“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Noor protested.
Oh no. “This is all unnecessary,” Jia tried weakly.
“It is not in the least unnecessary,” Farzana declared. “It is essential we meet his family before we agree to the match.”
“What if you call in and meet his grandmother that way?”
“That’s not how it’s done, for a child’s marriage. This is not a work meeting.”
If her video wasn’t on, Jia would bang her head against the headboard. Why had she even mentioned Dev’s grandma? They could have had a little more time to process this.
“Send us the details on when his family will be there,” Mohammad said. He had his phone in his hand and his glasses perched on his nose. “We can figure out the logistics then.”
Sadia resettled herself in her chair. “I think this is an overreaction.”
“I will not have another daughter run off and elope with someone.”
Sadia’s face went blank at their mother’s pointed reminder of her own rebellion, and a surge of sympathy ran through Jia. There was no need for her parents to slap at Sadia right now, when her sister was just trying to help her. “It’s fine, you can come here.” Jia forced a smile. “It’ll be so much fun.” So much fun, to introduce her family to a Bollywood legend who had probably read the passionate texts she had allegedly sent to her grandson. Only not that grandson, not really. The other grandson. Oh, and the third grandson, too.
So fun.
Farzana was already rising from her chair. “We have to pack. Remember, Jia, you’re a potentially engaged woman, not a wife. Behave accordingly.”
Jia couldn’t help herself. “What does that mean, Mom?”
“You know very well,” Farzana huffed.
The little devil that lived perpetually on Jia’s shoulder egged her on. “I don’t. What can a wife do that a fiancée can’t?”
“Jia, stop teasing your mother.” But there was a suppressed thread of laughter in her father’s directive.
“Fine. I promise, Mom, I will be as saintly as possible.” For me, she thought to herself. Her parents and Ayesha left the call.
Noor and Zara gave her disappointed looks and disconnected as well. Sadia fiddled with the ends of her hair. It had grown quickly while she’d been pregnant, and now it hung down her back. “You okay?”
No, she was not. “Yup. What could possibly be wrong?”
Her older sister didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “Call me if you need anything. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Jia picked up the fabric ring and twisted it around her fingers. Should she send Dev the rings she’d bookmarked on her wish board, so he could buy her a real one? Would that be tacky?
Her brow furrowed. It was a problem if she didn’t even know if he would find that tacky, right? If she was going to marry him?
Be engaged to him. She didn’t have to marry him right away. She had plenty of time to figure out his tackiness boundaries.
You’re too much, you know that?
Jia launched herself off the bed, trying to shake her twin’s words out of her head, but it was impossible. How did normal regular people go through their lives without getting into weird situations? Seriously, how?
She stumbled downstairs, and just as she was about to ask Sienna where her roommates were, she caught a flash of color outside the big doors that led to the backyard. She flung them open and strode outside, coming to a halt when she saw who was in the comfy white chaise overlooking the ocean.
Aw, no. It was not her day.
Lakshmi glanced up, which made it impossible for Jia to slink back inside without detection. Rhiannon’s assistant was dressed in a flowing crimson caftan paired with black boots, and her hair was clipped up in an elaborate updo.
So damn cool. Jia shuffled her feet, feeling especially small and plain. “Hey. I was looking for Rhiannon and Katrina. Sorry, didn’t know you were here.”
“I’m not sure where Katrina is, but Rhiannon will be right out. We’re working on something.” Lakshmi closed the laptop. “I hear congratulations are in order. My grandma’s going to want an autograph from your new husband.”
Jia wasn’t sure who was more surprised by her bursting into tears, her or Lakshmi. But it was definitely Jia who was shocked when Lakshmi appeared by her side. “Hey,” the other woman said, and patted her twice, awkwardly, on the head. “Heterosexual marriage isn’t that bad. Or so I’ve heard.”
That only made her cry harder. Lakshmi patted her again, harder. “There, there. Please don’t cry. I’m not good with tears.”
“Stop hitting me,” Jia sobbed.
Lakshmi paused mid-swat. “Stop crying, then! I’m trying to comfort you.”
“You’re terrible at it.” Each word was punctuated by a gasp. It was like all the pent-up drama and worry and lies had come flooding out of her eyes at once.
Lakshmi gave a muttered curse and grabbed her by the arm to march Jia over to the chaise opposite the one she’d been sitting on. She shoved Jia down, and Jia was too worked up to protest being manhandled. “I bet you never cry,” she whispered. Lakshmi probably absorbed her own tears and used them for fuel.
“I cry sometimes.”
That startled Jia enough that she subsided to sniffles. “You do?”
Lakshmi grimaced. “No, I’m trying to make you feel better. But I do have emotions.” She handed Jia a napkin. “I’m guessing your love life isn’t as rosy as the media made it out to be?”
“No.” Jia blew her nose. “It’s not.” And then, because it seemed like everyone in this house might as well know, she ran through the highlights of her and Dev’s relationship, catfishing included.
“Hmm,” Lakshmi said, when she was done. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Yes. More interesting than I thought you could be. No offense, but you always struck me as kinda shiny and smooth and soft. No depth, you know?”
Jia clutched her snotty napkin. “How am I supposed to not be offended by that?”
“It’s not as if you like me much either,” Lakshmi said matter-of-factly.
“I didn’t dislike you! I pretended to not like you because I didn’t want you to think I cared that you didn’t like me!”
“Huh.” Lakshmi squinted. “Why did you care?”
“Everyone wants people to like them.”
“No, they don’t.” Realization dawned in the other woman’s dark eyes. “Oh, you’re one of those.”
“One of those what?”
“One of those kids who was raised with weaponized disappointment, so you’re super insecure and crave external validation and when you perceive the slightest rejection you convince yourself you’re a failure, all while pretending you’re a tough cookie who doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about you.”
Jia’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, shit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, shit.”
Lakshmi gave a sympathetic nod. “Yeah.”
“Oh, shit.”
Lakshmi handed Jia her coffee mug and Jia took a deep drink, coughing slightly. It was bitter but the black brew washed the uncharacteristic swears out of her mouth. “How did you know that?”