The Marriage Game

by Sara Desai

  “Are you kidding me? Not after he stood me up, although he did inspire me to think of my own brand.”

  “Baboo?” He clearly wasn’t going to let it go.

  “You kind of ruined me for Baboo—multiple times.”

  Sam gave a growl of satisfaction, puffing out his chest with masculine pride like he was solely responsible for the fact that she wasn’t a virgin.

  “And it’s not Salman, the restaurant owner,” she said quickly. “You never met him, but you were there with me in spirit. He had gang tattoos, bodyguards, and . . .” She cleared her throat. “One day, I’ll tell you how I escaped.” She picked up a tray from between her feet. “Garlic fry?”

  Sam stared at the boxes and containers on the ground. “How much food did you buy?”

  “Let’s just say that the empty seat beside me wasn’t really meant for a person.”

  Sam glanced around, like he still believed there was another man in her life. “Were there others?”

  “Just three. Sunil, a hedge fund manager, who wasn’t interested in marrying me, but just wanted to bang me. I thought about you before I walked out the door—”

  A smile ghosted his lips. “I wish I’d seen that.”

  “And then there was Bachelor #9, Akhil. He was twenty. Need I say more?”

  Sam held up a hand. “Please don’t.”

  “And finally Bachelor #10 was Sunny, the yoga instructor. But he’s vegan.” She held up her Super Duper Burger. “And you know how I like my meat.”

  “That’s it?” Sam frowned. “You said in your note that I won. According to the rules of our game, that means you have to marry someone from your father’s list.”

  “My dad added one more name.” She pulled out her phone and flipped to the marriage résumé that Nisha had helped her write. “I’ll tell you about him. Bachelor #11 . . .”

  Sam’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care who he is. You can’t marry him. You hardly know this guy. Does he make you laugh? Can he save you from a rogue deer? Would he make your elevator fantasies come true? Or save you from unwanted advances in a bar?” He grabbed his Giants jersey. “Would he betray his own team and wear this for you?”

  “Sam Mehta.” She read off the screen. “Age thirty-two. Arrogant. Stubborn. Controlling. Obsessed with lining up his pencils.”

  “Layla . . .” His voice was raw and rough. “What are you—?”

  “I don’t do the briefing as well as Daisy, but let me get through it. You need to know what you’re up against.” Emotion welled in her throat. Hopefully this was the last marriage résumé she would ever have to read.

  “Mother is a teacher,” she continued. “Father is a computer programmer. Sister, Nisha, who is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, is planning to become a lawyer. He has lots of degrees and credentials that mean he saves lives. He stays in shape doing MMA at the gym and beating up dudes who hurt the people he cares about. Very practical. No imagination. Couldn’t recognize a spy when the dude was sitting right in front of him. Jealousy issues. Amazing in bed. Stellar driving reflexes. Enjoys long walks in empty fountains, sex in dress shop restrooms, and women with healthy appetites who order their own dessert. Sometimes he makes mistakes, but his motivations are always pure. His is fiercely loyal, supportive, protective, deeply moral, intelligent, kind, funny and . . .” She drew in a ragged breath. “I love him.”

  “You love me?” He stared at her, his face a mask of disbelief. “There is no other guy?”

  Layla put down her phone and turned in her seat. “I pick Bachelor #11. Sam Mehta, will you marry me?”

  * * *

  • • •

  STUNNED, Sam couldn’t move.

  She wasn’t marrying someone else. No other man was coming to sit in this seat. She wouldn’t suffer the humiliation of being proposed to in front of a stadium full of fans. And she hadn’t come here just for the game.

  It was about him.

  Even after he had hurt her. Even after he had failed to get justice for Nisha. Even though there were ten other men her father thought worthy.

  She wanted him. Sam Mehta. Friend. Partner. Brother. Son.

  Not just for today, or tonight. Not for a short time or a good time. But forever.

