The Marriage Game

by Sara Desai

  “I’ll watch.”

  “You need to experience it, Sam. You can’t live your life at a distance.” She rolled her hips and danced a few steps, her hands stretching in the air. “Put your first two fingers together and place them on your thumb so your hands look like little wolves, then turn them up and twist into flowers. It’s easy.” She made the gesture. “Come on, lone wolf. I’m putting it in manly wolf terms for you. If the Khans can dance, so can you.”

  Sam seriously doubted his skills were on par with the Khans, two of Bollywood’s most famous leading men. And how could he dance when Nisha could never dance again? How could he find joy in a fountain that represented a freedom she could never have? “Flowers aren’t manly,” he protested.

  “Fine. You just stand there and wallow in your masculine pride. Cue the music so I can dance.” Her hands flowed from hips to waist and then up to her shoulders as she practiced her moves. She was breathtakingly lovely, but it was the light in her face that drew him in—a joy he desperately wanted but could never possess.

  “Imagine the water flowing through the pipes.” She circled one arm and pointed with the other at the nearest open tube. “Imagine being young and riding the waves through the darkness and then exploding into the light.”

  Sam was imagining a lot of things as she undulated in front of him, and none of them involved being a kid.

  “Do you see the beauty?”

  “Yeah.” Mesmerized, he watched her dance. “I see you.”

  “Come on. Dance with me.” She held out her arms and he took a step forward, yearning for the freedom she offered, the beauty and joy she could find in a moment.

  “Sam! Look out.” Layla ran at him, hitting his body with such force, he stumbled back. His arms wrapped around her to keep them both from falling, just as a skateboarder shot out of the darkness. Momentum carried them into one of the angled legs of the fountain, the force of their landing reverberating through the structure with a low hum.

  “Idiot!” Sam shouted at the skateboarder. “Watch where you’re going.” His pulse pounded in his ears so loud he could barely hear.

  Layla drew in a shuddering breath. “Are you okay?”

  He adjusted his grip, pulling her closer, enjoying the warm, soft comfort of having her in his arms. “Yes. You?”

  “I’m fine.” A slow smile spread across her face. “I saved you. Like Katniss saved Peeta in The Hunger Games.”

  “So now I owe you my life? Is that it?” he teased. Layla made him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel. She made him think about things he’d buried years ago. She was redemption made real. But was he worthy of being redeemed?

  “You owe me something.” Her arms wound around his neck, soft breasts pressing against his chest. Her eyes softened, lips parted, head tilted back . . .

  There was no resisting that plea. He crushed her to his chest, head dipping down. Their lips touched . . .

  “Sam!” A woman’s voice rang through the shadows. “I’d recognize that sexy butt anywhere. Why didn’t you call? I missed you.”

  The hair on the back of Sam’s neck stood on end. No. It couldn’t be . . .

  “I can’t do this.” Layla pulled away. “Not again.” Before Sam could stop her, she climbed out of the fountain and ran into the night.

  Sam moved to follow, but a taloned hand gripped his arm, holding him fast. He caught a whiff of Eau de Musk and his stomach clenched.

  Karen.

  “I’m so glad I bumped into you,” Karen said. “I need your help. I got fired.”

  • 12 •

  IT was standing room only in the function space at Redwood Hospital. Layla’s father was awake, but with visitors strictly limited to two at a time, the Patels had rented the room so everyone could have a snack while waiting their turn to visit.

  “This is chaos.” Pari Auntie shook her head. “So much shouting. So little respect. Nasir’s sisters should see him next, but I saw Nira and Vij sneaking down the hall.”

  “I think they were going to get more plates.” Layla looked around at the tables heaving with food, kids running around, cousins pranking each other, aunties arguing, and uncles trying to figure out how to get more power to the hot plates. It was no different from any other family gathering, except that her father wasn’t around to take control.

