The Shaadi Set-Up by Lillie Vale
Chapter 13
And the weird thing was, Raj, that the coffee drink he was served ‘by mistake’ happened to be my favorite salted caramel mocha frappe,” I complain, placing my phone on the floor so I can tighten the laces on my Nike running shoes.
It’s not the first time I’m having this conversation with my best friend in the week since the open house, but it’s the first time we’re FaceTiming. So while all she sees of me hunched over on the couch is a ceiling view and hopefully none of the unflattering double-chin angle, I can make out the weariness on her face.
Usually when we video chat she’s distracted with posing for the camera, showing off her great bone structure and Instagram hair, and I’m okay with her half listening and she’s okay with me droning on in her ear, but today we both seem out of sorts.
For a split second I feel bad about rehashing last Sunday to death, but I can’t help it. Even though he paid my invoice ridiculously promptly, thus severing our working relationship, I still feel the need to exorcise him out of my system.
I’m already dreading having to go back to get all my stuff out of the house when it sells. With my luck, he’ll be there even though there’s zero reason for him to be.
“And you’ve gone back to not using his name,” says Raj. “How’s that closure coming?”
I make a face. “You make it sound like it’s that easy. Like I ask and I get it. It’s been six years. If I ask him now, when I didn’t back then, he’ll think I’m not over him yet.”
“But you’re not, are you?”
I sigh at the glib remark. “I’m not you. I don’t just talk about these things. Look at my family. Not exactly big on the heart-to-hearts.”
Raj looks crestfallen for a second before she switches subjects. “And how are things going with Neil?” She treats me to an irascible grin. “Did you tell him that Milan asked you to jump into bed with him?”
“Raj!”
“Figuratively!”
Harrie barks, refusing to be left out. He immediately trots over to shove his face into the screen. He recognizes Raj at once and starts wagging his tail, bumping his nose against hers.
Her delighted smile widens. “Nose boop!”
I pull Harrie onto my lap to kiss the top of his head, forgetting all about the laces. “Your questionable use of idioms aside, no, I haven’t. I mean, he knows about the Soulless Wonder, I just didn’t go into all the details of my mom and Milan’s setting us up after not seeing each other for six years.” Defensiveness punches through my chest as I hear how it sounds. “It’s not like it’s a secret. There’s no reason to tell him about Milan’s offer because I’m not going to say yes.”
I make sure to use his name so she doesn’t call me out again.
“Why not? You could use the money.”
“Sure, but I’d have to invest in the project in order to be a partner. Helping him last week was different, it was a relatively quick in-and-out job. Who knows what kind of time and money commitment this would be? I looked the house up and it didn’t look too bad, but you know pictures never tell the whole story.”
“What I know is that you could have said no and dismissed this immediately, but you took the time to look it up and now you’re actually thinking about what would be involved in saying yes.”
“That is not the takeaway from what I said!”
Harrie gives me a comforting chin lick. It’s cold, but it’s the thought that counts.
“Oh, Rita, don’t squawk. I know you. You’re tempted. That’s why I’m currently looking at your ceiling instead of you, because you wear your heart on your sleeve. And that idiom is one hundred percent accurate.”
I groan. “Every time I hear that percentage, my blood pressure goes up.”
“Why?”
“No reason,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
Her eyes narrow.
I need to get off this topic fast. If I tell her about MyShaadi’s one hundred percent match, it’ll confirm all her suspicions about our compatibility, and that’s the last thing I need.
“It’s just a matter of time before I match with Neil anyway. He’s my boyfriend.”
It rings hollow even to me.
“You bitch all the time about him being under his ma’s thumb,” she says, huffing. “I mean, after his mom set him up with that girl the other week, did he even tell her she was out of line?”
I release a short laugh. “Yeah, that’s not a conversation he’s going to sit down and have.”
“And that’s not a red flag?”
“I’m not marrying him. We’re just having fun. Seeing where things go. If we level up our relationship, then, maybe, and only then, it might be a yellow flag.”
I have no clue why I’m on the defensive when this is the same question I’ve asked myself from the beginning. How okay am I, really, with a guy—a kind, honest, sexy guy—who still puts his mother first? Someone who’s shown time and time again that he is his father’s son?
While I’m waging war in my mind, Harrie wiggles to be let down. The moment I do, he bounds back to the phone, circling it like a new playmate.
