The Marriage Game

by Sara Desai

  Layla’s mother lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t think she needs our help.”

  Layla felt the same prickling feeling she’d had as a child when she was caught doing something wrong. “You must be tired, Mom. Don’t let me keep you. I’ll just finish tidying up here and I’ll meet you at home.”

  Mehar Auntie left to start the car and Layla followed her mother into the restaurant.

  “We’re having a family dinner on Thursday to celebrate your father coming home,” her mother said. “Everyone is invited, including the man in the closet.”

  Layla’s blood drained from her face. She didn’t even try to lie. “He was in a car accident. I was fixing him up. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “I already have the wrong idea, but if you think he’s a good man, and he cares about you, then he will come to meet the family and declare his intentions.”

  Layla opened her mouth to tell her mother Sam didn’t eat Indian food, and closed it again. Her mother wouldn’t understand. In fact, no one she knew would understand. Family was everything. Traditions were important. No matter how bad things got, you didn’t cast them aside.

  “He’ll be there,” she said with a conviction she didn’t feel in the least.

  “I thought you weren’t dating anymore,” her mother said. “No more immature, selfish boyfriends. No more heartache. Your father and I were going to find a nice man for you—someone stable and serious who would be a good husband and father.”

  “I know. I found Dad’s list.”

  Her mother frowned. “What list?”

  “He posted my marriage résumé online and sorted through all the responses to come up with a list of ten suitable candidates. I’ve been meeting with them.” It felt good to get the secret off her chest, but her mother didn’t seem to be happy that she had been trying to find a husband the traditional way.

  “And the man in the closet? Is he one of them?”

  “No.” She swallowed hard. “He shares the office upstairs with me. He’s the guy Dad had leased the space to before he decided to give it to me. He runs his own corporate restructuring business.”

  Her mother patted her hand. “Meet the other men. If your father picked them, then they will all be nice boys.”

  “Sam is nice,” she said feeling defensive. “He’s funny, protective, and kind and—”

  “He’s hiding in the closet.”

  “That’s because I pushed him in there and asked him to stay.” She glanced around for Mehar Auntie, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

  Her mother sighed. “In all the years I’ve been with your father, never once have I wanted to hide him away. I was proud to call him my husband. You should feel proud of the man you choose to marry.”

  “I’m not marrying him.” She fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “We’re just . . . I don’t know what we’re doing. There was an issue with the office, and a game we were playing . . .”

  “I don’t like the sound of him.” Her mother pushed open the front door. “And I don’t like how you don’t know what relationship you have, or that you feel the need to hide it. If he’s just a one-night man—”

  “One-night stand,” Layla corrected, although she didn’t know why. “And no, he’s not that.”

  Sam was much more than a hookup, but where did he fall on the dating spectrum? She suddenly realized they’d never had a serious talk about their relationship, or what it meant for her search for a husband, or even how they were going to deal with the office when Royce returned. Now that her mother was asking the difficult questions, she couldn’t believe she’d made her search for a husband into a game. There were bigger issues at stake than who got the office. She was looking for someone with whom to share the rest of her life.

  “The family will meet him and tell you what they think.”

  Layla didn’t have to bring Sam to dinner to know what they would think. Her mother already had a bad impression of him. And if he didn’t eat with them, the family would think he was disrespectful. Not only that, once they found out about her father’s list, they would tell her to forget Sam and choose one of the men her father wanted her to meet.

  “Don’t forget why you came home,” her mother said over her shoulder. “Not to go back to jobs that made you unhappy and men who couldn’t commit. You came to rebuild your life and put the past behind you. That won’t happen if you lose sight of your goals.”

  “I like him, Mom.” She followed her mother into the parking lot. “He’s different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Then bring him to dinner on Thursday,” her mother said. “And let us see if he is worthy of my Layla.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “BREAK out the champagne!”

  Seemingly oblivious to the fact that there were other people training in the gym, Royce shouted Sam’s name as he wove his way through the punching bags, free weights, and cardio machines to the ring where Sam was sparring with Evan. Out of place in his pin-striped suit, pink shirt, pink and navy polka-dot tie, and a pair of sharply pointed tan leather shoes, Royce had a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other, despite the fact that it was seven A.M.

  “What are you doing here?” Sam’s moment of distraction earned him a solid punch to the jaw, and he staggered back into the ropes.

  “What the fuck, man?” He straightened and glared at Evan. “I was talking to Royce.”

  “When you’re in the ring, you are in the ring. Fair game. Unless you want to tap out, and then I win.”

  The last thing Sam wanted was to let Evan win. For the first time ever, he had gained the upper hand in a fight and he could almost taste the victory that he’d been denied for years.

  “Gimme a minute, Royce.” He shook his head to stop the ringing in his ears.

  “We’re on the short list for the Alpha Health Care contract!” Royce didn’t give minutes. He was all about Royce.

  Sam sucked in a sharp breath. What had once seemed to be an unattainable goal was now within sight. He threw a victory punch that Evan easily avoided.

