Shweta inclined her head. “Thank you. I trust you won’t speak of this to anyone.”
Because it’s a lie.
“Of course not.”
“Do you know how long . . . ?” Mohammad asked delicately.
“I don’t know.”
Dev shifted, surprised to find a trace of panic strumming through his veins. His grandmother wasn’t actually dying. He could tell when she was acting, what her tells were. So why was his upper lip sweating? “Aji,” he said sharply.
Pressure squeezed his thigh. Jia squeezed again, looking up into his face worriedly. He gave a small nod, trying to tell her he was okay. Only he wasn’t sure he was.
“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. Perhaps you can visit our home while you’re in America,” Mohammad suggested. “I work at a large teaching center.”
“I don’t think any experimental treatments can help me now. But thank you.” Shweta looked back at Dev and Jia. “Anyway. That’s why it would be nice to see at least one of my grandchildren taken care of before I go.”
“I absolutely understand that,” Farzana said. “But I do not think Dev and Jia are quite at the point where they can get married so quickly. Like you want the best for your grandson, I want the best for my daughter.”