CHAPTER 29
Willow
Dev smudged my mehndi.
It’s not particularly noticeable, but I know why the lines on my fingertips aren’t as sharp as they could be or why the flower on my wrist looks a bit more like an invasive weed. It’s our little secret – just like our relationship will be for one more day.
I haven’t seen him since last night. He’s been busy with religious ceremonies and lunches with his grandparents all morning and afternoon, but I’ve been counting down the hours until the start of the garba. According to the clock on the bedside table, we’re only an hour away. I’m so excited I could scream.
To distract myself, I called Grace and Chantal for pep talks and filled them in on all that’s happened over the past several days. I’ve steamed both my lehenga and my mom’s for tonight. I’ve washed, deep conditioned, straightened and styled my hair. I’ve repainted my nails to match the emerald green of my outfit. I even went for a long walk on the beach like some sort of cliché. I’m just so ready to see Dev.
After helping my mom get ready in my parents’ room, I make my way back down to the first floor where my bedroom is. The Andersons truly went all out for this wedding. This house – and the two others – is a testament to that. It’ll probably take some time to adjust when I go back to New York because my entire apartment could fit into the living room here.
Not wanting to think about going back to the city, I push the thought away. I love New York and I always will, but I’m not ready to return to the life it represents. Giving up this whirlwind that I’ve grown so fond of over the past few months will be tough, and staying in one place rather than hopping on a plane to a new city nearly every week seems so . . . dull. Boring. Grey.
Following Dev around the world has brought colour into my life. Colour I didn’t know was missing. I never thought I’d find my passion in the world of motor racing. It’s always been part of my life, my brother’s dream until he decided it wasn’t, and something I thought wasn’t for me due to a myriad of reasons. But it is for me, and I don’t want to leave it. I certainly don’t want to leave Dev.
The universe must know how desperate I am to stay with him, or at least to get my fill of him before we’re officially parted, because there he is standing outside my bedroom door. He’s leaning against the doorframe, phone in hand, wearing a green kurta that matches the colour of my lehenga so perfectly it’s like they were cut from the same cloth.
My feet are moving before I even know what I’m doing. As if he can sense me there, he looks up from his phone. And then he smiles.
Yeah. There’s no way I could ever walk away from this man.
I’m beside him a second later, drinking him in from head to toe. ‘Wow, you look . . .’
He straightens up. I swear he even puffs out his chest a little.
‘Handsome?’ he supplies for me. ‘Dashing? Hot as fuck?’
‘Wrong,’ I lie. ‘I was going to say like a leprechaun.’
‘That is rude for so many reasons that I don’t have time to get into.’
As much as I want to admire him and banter, I’m struck with nerves. He’s here waiting for me out in the open where anyone with a bedroom down this hallway could see. Oakley, thankfully, is staying in the house next door with the rest of the guys, but any number of people could catch us.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, lowering my voice and glancing over my shoulder to make sure we’re alone.
Dev’s unconcerned. His signature grin is in place, and his body is relaxed. ‘I was sent to escort you and your parents across the street to the party.’
‘I’m pretty sure we could have found our way,’ I point out, but I relax a little. At least he has a valid reason to be here.
‘Better safe than sorry. I’ve been told there are some crazy brown people in this neighbourhood.’
I scoff at his terrible joke and shake my head. Then, emboldened, I open my door and tug him in with me.
‘You’ll have to wait to be our escort,’ I tell him once we’re inside. ‘As you can see, I’m not dressed.’
He gives me a thorough once-over, taking in every inch, even though I’m wearing yet another simple pink sundress, something he’s seen me in a thousand times before. And yet he looks at me like it’s the first time, assessing every curve and inch of skin on display.
I flush under the attention and turn away. If I let myself bask in it, we won’t be getting anywhere on time.
Grabbing the lehenga choli hanging up in the closet, I move to the bathroom. ‘I’ll be right back.’
But Dev catches my wrist. ‘No point being modest, baby. Pretty sure I’ve already seen you naked – a few times. And I can help you with the ties on your lehenga.’
He’s not wrong on either count, so . . . fuck it.
I shove the outfit at him and pull my sundress off over my head.