  Pari Auntie’s head jerked to the side, and she shouted at Lakshmi Auntie, who was holding a lighter to a small bundle of incense. “Lakshmi! I told you. No fires. I don’t care if flames will give him twenty years of good luck. If the sprinklers go off, we’ll have to leave and no one will get to see Nasir.”

  “Pari! Your boys are fighting,” Charu Auntie called out. “They just knocked over a bowl of gulab jamun. Someone find a mop. We need an extra table for food. Turn down the music. There are sick people down the hall.”

  Layla’s heart sank when she saw the boys rolling on the floor. Nadal Uncle and Hari Uncle were trying to pull them apart. This would never have happened if her father had been here. Someone needed to take control. Wrangling rowdy relatives was far outside her comfort zone, but then so was running a business, and if she wanted to make it work, she needed to practice taking some risks.

  “Quiet, please!”

  Unbelievably, the noise stopped. “I’ve just come from my father’s room,” Layla said. “He’s doing better, although he tires easily and can’t speak yet. Visits will be limited to five minutes with everyone going in pairs. I’ll hand out numbers. Charu Auntie will be in charge of letting people out.”

  “Numbers one and two,” Charu Auntie called out. “Taara, he can’t eat, so put that container away, and don’t even think about putting it in his IV. We want him to live.”

  “I’m going to play his favorite Bollywood songs on my phone,” Mehar Auntie said. “Zaina put them on for me. She’s such a smart girl.”

  “My boys are top of their classes,” Pari Auntie boasted. “Their teachers say they have never seen such clever, well-behaved children.”

  Nira Auntie lifted an eyebrow. “I thought they were suspended for setting fires in the restroom.”

  “They were innocent.” Pari Auntie waved a dismissive hand. “But they hang out with such rascals . . .”

  Layla knew all about rascals. Sam had barely been in the office in the five days following their moment in the park and the untimely arrival of his girlfriend. Or maybe she was an ex. Not that Layla cared. She’d been having so much fun with Sam that she’d almost forgotten why she’d decided to give up dating in the first place.

  But the brutal reminder, along with his absence and the resurgence of the distressing feelings that had led her to toss Jonas’s stuff off the balcony had just reaffirmed her decision to continue with the blind dates. Surely at least one man out of the ten would make a suitable spouse.

  “Good job. Your dad couldn’t have done better.” Layla’s mother joined her at the dessert table. Nothing was better in a stressful situation than a plate of Indian treats.

  Layla bit into a soft coconut laddu, a round sweet made of coconut cooked with khoya and condensed milk, shaped into round balls and stuffed with almonds and cashews. “Did you talk to the doctor?”

  “He said the pacemaker surgery went well, but we have to make sure not to cause him any stress. I told your father everything is fine. The restaurant is fine. Layla is doing well in her new business. Everything is good.”

  Layla opened her mouth to tell her mother about her blind dates, and closed it again. She had enough on her plate, and Layla was handling it well enough on her own.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She forced a smile. “Everything is good.”

  “And soon your father will be home, shouting that someone burned the dal.” She kissed the gold band on her ring finger, a wish for luck.

  The tender gesture made Layla’s heart squeeze in her chest. Her parents’ marriage had been arr
anged, and it was one of the happiest marriages she knew. Her father had once told her the day he met her mother was the best day of his life.

  “When did you know you loved Dad?” she asked.

  “It was hard at first because we didn’t know each other,” her mother said. “Then we became friends. We started the restaurant together, and shortly after we opened, Dev was born. When he was only two years old, I walked into the kitchen one day and saw your father teaching him how to grind spices. Dev could barely hold the pestle. Your father was so patient and kind. It was such a small thing. But when he looked up and smiled at me, I felt a different feeling. One that I knew would last a lifetime. Love doesn’t always hit like a thunderbolt. Sometimes it can grow quietly in the background until one day you realize it is there.”

  “Zaina! Come back with those jalebis!”