  He didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve her forgiveness. But he wasn’t going to let her go again. He would have a lifetime to prove himself worthy of her love, of being her husband.

  He had come to save her, but instead she had saved him.

  “Sam?” Her brow creased with consternation. “If you don’t . . . I mean . . . it’s okay. There’s no kiss cam or anything. It’s just us.” She looked over her shoulder. “And my family.”

  Sam followed her gaze to the crowd behind their seat. Everyone was there—Jana, Nasir, Daisy, Max, Arun, the aunties and uncles from the van, others he hadn’t met, two cute little girls, John and Nisha in a wheelchair-accessible area. Even Royce. Standing in someone’s way in his $2,000 suit.

  “Did he say yes?” Arun shouted. “I couldn’t hear. There’s too much noise.”

  “They all knew?” Sam asked.

  “I had to tell them. Marriage is a family affair, and everyone had to approve.”

  Sam huffed. “The man is supposed to make the proposal.”

  “Are you seriously going to start with that man thing again?” Layla’s smile faded. “I told you; when I decide to get married, I’m going to ask the man myself.”

  “But I have a ring.” He pulled out the Giants fan ring he’d bought along with the shirt and hat, and dropped down to one knee. “Layla Patel. You are passionate, sweet, funny, generous, and kind. You made me believe in myself again. You gave me back my faith in the goodness of people. Every day I spend with you is an adventure, whether it’s dodging office supplies, meeting desi spies, careening through the streets in your Jeep, or hiding in a restaurant closet. I think I fell in love with you the minute you walked through the door, and every moment I’ve spent with you since then has just made me love you more.”

  “That’s a pretty good impromptu speech for a guy who’s used to being in control.”

  “I learned from the best.” Sam slid the ring on her finger. “I would be honored to marry you, Layla. But please don’t ask me to support your team. After those last two strikeouts, I think the Giants are on the verge of the worst home season in Oracle Park history.”

  “It’s a deal.” Her smile became a grin. “Now give me a kiss. Everyone is waiting.”

  Cradling her face in his palms, Sam pressed his lips against hers and kissed her.

  Long and deep. Soft and sweet. Forever.

  “He said yes,” Nasir shouted.

  A cheer rose up from the section behind them.

  “I brought your sherwani!” Nira Auntie held up a suit bag. “It’s ready for the wedding. Just like I said.”

  “Stand up,” Layla said. “Dad wants to take a picture.”

  “I can’t.” Sam looked down. “I think I kneeled in your fries.”

  • 30 •

  LAYLA walked into The Spice Mill Restaurant for a final good-bye. Sam and Royce had allowed her parents to stay until the Sunnyvale renovations were completed, but now that everything was ready, it was time to move on.

  “The tablecloths go in the box in the corner.” Her mother handed her a stack of freshly laundered linen. “And don’t forget the napkins. Lakshmi Auntie embroidered elephants on every one. For luck.”

  “You won’t need luck. I think everyone in Sunnyvale knows you’re coming back. Dad says you’re booked solid for the next three months.”

  Her mother smiled. She’d been smiling since the engagement, and now that the new restaurant was ready, she was positively joyful.

  Layla couldn’t imagine a more different moment than the night she’d walked into the restaurant six months ago at the lowest point of her life.
It hadn’t been easy, but she had done what she set out to do, reinventing herself and building something even more wonderful than she had ever imagined.

  She walked past the empty tables, the saffron walls, colorful frescoes, and paintings of her parents’ hometowns. They’d sold the water feature to Manoj Gawli down the street at the Tamarind Restaurant and had kept only enough furniture to fit their new cozy space.

  Dev would have been disappointed, but she knew in her heart he would have understood. Her parents were happy again, and that’s all that really mattered.