Even though he was the one who suggested I change in front of him, his jaw goes slack, and he’s back to studying me as I stand before him in just my skimpy lace underwear. Last night, when I didn’t think anyone would see what I had on underneath, I’d gone for basic cotton. I certainly wasn’t going to make that mistake again today.
‘I see you’re not fond of bras,’ Dev murmurs as he drags his focus back up to my face.
I shrug, revelling in the way he’s trying to resist staring at the peaks of my nipples. ‘No point, really. Not like I’ve got that much going on.’
His voice is hoarse when he says, ‘Oh, you’ve got enough.’
I grin as I nod to the choli. ‘Help me, yeah?’
It takes a beat or two before he gains enough wits to pull the blouse off the hanger and motion for me to lift my arms. I do as I’m told, then he steps forward. As he pulls the top carefully over my head, I close my eyes and soak in the warmth of him.
‘Your mehndi looks fantastic,’ he murmurs. He doesn’t back away once my choli is in place. ‘Very dark. It means someone loves you a lot.’
My eyes reopen. ‘You smudged it, you know.’
He cocks a brow in challenge. ‘I seem to remember telling you to sit there and look pretty. You’re the one who went wild.’
‘All because you made me,’ I whisper back.
‘Careful, Willow.’ He brushes his nose against mine, his lips inches away from my own. ‘Keep this up and we won’t be going anywhere tonight.’
I’m tempted to take him up on that offer. I could have this blouse off in a heartbeat, drop my panties to the floor, and be on my back on the mattress in seconds. We could make it quick. We could—
I clear my throat and step back, but my heart pounds from the effort it takes to resist. ‘You have to go dance,’ I remind him, sounding entirely too breathless. ‘And I have to record it for the whole world to see.’
Dev hesitates, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, but, finally, he steps back. ‘Can’t wait to make a fool of myself again on the internet,’ he says. Then he crouches and holds open the skirt for me to step into. ‘You gonna cheer me on, jaanu?’
‘I have to stay quiet for the video.’ I grin, relieved by how easily we can set the tension aside and get back to our easy conversation. ‘But I’ll be cheering you on in my head. You’re going to do great.’
He snorts as he lifts the skirt. He settles it around my waist and does the side tie like a professional – not too tight, not too loose. ‘Yeah, just gonna channel my inner Shah Rukh Khan.’ His eyes flick to mine, the corner of his mouth pulling up in one of those beautifully personal smiles. ‘I would dance on top of a train for you.’
That declaration is nearly better than a love confession. I can already hear ‘Chaiyya Chaiyya’ playing in my head. ‘I’d love to see that.’
With both hands on my waist, he holds me in place and angles in to press a tender kiss to my cheek. ‘You better not change your mind once you see me dance tonight.’
Nothing could change my mind about him. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
——
I can easily say this is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Sure, travelling around the world and watching fast cars zoom about is great, but dancing and cheering and eating what has to be about ten thousand jalebi? It can’t be topped.
Dev, Oakley, Chava and a few male cousins from the bride’s side are set to perform soon. Which is perfect, because my feet are already aching in my heels, and if I don’t want to puke up all the sweets I’ve eaten so far, I need to sit down and rest. I’ll kill two birds with one stone – gear up for the next round of dancing and film Dev making a fool out of himself. Win-win.
Just as I settle into my seat toward the edge of the low stage in the backyard, Dev appears. He should be off preparing for his grand entrance, but instead, he’s crouching in front of me, holding out his phone.
‘Hold on to this for me, please?’ he asks, big brown eyes with those thick lashes I’m incredibly jealous of fixed on me. ‘I don’t want it bouncing around in my pocket while I’m up there.’
I nod and take it from him, our fingers brushing. The touch sends a zap of electricity up my arm, and I’m once again desperate to steal time alone with him. Desperate to get our secret out in the open.
‘I’ve got it.’ I set it on my lap, the screen reflecting the red and gold lights strung up around us. ‘Good luck up there. Don’t fall flat on your face.’
He rolls his eyes as he straightens, hands on his hips like a Bollywood hero. ‘Never. I’m a professional.’
‘Uh-huh. Sure. Right.’