  Layla caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Zaina raced past, a handful of jalebis clutched in her little fist. Anika was in full pursuit. Layla grabbed for her and lost her balance. She stumbled forward, hit a table, spilling a bowl of kheer as she fell. The rice pudding splashed over her clothes before landing in a puddle on the floor. Undeterred, she jumped to her feet and sprinted after her niece, leaving a trail of rice and pudding behind her.

  So much for getting things under control. If this was the best she could do, what chance did she have with her business?

  * * *

  • • •

  “WHAT’S the matter, bhaiya? You’ve been very preoccupied today.”

  Sam pulled himself out of his thoughts and forced a smile for his sister. He’d brought her to the hospital for a consultation with the surgeon who had handled her spinal surgery. Although the surgeon had been happy with her progress, he hadn’t been able to tell them if Nisha would ever walk again.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You didn’t have to come if you had work to do. I could have managed on my own.”

  “The point is, you don’t have to.” His parents were away at a wedding, and he didn’t like the idea of Nisha using the disabled transport service and dealing with the doctor alone. It also gave him an excuse to stay away from the office. Layla deserved an explanation. He just had no idea what he was going to say.

  His body knew what his brain was only starting to admit. There was something between them that went beyond a friendly office rivalry or even a game—something real and raw that made him see every one of her blind dates as competition. Something dangerous for a man who couldn’t be trusted to protect the people he loved.

  “It sounds like someone’s having a good time.” Nisha smiled as they rounded the corner. “Oh, Sam! They’re playing ‘Choli Ke Peeche’ from Khalnayak! Who would be having a Bollywood party in a hospital?”

  “Stop!” A woman yelled. “Zaina! Get back here.”

  Seconds later a young girl barreled into Sam, hitting him so hard he staggered back a step. Jalebis scattered over the floor in front of Nisha’s chair. Sam put a hand on the girl’s shoulder to steady her and looked up just as Layla came running down the hall toward them.

  “Sam!” She pulled up short, eyes wide. Milky liquid and grains of rice dripped off her Smash Mouth T-shirt, and he threw out a silent plea that she had defaced the logo on purpose.

  “Is this yours?” He gently pushed the little girl toward her. He’d managed to avoid Layla since their encounter in the fountain by scheduling back-to-back meetings out of the office, and yet here she was, standing in front of him, covered in rice.

  “Yes.” Layla took the little girl’s hand and drew her close. “This is my niece Zaina.”

  “I lost my jalebis.” Zaina’s eyes filled with tears.

  “You go back into the room and I’m sure Jana Auntie will find you some more.” Layla sent her on her way before bending down to pick up the spilled sweets.

  “What’s going on?” Sam crouched down to help her.

  “My dad’s awake and we rented the function room so everyone could celebrate and go and see him.” She shrugged. “It turned into the usual family chaos.”

  Sam gestured to her dripping clothes. “You look like you just took a bath in a bowl of kheer.”

  “That is surprisingly accurate.” She brushed a few grains of rice off her shirt. “How’s your girlfriend? Sorry I didn’t stay for an introduction.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. We worked together on a downsizing.”

  Layla lifted an eyebrow. “What exactly did you downsize that involved the removal of your pants?”

  “Ahem.” Nisha coughed and he glanced up to see her watching them, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  “This is my sister, Nisha.” His stomach knotted with the uncomfortable feeling of having his personal life exposed. He rarely talked about his family with his colleagues and friends. John knew about Nisha, but had never met her, and Royce didn’t know he had a family at all. “Layla shares the office with me above The Spice Mill.”

  Despite the fact that Layla clearly needed a new set of clothes, she sat down on a nearby bench to talk to Nisha, a small courtesy for a wheelchair user that Sam didn’t often see.

  “I’ve always wanted to eat at The Spice Mill,” Nisha said.

  “You can have the next-best thing right here.” Layla gestured down the hallway. “We’re having a party to celebrate my father’s recovery. Most of the food is from my parents’ restaurant, with a few little extras from well-meaning relatives, but I can point out which dishes to avoid.” She gestured to her clothes. “And I’m afraid all the kheer is gone.”