Raj coos at him, slipping into baby talk, but then snaps back to her usual no-holds-barred self. “You’re fighting for the wrong guy.”
“That implies Milan is the right guy.” I snort.
“Maybe he isn’t,” Raj allows, “but that doesn’t mean Neil is just by default.”
The lump in my throat is boulder-sized by now.
Thank god she can’t see my face, which, evidently, I wear every single emotion on.
“Rita, you turned down Paula’s blank-check house reno. Now Milan’s offering you one. What if it’s a sign that you should do it? You said before that the universe was conspiring to bring him back in your life. What if you’re ignoring what fate is trying to tell you?”
“It’s not the universe,” I grumble. “His mother probably forced him into it. That’s literally the reason we were even in this situation to begin with, remember? He said it himself. ‘Your mom was right to make me hire you.’ That’s what he said, verbatim.”
My heart squeezes. “I was useful to him, that was all. And he thinks I can be useful to him again. I don’t think he actually gets that this might be hard for me.”
He should have known, even if I told him that I was over it. Over him.
Milan Rao knows me.
Even though I hate it, he should know me enough to get that nothing about this is easy.
“I think you’re the one taking away the wrong message,” says Raj, quietly now. “To me, it sounds like he’s admitting how good you are. Take the win. I know you’re a little jaded about Indian moms, but Milan isn’t a puppet on strings dancing to his mother’s tune.”
I fidget with my forgotten laces. “I can’t believe you of all people are encouraging me to consider this. Little Shop of Hors D’Oeuvres took your mom and grandma two decades to complete.”
“Oh, come on.” Raj scoffs. “Do you genuinely think the house on Rosalie Island is going to take that long or is this just an excuse not to do it?”
No. In fact, it’s pretty doable. We could finish up by autumn.
Wait, what am I saying? There’s no we.
“I’m just glad it’s over and I don’t have to see him again,” I say, pulling the laces tight.
She sighs. “Okay, that’s the millionth time I’ve heard you say that in the last week, Rita. We keep talking about him, and not enough about me, which is fine if there’s anything new and exciting happening, but there isn’t, so can we please return to my favorite topic of me?”
“I thought I was your favorite topic,” I say, amused at her whine.
“Yeah, but you’re my best friend, so you’re me-adjacent,” she says with a straight face.
“You’re hilarious. Okay, spill. What’s new in Raj-land?”
A gusty sigh. She brings the screen close to her face. “I swiped right on Luke.”
“Luke? As in Lucky Dog Luke?” It doesn’t surprise me he’s on Tinder.
“Can we not call him that?” I can see Raj’s wince. “It’s just a reminder of his—in less crude terms—prowess. I didn’t even mean to swipe on him, it just happened! He just looked like a hot guy and I didn’t think. My thumb has a mind of its own.”
“Babe, it’s a nickname. And it’s not even one he earned. It’s because he works at his grandpa’s antique mall. And it really doesn’t help that he wears a huge name tag that says ‘Ask me my name,’ ” I say with an eye roll, getting up from the couch.
The first time I met him, I made the mistake of asking him. By the end of it, I knew everything about him, his dad, and his gramps, all named Luke, and the entire history of the Lucky Dog Luke’s antique mall where he worked when he wasn’t an adjunct English lecturer.
She groans. “How am I going to look him in the face when he knows I swiped right on him, though?”
I hide my smile. “Raj, the only way he’d even know is if he swiped right on you, too.”
Her jaw drops. “Shit.”
“Guess you don’t know everything, do you?” I tease.
Harrie’s waiting at the door, ready for his walk, but his brother is another matter.
“Freddie, come,” I say, patting my thigh. “Raj, can I call you back? I promised these guys a walk and if I don’t return my mom’s call she might actually badger my dad into coming over to check on me, make sure I haven’t keeled over from too much instant noodles or something.”
Mom still thinks I can’t take care of myself unless I have a partner.
What would have happened if I’d managed to tell her about Neil that day Milan came over? How would my life look now? Would our Friday night date be replaced with a family dinner, Neil nervous to meet my folks, me nervous about the round, round rotis Aji would undoubtedly force me to practice?
I shake the thoughts from my mind, refusing to dwell on them a second longer.
Like I told Mom, I take care of me. I make my own decisions. And even if they’re the wrong ones, at least they’re mine. I can’t second-guess myself now.