That spark of pain came to life and died just as quickly as she spat, “You clearly want a servant, not a woman, and that is a reflection of you, not me.”
I actually gritted my teeth. “Now who’s acting like they know something about the other person? You’re making an assumption.”
“Bailing on you worked out for both of us. People like you are just one of the reasons I loathe coming here.”
She turned to Shilpa and Jahn and said in a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turnaround, pleasant tone, “You are definitely not a reason to hate coming here. It was actually really nice meeting you. It’s hard to find people at this supposedly spiritual place who are not here to judge and belittle. So thank you for that. I hear Rohan and Reema invited you to the wedding, so be prepared for an amazing show at the reception.”
“We better get ready to practice,” Preeti quietly added.
They exchanged kind pleasantries with a baffled Shilpa and strode away to meet a few others. They chatted and laughed, and just like that, Liya’s moment of vulnerability disappeared.
Shilpa glared at me.
“What?”
“Was that necessary?” she asked.
“What did I do?”
“I’ve never seen you behave so rudely with anyone.”
I nearly coughed out the words, “Did you hear how she treated me? I only give back what she gives me.”
“So, you think Ravi is a jerk because of what he says about her, and yet you act like that?” Jahn asked.
“I don’t know where this is coming from. Just last weekend, you told me about the gossip, that it was better the dinner didn’t happen. I didn’t call her a whore. Ravi is a completely different story.”
“No. You just implied that she would never be worthy of our friendship, much less our family,” Shilpa spat. “I like her. She’s smart and quick and has the funniest sense of humor.”
“So you had no issue with how she treated me?”
“Seems like she was doing just fine before you opened your mouth.”
Before I could defend myself, Liya’s dad approached us. “So wonderful to see you here. Shilpa, you’re glowing.”
“Thank you, Pranad Uncle,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage in all that annoyance toward me.
“Again, I apologize for my daughter’s absence,” he said to me.
“No worries, please,” I said.
“Maybe we can try again at a later time?”
I merely nodded, unable to bring myself to tell him that his daughter was the last woman on earth I’d marry.
“I see that you’ve spoken with her?” he asked, half worried and half anxious. Poor uncle.
“Yes. We actually meet together from time to time at her company.”
“Splendid! Then you know she’s a hard worker. Smart girl. Very prestigious role at her company at a young age,” he elaborated, as if to clarify her qualifications.
“She is. Definitely a force to be reckoned with.” I tried not to look at my brother or the disappointing expression he sported.
Pranad Uncle’s hopeful eyes narrowed just a little, and I knew my telltale flickers of unamused honesty peeked through. The same flushed embarrassment from the day he caught Liya running off before dinner washed over him now. My heart truly ached for him. Such an outstanding man with such a difficult daughter.
Chapter Eight
Liya
Dad was, without a doubt, trying to convince the jackass lawyer to give me another chance. But Jayesh Shah had made it perfectly clear that I was not worthy of him or his family. At any minute, he would tell Dad just the same. While I didn’t mind someone putting Dad in his place, I did mind Jay prying into what I had hoped was a new friendship. Shilpa was a rare rose in a field of thorns. She didn’t bat an eyelash when my name, or Preeti’s, came up. Even her husband didn’t seem to mind.
But, whatever.
Jay glanced at me from across the room, annoyance blatant on his chiseled face. If looks could kill…well, I would’ve died a hundred times over.
Something in the pit of my belly turned numb, heavy, toxic as it eroded my insides and slowly marched up my throat. I hadn’t felt this way since high school, and I was damned if some pretty-boy jerk made me revert to those insecure days.
“Are you okay?” Preeti asked.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“You look a little pale.”
“It’s just being here. I hate it.”
She stole a glance at Dad and Jay. “Does it have anything to do with your dad trying to get Jay back into suitor mode?”
“Let’s not even go there. Dad didn’t learn his lesson, and I’m assuming Jay is telling him just how much he loathes me.”
She frowned, but I waved away her sympathy. “If that doesn’t teach him to stop this marriage nonsense, then nothing will. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need fresh air.”
“Okay. I’ll get the girls together. We’ll meet you in the back room?”
I nodded and slipped my shoes on at the door. The air outside was muggy and hot and hit me like a stifling slap. Maybe it was time to just get out of Houston. Maybe that company in Dallas would give me another chance. If Reinli BioChem went down, then there was definitely no reason to stay, aside from my best friends. But Reema and Preeti had their men, their own lives, and Sana would soon get engaged and possibly move back to India. Everyone progressed while I remained stagnant. A new city and a new job were things my life needed.
I checked my phone out of habit. Mike’s name popped up on the screen. A text. Asking me out. Yet again. The guy was persistent, but there was definitely something off-putting about getting asked out via text.
The doors behind me swung open, offering a glimpse of Jay, who continued to speak with Dad. The numbing sensation in my gut returned shortly but was outlived by a pang in my chest.
Screw him. Screw all of them.
I texted Mike. I needed a distraction, and Mike was cute and flirty and made me feel tingly in all the good parts. I needed some good-part tingles.
I perused the heavy, embossed paper in my hand, my eyes drifting across appetizers, soups, salads, entrees, desserts, and drinks. None of them were cheap.
“Do you need help understanding anything?” Mike asked from across the round table just big enough for two settings plus a basket of bread in between.
“No, thank you.”
“Have you ever had French food?”
“Yes, when I was in France.”
My answer seemed to push him back a little, and the slight shake of my head conveyed my disbelief. I placed the menu down and admitted, “Although I’m not fluent in French.”
“Neither am I.” He laughed just as the waiter approached.
While I ordered the chicken Dijon, Mike ordered the almond roasted duck and a bottle of Burgundy wine.
We nibbled on petite salads and buttery bread before the main course arrived. Mike was a charmer. He constantly made eye contact, smiled, brushed his hand over mine on the table, and sprinkled compliments about my hair and dress. Pair that with an elite taste in restaurants and he quickly fell into favor.
“And those shoes…” He whistled. “So damn sexy.”