  “That’s not all,” Royce said, leaning against the ropes. “The rumors were true. The short list is for all five hospitals. Your pitch plus my connections, a couple of faked missed strokes on the golf course, and a little white lie equal one hell of a team.”

  “What white lie?” Sam heard the whistle of air. Pain exploded in his cheek. He hit the mat, saw stars. Or were they dollar signs?

  “You lose again, dude.” Evan crouched to help Sam up. “Want to go another round?”

  “Are you kidding?” Royce said. “He doesn’t have time for fights. We need to make a plan. Everyone on the short list is scrambling to impress the board. We need to stand out from the crowd.” He popped the cork and poured the bubbly. “Evan, old friend, grab a couple of glasses for you and . . .” He waved vaguely at John. “This guy, whoever he is.”

  “This is John Lee,” Sam said. “He’s an attorney in the law firm on the top floor of our building.”

  “Hello and good-bye, John Lee.” Royce poured champagne into one of the plastic glasses Evan had procured. “We’re going to need your office space for our expansion once we have wined and dined Alpha Health Care into our pockets.”

  John folded his arms across his chest. “We have a ten-year lease with the current landlord. We aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Does the restaurant downstairs have the same lease?” Royce filled the final glass, splashing droplets of champagne on the mat.

  “I haven’t seen it so I don’t know the terms. But I can tell you they are there for the long term. Their son, Dev, was a friend of mine. He bought the building with a few friends as an investment and they leased the top floor to my law firm, and the bottom two floors to his parents so they could move their restaurant from Sunnyvale into the city. They spen
t a small fortune on renovations.”

  “Hmmm.” Royce twisted his lips to the side. “A minor hiccup, but not an insurmountable one. I promised Sam I’d do what it took to get that contract, and that’s exactly what I’ll do.” He handed out the glasses. “And now that the sad story is over, let’s toast to the success of Bentley Mehta World Corporation. Don’t hold back. I’ve sent another few cases to the office.”

  Sam’s heart sank. “You’re back in town?”

  “Are you kidding? You’re damn good on the business side, but you’re no rainmaker. People skills are not your forte. You threw the pitch and I’m going to bring it home.” Royce tapped glasses with Sam. “Cheers.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “SAM.” Daisy glared at him when he walked into the office after his workout. She’d streaked her hair an angry shade of red that matched her lipstick, and with the death metal shirt and studded bracelets on her arms and neck, she looked every inch the Hell Demon her shirt proclaimed her to be.

  “Daisy.” He nodded a greeting, clueless as to what he’d done to irritate her today but determined not to let her bring down his good mood. Tonight he was going to embrace his desi side again. Now that his company was on the Alpha Health Care short list, he could start looking forward, not back. The Patel family dinner was the perfect opportunity to finally let go of the past and show Layla his true self. He felt something for her that he’d never felt before, and he wanted everyone to know.

  The office was the only thing that stood between them. He’d already contacted a real estate agent and made an urgent request to find new space in the same general area. If they won the Alpha Health Care contract they would just have to move, despite the prime location. And if they didn’t, he would just have to sell Royce on the benefits of a new office, because he wasn’t going to lose Layla over a game.

  “I’ve left some contracts on your desk,” she said tightly. “And I’ve rescheduled the meetings with Bachelors #7 through #10. It’s all in your calendar.”

  Puzzled, Sam frowned. “I’m pretty sure Layla would have canceled the rest of the blind dates.”

  “She told me to reschedule them.” Daisy’s lips curved. “You may want to bring a change of clothes when you meet Bachelor #10. He’s a yoga instructor. Your tight pants might tear when you’re in firefly pose. Remember not to go commando.”

  Sam’s stomach tightened into a knot. Why was Layla still going ahead with her search for a husband? He’d opened up last night at the bar. Bared his soul. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d told anyone he wanted more than a one-night stand. Thinking about the rest of the evening now, he realized she had been uncharacteristically quiet after talking to her mom. She’d turned down his offer to spend the night, telling him she needed to go through the paperwork from her father’s office. Maybe it was the truth. Or maybe she’d had second thoughts after he’d exposed his failings and almost crashed the car. Maybe she didn’t think he was worthy after all.

  Daisy let out an impatient breath. “Anything you need me to do today, or should I just watch you stand there staring into space?”

  He finally bit the bullet. “Is something wrong?”

  “You coming to a family dinner tonight is all sorts of wrong, but other than that everything is peachy.” She pulled a dog treat out of her bag and offered it to Max, who was curled up in his basket beside her desk.

  Sam drew in a deep calming breath and took a mental step back to the blissful moment before he’d walked in the door. “We found out this morning we were short-listed for the Alpha Health Care contract. Royce is in town and he wants to wine and dine the clients. Could you find a good restaurant that will take a big group on short notice? Talk to Royce about dates and venues. I’m sure he has some ideas.”

  “Sure thing, boss man.”

  Sam couldn’t think of anything more entertaining than watching Royce and Daisy butt heads, but he needed to get Layla out of the office in case Royce stopped by. Royce would be less than understanding if he saw her at his desk, and the last thing Sam wanted was for Layla to get hurt. Again.