  She chatted with the aunties who had come to help pack for the move. Pari Auntie was putting the finishing touches on a new apron for her mother while her kids played hide-and-seek under the chairs. Vij Uncle was asleep in the corner, his new glasses dangling from his fingers while his wife, Nira Auntie, smoothed out the garment bag she had brought this morning. Over in the bare space where the waterfall had been, Mehar Auntie was teaching Anika and Zaina the dance “Kajra Re” from Bunty Aur Babli and Salena Auntie and Taara Auntie were arguing about something in a plastic container.

  Rhea, her sister-in-law, had taken time off to help, and was chatting with Charu Auntie and Deepa Auntie over by the bar where Hari Uncle was pouring himself yet another drink.

  The air was still fragrant with spices and she followed the scent to the kitchen, where her father was pouring batter into a pan.

  “Dad, what are you doing? The movers will be here any minute.”

  “I promised Sam some masala dosas before he goes for his big interview. He needs a full stomach if he’s going to impress the Redwood Hospital residency board.”

  “He’s applied other places . . .”

  Her father frowned. “No. No other places. He needs to stay in the Bay Area. This is where the family is—his family, your family. This is where you are. You have your business to manage upstairs. There is no going away. We lost you once. We won’t lose you again.”

  “You’ll never lose me, Dad.” She put her arms around him and gave him a hug. “Sam and I will be down in Sunnyvale so much, you’ll be sick of us.”

  “Make sure he sees Lakshmi before he goes. She has lucky things for him to take to the interview.” He flipped the dosa so effortlessly, she made a mental note to work on her dosa-making skills. After reconciling with his parents, Sam had made up for years of denial by eating his way through The Spice Mill menu and then shamelessly visiting her relatives and asking to stay for dinner.

  “Not more elephants. She’s given him so many elephant things he had to buy a special shelf to keep them all.” For the sake of propriety, they both had to keep their separate apartments until the wedding, although Layla secretly spent most of her nights at his place in the Mission.

  “We can’t take any chances.” He flipped the cooked dosa onto a plate. “How can he plan a wedding if he is far away? No. I’ve decided. He will get the residency here, and we will have a big celebration party in the new restaurant.”

  Layla kissed her father on the cheek. “I’ll let him know. He’s coming up to the office before he goes.”

  Although Sam had technically won their game, he hadn’t accepted her father’s hasty addition of his name to the list. As a result, since she hadn’t chosen any of the original ten bachelors, he’d declared her the winner of the marriage game and somehow convinced Royce that the restructuring business could operate successfully from the building across the street.

  Daisy was tidying up her desk when Layla walked into the office. Max was playing with a new squeaky toy in the corner, a present from his new best friend, Sam.

  “I’ve typed out a handover note for your new receptionist. It’s got all the details she needs to run things almost as well as me, including the recipe for your mother’s chai.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Layla sat on the purple chaise—the first thing she’d brought back to the office after Royce had moved out.

  “I want everything to go smoothly for you,” she said. “You’ll be busy with your two new hires. You need at least one person who knows what’s going on while I’m busy revolutionizing the world one line of code at a time.”

  Daisy had decided to go back to work as a software engineer and had found an exciting opportunity with a new start-up. Although Max couldn’t go to work with her, he would be spending his days being pampered by elderly aunties and uncles, and his nights eating pakoras at home with her and her dad.

  “Where’s your man?” Daisy asked.

  “He was at the gym this morning. He finally beat his friend Evan in a fight and Evan is determined to even the score. After that, he had some termination meetings to get through—he’ll be working with Royce at their new office until his residency is sorted out. And when those are done, he’s coming here to help with the move and go over some final wedding plans.”

  “So he’s a nice guy after all,” Daisy said dryly.

  “He was always a nice guy; it just took me a while to see it.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “MEGAN, we’ve called you here today because the hospital is going through a restructuring. I’m sorry to say that we have to let you go. Today will be your last day.”