  Nisha laughed, and they launched into a discussion about food that somehow turned into a discussion about clothes and how Nisha hadn’t gone to the wedding with their parents that afternoon because she didn’t have anything to wear—something she hadn’t shared with Sam. Suddenly plans were being made to take his sister shopping at Layla’s aunt’s store in Sunnyvale, and before he knew it Layla was accompanying his sister down the hall to the party room to make an introduction.

  What was going on? Nisha didn’t socialize. She went to rehab and her doctor’s appointments and then she went home. She’d retained a few of her old friendships, but most of her friends had stopped calling when she refused all their invitations.

  “Wait.” His head still spinning by the speed of events, he raced after them. “I’m sorry, Nisha. I have a business meeting. I need to take you home.”

  “I can take her,” Layla said. “I’ll borrow my mother’s car because my Jeep will be a bit of a challenge for the transfer. It’s no problem.”

  Sam frowned. “You know about transfers?”

  “My grandmother was in a wheelchair most of her life. She got polio when she was young. We all learned how to help. Nisha will be safe. Trust me.”

  How could he not trust her? She had just seen the most private, cherished, and personal part of his life and had embraced it. Instead of just politely greeting Nisha and walking away, she had befriended his sister and welcomed her into her family.

  “I’ll be fine, bhaiya.” Nisha smiled. “I want to stay with Layla.”

  And in that moment, so did he.

  • 13 •

  “BACHELOR #5 is Harman Babu . . .” Daisy read from her phone as they dashed up the stairs, late to the office after helping with the lunch crowd in the restaurant. “Age thirty. Manager of Sports World Fitness Club. Professional bodybuilder. I think he’s got two extra soda cans packed into those abs. I just want to lick him all over. Can I have him since you’re getting busy with Sam?”

  Layla groaned inwardly, regretting her decision to tell Daisy about the almost-kiss. “It was a mistake. I saved him from a skateboarder, the adrenaline was pumping, things got out of hand, and then Karen showed up . . .”

  Daisy snorted a laugh. “Karen. He so doesn’t belong with a Karen.”

  “Well, she seemed to think he belonged with her, and
he didn’t come after me. I think that made things pretty clear.”

  So why couldn’t she stop thinking about how safe she’d felt in his arms, or how warm his breath had been on her lips, or how caring and sweet he’d been with the sister he had never mentioned before? She was looking forward to their weekend shopping trip. Nisha had been great fun and Layla’s family had loved her.

  Sam was waiting in reception, all cool and casual like he hadn’t avoided her for five days only to show up at the hospital with a secret sister and disappear again for the rest of the week. “Harman wants us to meet him at his gym. Apparently some recruiters showed up and he’s afraid to leave in case they want to talk to him. He’s okay with me—”

  “It’s fine. I don’t need you,” Layla blurted out, trying not to think about their almost-kiss and how stupid she’d been to think it was anything more than a mistake. He hadn’t even tried to explain about Karen when she’d seen him in the hospital.

  Sam snorted his disapproval. “I promised to meet all the suitors with you, and I don’t go back on my word, especially when we’re in the middle of a game that I intend to win.”

  Her heart sank. Of course. It was still about the game. The almost-kiss clearly meant nothing to him. She was just another Karen.

  She glared at him, but it was hard not to notice how gorgeous he looked today. His crisp white shirt was open at the collar, revealing a hint of richly toned skin, and he had rolled up his sleeves, baring tanned forearms lightly dusted with hair. Layla had never thought of a man’s forearms as being particularly sensual, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away when Sam pulled out his phone.

  “Let’s get going,” she said. “My Jeep is parked out front.”

  “I’ll drive.” Sam held out his hand.

  “It’s my car. I’ll drive.”

  Sam bristled. “I’m the man.”