  • 20 •

  “ARE you sure you’re ready for tonight?” Layla reached up to rub Sam’s shoulders like he was a prizefighter, sliding her hands down his arms to squeeze the muscles bulging under his suit jacket. The scent of his aftershave mingled with the scent of the body wash that they’d used when they’d showered together, and she was tempted to drag him back into his bedroom and have her way with him all over again.

  “I’m ready.” He straightened his tie, adjusting the perfect knot.

  “That was a nice, but naughty, way to celebrate getting short-listed for your big contract. I wish I had more time, but my mother needs help cooking the big family dinner.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. Sam had spirited her out of the office on the pretense of going for coffee, but instead had her drive to his place and they’d spent the afternoon in bed.

  “It’s about more than the work.” He turned and put his arms around her. “One of the hospitals that is restructuring is St. Vincent’s where Ranjeet works. If we get the contract, I’ll have access to his employment file. I’ll be able to find out what really happened in that stairwell, and if there is a cover-up, I’ll be able to expose it. Nisha will have her justice.”

  Warning bells rang at the back of her mind. “Is that ethical? Don’t you have to declare a conflict of interest?”

  “I’ll do what it takes to get Nisha the justice she deserves.”

  “It may be what she deserves, but is it what she wants?” Layla tried to choose her words carefully. “I can’t imagine that she’d be happy if you went to jail or lost your job for something that seems like a long shot at best. She seems to be moving on with her life. Do you think she wants to start digging up the past?”

  Sam bristled. “It’s my job to protect her. I failed her before; it won’t happen again.”

  “Is this about Nisha or you? It sounds like you still blame yourself for her injuries.”

  He stiffened and pulled away. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

  Layla winced at his harsh tone. She’d pushed him too far. Maybe that was a truth he wasn’t ready to face. All the justice in the world would mean nothing if he couldn’t forgive himself.

  “I’m sorry. I just want you both to be happy.”

  After they finished dressing, they climbed into Layla’s Jeep. Sam was still waiting for his insurers to decide whether his car was worth saving and she’d volunteered to chauffeur.

  “You’re really going to do this?” Layla asked as the engine roared to life. “Eat Indian food? Does that mean if I play ‘Tattad Tattad,’ you might also get up and show us some Bollywood moves?” She loved Ranveer Singh’s energetic dance number from Goliyon Ki Rasleela Ram-Leela, a Bollywood remake of Romeo and Juliet.

  “I’m hoping to be too full to move.”

  “What’s your favorite food? I can’t believe I never asked you before.”

  “Masala dosas. Hands down.”

  Layla winced inwardly as she pulled out of the parking lot. Her mother had a special recipe for masala dosas that involved fermenting the batter for the savory crepes for eight hours. But the real trick was to cook them so they were both thick and had a golden crust. It was a skill she had never mastered. But this was Sam’s first Indian meal in years, and his first time meeting the family. The least she could do was try to prepare his favorite dish herself. “I’ll make sure you have some.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me, too.” She forced a smile. All he had to do was win over her family.

  How hard could it be?

  * * *

  • • •

  “TRY again, beta.” Layla’s father scraped the burned dosa out of the large cast-iron pan. Her mother had brought the pan with her from India, entrusted to her by her
own mother when she left home.

  “Why is it so hard?” Layla wiped the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve. This was the third dosa she’d ruined, and she felt bad wasting the batter her mother had prepared earlier in the day.

  “Everything needs to be perfect.” He cleaned out the pan and seasoned it again. “Temperature, seasoning, and you need a light hand when you spread it. You want it to be crunchy on the outside but damp inside.” He sat heavily on the stool her mother had brought into the kitchen for him. Only a few days out of the hospital, he tired easily and was thinner than she’d ever seen him in his life.

  “Are you okay? Is it the pacemaker? Do we need to go back to the hospital?”

  “Stop worrying, beta. It’s all good. Probably just the body adjusting to something new, or maybe the heart feeling full to be in my kitchen with my family again.” He glanced down at the pan. “Batter now.”

  Layla poured the batter into the pan, drawing circles with the back of a tumbler to create a large crepe. “I’ve made coconut chutney, green chutney, and red chutney to go with it, as well as sambar.” She pointed to the souplike side dish that was one of her favorite accompaniments to masala dosas. The journey through the dips with their hints of salt, heat, sour, and spice were what made masala dosas special.

  “I hope Sam appreciates all your hard work.” He leaned over to eye the crepe. “I liked him when we first met. He was very well mannered, intelligent, straightforward, and very serious.”

  Layla laughed. She had told her father about her dates with his list of suitors and how she’d become interested in Sam. He had been surprisingly relaxed about the fact that she hadn’t liked any of his choices, despite all the time he’d spent whittling down a list of hundreds to those ten men. “You make him seem dull.”

  “Not dull, but he kept his emotions inside, unlike us Patels, who let them all out.” He looked again at the pan and shouted, “Now! Pour now!”