  Karen immediately launched into a speech about the necessity of downsizing to allow the hospital to stay operational. Sam waited patiently until she was done and gave Layla’s business card to Megan. He’d cleared the referral with the AH board, who were happy to give their ex-employees a little hope for the future.

  “I miss the old speech,” Karen said after Megan left the room. “It was inspiring.”

  “It wasn’t the right time for them to hear it. When people are in shock, they need time to process before they’re ready to move on.”

  It had taken him years to work through his guilt after Nisha’s accident, but now that he had laid that burden to rest, he could help others work through their pain.

  “You inspired me in another way.” Karen opened her laptop. “After I read the file of that surgeon who hurt your sister, I took matters into my own hands.”

  “You talked to your manager?” He could only hope that Ranjeet would be flagged for redundancy. He’d handed over the St. Vincent’s terminations to Royce because of his conflict of interest, but with so many people being let go, it wasn’t unfathomable that Ranjeet might be named.

  “No,” Karen said. “Paul, the head of HR at Alpha Health Care handed in his notice a few weeks ago, and I got the job. It meant I had access to the entire database. And guess what I found?”

  * * *

  • • •

  “HAVE you seen Nisha?” Sam dodged two movers carrying a heavy table as he ran into the restaurant. He’d texted and called everyone who might know where Nisha was, but so far he’d come up blank. His residency interview was in two hours, but all he could think about were the minutes ticking by that Nisha didn’t finally know the truth.

  “I haven’t seen her.” Arun lifted a giant potted palm. “Nasir is in the kitchen. Maybe you should ask him.”

  Sam ran through the restaurant and slammed open the kitchen door.

  “Just the man I want to see.” Nasir waved him over to the stove. “I’ve made your favorite masala dosas to give you energy for the interview.”

  “That’s very kind, but I need to find Nisha.” His hands shook with excitement. “I have some news.”

  “She’s with John upstairs in Layla’s office.” Nasir put the plate in Sam’s hands and carefully added a small bowl of sambar and some coconut chutney. “There’s enough to share. Don’t spill the dip.”

  Sam took the stairs two at a time, slowing when he heard voices on the second floor.

  “Sam!” Nisha’s eyes sparkled when he walked into the office. “Guess what?”

  “I’ve been looking all over for you.” He put the dosas on the reception desk. “I called everyone I knew.
I drove around . . .” He drew in a ragged breath. “It’s over, Nisha. Karen in HR—”

  “You wouldn’t believe what happened—”

  “We saw the surveillance tape,” he said, cutting her off. “And there was a witness. It was exactly as you said. You were arguing with him because he was drunk and about to go into surgery. You threatened to tell me if he didn’t cancel it.”

  “The whole elevator was filled with flowers.” Nisha’s face lit up. “And when I got to the top—”

  “He was angry,” Sam continued. “So angry. He pushed you. I don’t know if he meant for you to get harmed, because he seemed genuinely shocked when you fell. But then he walked away and left you there. Karen took it straight to the CEO, and she made a copy for us so we can go to the police if they try to bury it again—”

  “John proposed!”

  * * *

  • • •

  AFTER the shock of the engagement announcement had faded and John and Nisha had gone, Sam sat on the purple chaise and ate his masala dosas while Layla finished her work. He couldn’t get enough of his favorite treat, and Nasir had been more than accommodating. He already felt like part of the family, although Layla couldn’t convince him to change his last name.

  “Ready for the interview?” She joined him on the chaise, and he pulled her onto his lap.

  “I’ve had my daily dosas, and I’ve got two pockets filled with lucky charms. Your dad also contacted the secret ‘Patel network’ to pull in some favors, your aunts and uncles are on the case, and someone went around to my neighbors and asked them to keep their black cats inside. With your family behind me, skill seems irrelevant.”

  Layla laughed. “If you remember, that’s how I got my business off the ground.”

  “I thought it started with flying office supplies.” He pulled her down for a kiss, and she melted against him.

  “Actually, I think it started with a game . . .”