With a wink, he strolls off to find the rest of the guys. I snap a few pictures of the crowd and the decor, having already gotten permission from both Dev and Alisha to post about the wedding. For the sake of safety, I won’t put anything up until we all leave on Monday, even though my contract with Dev will technically be over by then. Doesn’t matter, though. As long as he doesn’t kick me out of his accounts, I want to keep helping.
My attention snaps back to the stage when the volume of the music pouring from the speakers increases. The lights dim until the stage is dark, and then the spotlight flares and the song’s beat kicks in. It’s not a song I recognize, but the Desi portion of the audience certainly does, and I make quick work of shifting from still photos to video.
My brother appears first, looking surprisingly dapper in his bright-pink kurta. Chava is the next to swan into place, and one by one, four of Dev’s cousins appear. Then there he is, Dev in all his glory, arms spread wide as he saunters to the centre of the stage. In any other scenario, this entire routine would absolutely give me the ick, but it’s a big, fat Indian wedding. This is exactly how it’s supposed to go.
I trade off between watching Dev lip sync and dance in real life and on my phone’s screen, already imagining how I’ll edit this. I swear he’s singing straight to me, and even if I have no idea what the lyrics mean, it’s still classic Bollywood – there’s no way it isn’t wildly romantic.
I nearly laugh when Oakley and Chava almost run into each other during a transition, but I’m distracted when Dev’s phone buzzes in my lap. Holding my own phone steady, I glance down.
Howard’s name is flashing across the screen.
My heart surges into my throat. I dart a look at my phone, still recording, then at Dev’s again. Shit. Howard wouldn’t call unless he had news, but Dev’s only halfway through the routine. It’s late, and it’s the weekend, so if I let this go to voicemail, Howard may not answer when Dev calls back. That would leave Dev waiting in agony for who knows how long, especially with the wedding festivities tomorrow. He’ll have little opportunity to take calls. Which means I have to make a choice. Right now.
Biting my lip, I tap the screen of my phone to stop recording. I dump it into my lap and scoop Dev’s up instead. Then, after a deep breath, I answer.
‘Hi, Howard, this is Willow,’ I greet, hoping he can hear me over the booming music.
The pause that follows lasts so long I pull the phone back to make sure the call is connected.
‘Willow?’ he questions after another second, his tone full of disdain.
I breathe a small sigh of relief that he’s there, regardless of his attitude. ‘Yeah, I’m Dev’s social media—’
‘I know who you are,’ he cuts me off. ‘Is there a reason Mr Anderson isn’t answering his own phone right now?’
‘He’s . . .’ I trail off, watching Dev up on the stage, taking in his grin and his honestly pretty great moves. ‘He’s a little busy right now. Can I take a message?’
‘No.’ Howard’s tone leaves no room for argument. ‘I’ll call back in the morning.’
‘Wait!’ I shout so loudly that the people seated near me turn and stare. ‘Can I at least know if it’s good news?’
He pauses for so long again that I wonder if he’s hung up, but then he finally says, ‘It is.’
Oh my god. This really is the phone call Dev wouldn’t want to miss. ‘Okay,’ I breathe out. ‘Please, just . . . hold on one second, okay?’ I shoot to my feet and wave to the boys on stage with my free hand, hoping to get the attention of at least one of them. ‘He’s going to want to hear this as soon as he can.’
‘I don’t have all night,’ Howard grumbles, but I barely hear him.
Somehow, Dev is the one who spots me, and the second he looks my way, I point to the phone and shout, ‘It’s Howard!’
That’s all it takes.
He’s jumping off the stage a second later, landing like a true action hero, then he’s sprinting toward me. Dev has the phone out of my hand before I can blink, skidding to a halt and lifting the device to his ear.
‘Howard? What’s going on?’
The music is still booming, and the other boys are finishing the routine, a little half-assed, but at least they’re doing it. I keep my focus locked on Dev, though, watching his every shift in expression.
‘Is it official?’ he asks. He presses his lips together as he listens, his face unreadable. ‘All right. Yeah. Thank you, Howard. I appreciate you calling.’
My heart pounds so hard it threatens to break free from my ribs. The anticipation makes it hard to breathe. ‘So?’ I prompt. ‘What’s going on? What’s the news?’
Another beat passes. The music comes to a deafening crescendo. And then Dev smiles, wide and bright and beautiful.
‘I’m going to Mascort.’