Zara’s eyes narrowed as Vivek posed for yet another selfie with a fan. “Seriously? He’s all flash, no substance.”
“All that flash is going to be at the singles table with you,” Parvati said. “Look how he moves his hips. It’s like they’re not even part of his body.” She groaned in frustration. “Of all the times to be stuck in the bridal party. I’ll be at the front of the room and he’ll be at the back.”
“I think that’s a good thing. He’s not worthy of you.”
“I don’t want worthy. I want hot. I want a man who knows how to move his body beneath the sheets.” She finished her drink in one gulp. “I need you to be my wingwoman tonight. If ever you needed to use your matchmaking chops for a good cause, tonight is the night.”
Zara shook her head even though they both knew she couldn’t deny her best friend. “I need to take a matchmaking break. I feel burned out.”
“I neeeeed Vivek.” Parvati grabbed her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Be a good bestie and sit beside him at the table so no one else steals him from me. Tell him you have a fabulous friend who is desperate to meet him.”
Zara surveyed the room, charting a path between her present location and the table. Rishta aunties were lurking everywhere, trying to appear innocent while they searched for their prey.
“I’ll do my best.” Taking a deep breath, she focused on her goal, walking as fast as she could to build up momentum so she couldn’t be stopped.
“I have someone for you to meet. Very robust. Forties are the new twenties . . .”
“. . . doctor says the rash isn’t contagious.”
“Look who is here. So nice. Ten cats . . .”
“. . . just out of prison but it was a false charge . . .”
“He sings soprano in the choir . . .”
“. . . all men have flatulence. It’s no big deal.”
Zara made it to the table unscathed and quickly checked the name cards. She put herself between Vivek and some dude named Clive, leaving Jay and Rohit on the other side of the table. She had only just finished rearranging the seating when people started to arrive, introducing themselves as they sat down.
The dude beside Rohit was the groom’s college buddy who was clearly hungover from the night before and didn’t seem inclined to talk. Beads of sweat clung to his clammy forehead, and his hand shook when he reached for the bread rolls. Beside him, Binita, a pretty woman with a sleek black bob, was busy taking selfies from every angle while Kamal tried to photobomb her every shot. The bride’s work friend, Clive, a Jason Momoa miniature with an extra helping of beard, gave Zara an exaggerated wink when he took the seat beside her, clearly thinking he was getting lucky tonight. Desperate to escape her fate, a woman in a white dress kept leaving her seat every two seconds to talk to people at a couples table nearby.
Vivek arrived and spent a few moments basking in adulation. It wasn’t going to be easy to sell Parvati when she wasn’t around, especially when the woman in white spotted him and raced back to the table at double speed.
Jay was the last to arrive. Zara hadn’t seen him since the night of the party. He wore a black suit, cut perfectly to fit his magnificent body, his strong jaw was shaved, his hair neatly combed. Why did he have to look so devastatingly gorgeous? It was only a wedding. Why couldn’t he have come in jeans?
His gaze flicked from Vivek on her left to Clive on her right. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he took his seat beside Binita without saying a word.
Silence descended on the table.
“I guess we’re not the in-crowd.” Zara forced a smile when the table nearest them erupted into laughter. “They’re probably all watching us, expecting us to pair off by the end of the evening as if we came here desperate for a hookup.” She wasn’t feeling her usual cheerful matchmaking self with Jay glaring at her from across the table. What was that all about? He was the one who hadn’t returned her messages.
“Maybe tonight is your lucky night.” Clive waggled a bushy brow. One did the work of two because they were joined in the middle. “The man of your dreams might be right in front of you.”
“Wedding hookups are fun, but they never lead to long-term love.” She looked around the table, deliberately avoiding Jay’s gaze. “How many of us have woken up in a strange bed the night after a wedding and gotten the hell out of there as fast as possible?” She raised her hand, her smile fading when no one followed suit. “Okay. Just me.”
Stop. Please. Just. Stop.
But she couldn’t stop. It was too awkward. No one was talking, and Binita was besotted with Jay, and the woman in white was all over Vivek, and Kamal was doing magic tricks, and Clive’s eyebrow wouldn’t stop wiggling, and there was only one man at the table worth the morning walk of shame and he’d had dinner with Indra.
“How about a drinking game?” Zara suggested. “That might loosen things up. I went to a destination winter wedding in Colorado a few years ago. I think we polished off six bottles of red wine. Or was it white? After a couple of rounds of wine pong, they all taste the same. Chitchat became flirting became crazy dancing and then we all wound up naked in the lake. As you do.” She looked around expectantly, hoping that others might share their own stories about skinny-dipping in a freezing lake while drunk, but everyone just stared. “That night didn’t go so well,” she continued. “I hooked up with one of the groomsmen but he couldn’t warm up, if you know what I mean.”
The college dude choked on his beer. Clive licked his lips—at least that’s what she thought he was doing under all that hair. Binita stared at her with wide-open eyes. But Zara was on a roll and couldn’t stop.
“Anyway, as it turned out, it wasn’t a performance issue. He had hypothermia and they had to take him away in an ambulance.”
Still nothing. Tough crowd.
“Would anyone like some wine?” As if someone had finally taken pity on her, the server appeared at the table.
“Me.” Zara held up her glass. “Fill it right up. Can you leave a bottle or twelve?”
After the glasses were filled, she decided to focus on Vivek. Parvati had already sent her four texts asking about her progress, and the woman in white had finally left him alone to powder her nose with a friend.
“We’re so delighted you could be here,” Zara said. “I’ve seen all your Bollywood films. What’s your next project?”
“I just got a role in a new zombie film.” He puffed out his chest. “It’s called Night of the Living Hell Reincarnated Mutant Corpse Son of the Father of the Grandfather Evil Terror Grain-Fed Free-Range Bone-Sucking Undead Part 4: In IMAX 3-D.”