“That’s not what I was doing!”
“I told you to finish your MFA. You refused. I told you not to work at the restaurant. You insisted. How could you do this to me?”
“How could I leave you?”
“Leave me? You’re here. You’re alive. How is living your life leaving me? When did I ever tell you that killing your desires was a condition for loving me?”
What was going on here? Ayesha felt like she’d woken from a surreal dream into a reality she didn’t recognize.
“You told me the Shettys didn’t marry outside the community. You were so happy with the fact that Ajay was dating Nina.”
“Because they loved each other. Ajay got to have that. Do you know how much solace that gives me? Do you think your brother would ever let you settle for less?”
“You told me I’d be dead to you if I went out with Emmitt.”
Amma threw up her hands. “Since when did that stop you? I also told you you’d be dead to me if you wore all those indecent clothes you’ve always loved. You wore them anyway, even when I really don’t understand why you want the whole world to see so much of you. You think I didn’t know that Emmitt and you were together all those years? I knew you did it anyway, even though I didn’t understand why you’d want to be with someone so different from us.”
Ayesha opened her mouth to respond, but the script she’d been living was being flipped on her, and she didn’t know where to start.
Her mother raised her hand. “I know, I know. He’s not actually different from us. I’ve known that boy since he was ten. You think I’d have let him work in my restaurant if I didn’t see how special he was to you both?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Say what? The accident happened, and for a while, life stopped making sense. By the time I could formulate coherent thoughts again, it was like I’d lost two children. Your heartbreak over your brother, over that boy leaving you, changed you so much I had no idea how to get you back. Then a few weeks ago I got a call from this guy asking if we were looking for help at the restaurant. Sometimes it amazes me how stupid you kids think we are, just because we’re older. Did he think I wouldn’t recognize his voice? He worked in my restaurant. He grew up under my nose.”
Emmitt was the one her mother had set up the interview with? Knowing it was him? Ayesha’s brain started racing faster than her heart. “You knew Emmitt was going to be at the wedding. You never meant for me to choose Samrat.”
Her mother shrugged. “Bela might be your bestie, but Sarita and I spent years being each other’s support group for wild daughters.” Seeing the smugness on her mother’s face was like getting a piece of her heart back. “Your Raj Uncle tried to talk us out of it. What kind of psychiatrist is he if he thinks a simple conversation would have gotten through your thick head? Plus, I had to know why Emmitt left you if he was going to go to India and then come back again to circle you. Sarita knew Bela kept him updated about you. She made sure Bela knew there was a setup so she would panic and get Emmitt to the wedding. We hoped that would finally shake you out of whatever funk you were stuck in.”
They’d certainly succeeded.
“What about Emmitt? What did you say to him after I left?”
“If you were so interested in that, you shouldn’t have run away.”
Ayesha put a hand on her hip. “Amma! Please. What did you do with him?”
Amma put a hand on her hip too. “Is he a kitchen utensil that I needed to keep track of him?” But her eyes did a quick slide over Ayesha’s shoulder.
Ayesha couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this alive. Old Ayesha, New Ayesha, both blazing inside her. “Well, say he was a kitchen utensil, did you bring him home with you, or did you leave him at the wedding?”
“I’m not sure I appreciate that metaphor.”
Ayesha spun toward his voice, and there he was, standing in her home. Her Emmitt.
“I offered him the job,” Amma said behind her. “But he said he has some conditions before he accepts.” She shrugged. “I warned him you were going through a stubborn phase. Well, even more stubborn than usual.” She walked around them. “I’m going back to the wedding. I’m sure lunch from Naperville Harvest is as generic-Indian-fare as ever, but Sarita will need me to lie and say the food is delicious.” She walked to the front door, but not without throwing one last decree over her shoulder. “Get the conditions sorted out, because this is the last Indian wedding I’m letting that hack restaurant steal from us.”
Before she could leave, Ayesha ran after her and threw her arms around her. Sorry, she wanted to say, and thank you, but neither fit, so she just squeezed her and let her squeeze her back. Finally, Amma pulled away, then patted Emmitt on the cheek and left, smiling through her tears.
Ayesha turned to Emmitt. He looked absurdly hot in a kurta. “I heard you have conditions?” she said, sliding into his arms.
“Mm-hmm.” He pulled her close, and they stood there soaking up the feel of each other’s bodies.
“I can feel one of them, but can we address the less easy to address ones first?”
He laughed, and his laughter fell on the sensitive crown of her head. “You have to go back and finish your MFA.”
Great, he was going to make her cry again. “Accepted. Anything else?”
“Yes. You have to decide if you want to be with me, independent of whether I take the job or not.”
And now she was crying, and turned on, and so filled with love she thought she’d burst. “I don’t know. The idea of being your boss is terribly enticing.” She pressed a fierce kiss into his lips.
“Baby, you’ll always be the boss of me.”
“In that case,” she said, wrapping her legs around him as he laughed and lifted her up, “I think we might have a deal.”
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m always amazed when I finish a story and find the tangle of what I’d set out to say folded neatly into the words on the page. But never more so than when it’s a short story. The limited space would have stymied me if not for author friends Jamie Beck and Virginia Kantra, who are always so generous with their time and talent. Without them and my editor, Alicia Clancy, I would never have identified the heart of this one without compromise. Also, a big thank-you to my found family of the Shettys, Hegdes, and Bhandarys, for wrapping me up so tightly in their fold. Especially to Teertha Bhandary for falling into this story with me. No acknowledgment is ever complete without thanking my family and my agent, Alexandra Machinist, and of course you, dear readers, for taking a chance on me once again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2018 Ishita Singh Photography
USA Today bestselling author Sonali Dev writes Bollywood-style love stories that explore universal issues. Her novels have been named best books of the year by Library Journal, NPR, the Washington Post, and Kirkus Reviews. She has won numerous accolades, including the American Library Association’s award for best romance, the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award for best contemporary romance, and multiple RT Seals of Excellence; has been a RITA finalist; and has been listed for the Dublin Literary Award. Shelf Awareness calls her “not only one of the best but one of the bravest romance novelists working today.” She lives in Chicagoland with her husband, two visiting adult children, and the world’s most perfect dog. Find more at