With that threat against Mira’s bridegroom, Sejal slipped away into the early morning light.
“She could have used the front door,” Naveen remarked. Warmth surrounded her as Naveen wrapped her in a sweet embrace. Mira’s deepest, most fervent wish was that they never ever be in a life-or-death situation ever again, but yes, it was nice to know that if they were, Naveen was a cool, smart head to have by her side.
Naveen hugged her tighter. She’d discovered that he was a bit of a cuddle bug, and it was actually pretty okay with her. “What did your sister want?”
“Her share of the stuff from the chest.” She lifted her shoulders. “We’re millionaires.”
Naveen sighed, and his reply was tinged with humor. “Where’s the password this time?”
“No password. I’m serious.” She jerked her chin at the clothes. “My aunt sewed jewels into the clothes. An inheritance for me and Sejal.”
He was silent for a minute as he surveyed the fabric all over the room. “Okay. Well, we’ll figure this out. Emi’s mom, for one, could use the help, yeah?”
Warmth bloomed inside her at his steady, calm confidence and kindness. She couldn’t wait to face all of the wild external conflicts they might come across with his unflappable intelligence at her side. “I thought Sejal might have come to see me, but she was here for the money, of course. We’re the only family either of us has now, but she doesn’t even want me.”
“She may not know how to express herself. Either way, you have me.” His big hands settled over her belly. “We’ll make our own family.”
She placed her hands over his. It was still their little secret, this bean inside her, and she hoped she could keep it that way for as long as possible. She’d had to switch to elastic waists lately, and Ted had definitely clocked how tired she was at work, but the symptoms were otherwise pretty manageable. “I know.”
“Sejal will come home someday, when she’s ready. You can’t rush this sort of thing.”
“You’re right.” Mira looked over her shoulder. His hair was sticking straight up, and his eyes were bleary from sleep. He looked utterly beautiful.
Mira had never thought she’d be so gaga over a guy, but here she was. Totally smitten. And, she was happy to note, he was just as smitten. They’d seen so much of each other, both good and bad, and it was all perfect.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Their love carried her through the day—through makeup and hair, and the clucking of her soon-to-be in-laws, through the Hindu wedding ceremony around a fire and the Western ceremony they’d opted to have with Christine presiding as their officiant.
It carried her through various Desais looking down their noses at her, and her mother-in-law and brother-in-law and sister-in-law rescuing her from their clutches with smiles and love. It carried her through her grandfather-in-law and Sunil and Wyatt arguing over politics, and Emi disappearing with one of Naveen’s cousins, only for both of them to reappear with smudged makeup and messy hair. It carried her through her heel breaking, and Christine literally giving her the shoes off her own feet.
It carried her through running into Hema Auntie, who had opted to wear a silver pantsuit to their wedding. She squealed when she saw them both, her henna-red hair loose and flowing around her shoulders. “Oh my God, what a great success story you two are for me.”
They looked at each other. “For you?” Naveen asked.
“Yes, of course. Nothing can beat a human algorithm.” She smiled in a superior manner at the people walking by.
“Mmm, I don’t think so.” Naveen cocked his head. “I believe you fired Mira before we met, yeah?”
Mira tapped her finger on her chin. “Yes, I distinctly remember that voicemail.”
Hema sputtered. “I—I introduced you years ago! You were each other’s first match. I can’t help that you decided to go your separate ways.”
Mira made a soothing noise. “That’s a valid point, Hema Auntie.”
“We will certainly take it under consideration when we write our Yelp review,” Naveen added, and guided Mira away.
“Yelp!” Hema nearly shouted. “What is that?”
“That was mean,” she said to her new husband.
“Not as mean as she was to you,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, we have to go be in love.” Naveen guided her away, and Mira allowed it, still thrilled at the word.
It was a good, strong emotion, turning the culmination of months of stressful planning into a dream. So much so, she nearly rubbed her eyes when she saw the dark shadow at the back of the hotel ballroom.
Not again, she thought, and started walking toward the person. Familiarity tugged at the edges of her consciousness, especially as she got closer.
It was when she was fifteen feet away that she realized that this shadow was far too small to be her sister.
Her breath shortened, especially when the shadow slipped out the door soundlessly, ducking behind a larger couple. By the time Mira made it to the hallway, there was no one there.
She looked one way, then the other. She took a few steps and raised her hand to her throat. Then she stooped and picked up the single, half-smoked cigarette that was on the carpeted floor.
“Mira?”
She jumped, but didn’t drop the cigarette. “Yes.” She stood.
Naveen came toward her, brows knitted together. “Is something wrong?”
“I thought . . .” She looked down the hallway again, then back to the cigarette.
“Someone smoking in here?”
She touched the stick. It had lipstick smudged on one end of it, a deep plum. “Does that look like Clinique’s Black Honey to you?”
Naveen slowly took the cigarette from her and examined it. “I have no idea what that means.”
“It was on the floor.” She took it back, feeling vaguely protective. Though her instincts were telling her to toss the cigarette, she shoved it into the pocket that she’d sewn on to her lehenga.
She tossed her head and put the mysterious wedding crasher out of her mind. For the moment, at least. “Come on. Your mom’s had four drinks, minimum.”
As expected, that distracted Naveen immediately. “Did you tell the bartender to water hers down?”
“Yes.”
“Because last night, she kept going on about the aphrodisiac properties of mehndi after the first three drinks.”
“Let’s go check on her anyway.”
Naveen surprised her by pulling her close as they walked into the ballroom. “One second.” To her surprise, he dropped to his knees and patted his thigh. “Put your foot here. Your dress is stuck.”
She glanced around the empty hallway, then did as he asked, flushing when he flipped the skirt up. Though they were married, and he’d seen much more, he certainly didn’t touch her like this in front of his family.
He gently untangled the caught thread from the silver anklet, the payal, that his mother had gifted her. When he was done, he pressed a kiss on her calf and gave it a quick squeeze. “I love you very much,” he said.
“And I, you.”
He released her and rose to his feet, offering her his arm. “Let’s go be a boring married couple.”