21. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Foster
Being warned about a family of literally thirty people versus actually sitting right in the middle of the hurricane were two very different things.
Apparently the sisters with children had gathered around noon, and the kids had opened presents and gorged on sugary treats.
Did that explain the pile of hyper kids playing with toys, fighting, speaking loudly, and laughing?
I couldn’t say.
Samara, Arnav’s eldest sister, handed me a hot chocolate.
I smiled gratefully.
She sat beside me so we could watch Arnav sitting with his youngest niece—whose name I embarrassingly couldn’t remember—as he put together a Lego set. The intricacy of the work sort of blew my mind. I’d never had toys like that.
“You’re a builder?” Samara pushed her black hair off her face.
Close up, I noted a few strands of silver.
She was my age.
I tried not to feel judged. “Uh, yes. Mostly below-market housing for families.”
“That’s great. My husband, Pavan—” She pointed to a man across the room who was snapping pictures of everyone.
He’d gotten me in a few, I was quite certain.
“He’s a teacher. He knows so many kids who have unstable housing. Or even worse, none at all.”
A pang echoed in my chest. I’d never been homeless—but we’d been close a few times. “Teaching is truly a noble profession.”
She laughed. “Or a crazy one. We have four kids of our own. The eldest just started university this fall. My second one starts next year.” She pointed to a young man with very floppy black hair. “Four is crazy. Or so I thought. Then Minal went and had six.”
Minal, the sister closest in age to Arnav. She’d started early and been, uh, dedicated to growing her family. Six boys.
My mind whirled.
Arnav had created a family tree on posterboard for me with photos of each member of the family. Great in theory, but some of the kids kind of looked the same. Made sense since they were all cousins.
I gazed across the room and caught sight of Rashmi. I recognized the look of longing in her expression just before she caught my gaze. She raised her bottle of beer in salute to me. I wasn’t certain why. And I didn’t know if she was looking longingly at the kids and wishing she had some of her own, or…
For me, the longing was for family. This was what I’d missed growing up. I was so damn envious of every person here. To know this kind of unconditional love. To know someone always—always—had their backs. That was powerful stuff.
Yet I felt no longing to have a child of my own. As much as I wanted to consider fostering, that wasn’t my path either. I could encourage and teach, but I couldn’t care for damaged souls. Whether because I was still dealing with my own trauma, or just because I wasn’t built that way, I wasn’t certain. My legacy—and the continuation of PJ’s hard work—was in the homes I built.
“Overwhelmed?” Samara pointed to my hot chocolate. “Drink up. Dinner’s not for a few hours yet.”
Heavenly smells wafted from the kitchen. Apparently Beena and Meenakshi were on dinner duty today, with Minal’s husband carving the turkey. I’d been surprised at that. Apparently the family blended North American and Indian traditions seamlessly.
Arnav confided that only three of the grandchildren spoke Hindi. All were offered the choice, and only Samara’s daughter and Pooja’s two boys had chosen to take formal studies. The rest of the kids were exposed to the language, for certain, but without the benefits of lessons, would likely never be fluent. My boyfriend spoke Hindi fluently. Something he’d neglected to mention.
Pooja had dropped that little nugget to me when she’d discussed her sons’ desires to one day go to India and immerse themselves in the culture and language.
As for Arnav, he sometimes took clients who spoke Hindi and was able to help guide them through the legal system.
Little things I was learning about him that made me love him more.
I sipped my hot chocolate.
Afternoon slipped into early evening, and although the samosas had been delicious, my belly wanted true sustenance. The smells emanating from the kitchen were so enticing. Reminiscent of the meals PJ had cooked for us. He’d taught me to make a whole variety of things, but the recipe cards he’d given me had been lost in one of my moves with my mother. That had devastated me more than the loss of the hockey cards I’d collected. In my mother’s house, we never had the ingredients necessary to make fancy stuff. We ate basics and survived. For Howard, I’d learned to cook all his favorites. And most had been things I hadn’t enjoyed, despite having what I considered an open mind.
Or maybe I hadn’t liked them because he had. The one defiance I’d allowed myself.
“Dinner.” Papi stood near the Christmas tree. “Mama has put everyone’s name at their place. No switching them around.” He pointed at one of Beena’s twin daughters.
Aliyah? Man, I was trying.
Everyone rose and scrambled to the dining room.
Arnav let me know his parents had bought the house about ten years ago when his sisters just kept having kids. The dining room ran along an entire length of the house, and all thirty family members could fit. And wasn’t I lucky that Samara’s oldest son hadn’t come home from university in Toronto so a seat was vacant for me?
I didn’t dare ask what would happen if a sister decided to have another child. As I gazed over the chaos—and the longest table I’d ever seen outside of a banquet hall—I was beset by nerves.
“You’re here!” One of Minal’s six boys pointed to a seat right smack in the middle.
“Oh, okay.” I moved that way and, sure enough, my name was in lovely script tucked in next to a Christmas cracker. Okay, so they were going to open thirty of those? That would certainly make a lot of noise.
I slid into my chair, relieved to see Arnav was on one side, Samara next to me, and Rashmi directly across from me. The rest of the family appeared to have the kids clustered around their respective parents. Three chairs were replaced by highchairs, and those children were being secured even as Arnav’s father shooed, pointed, and generally tried to wrangle all his grandchildren into their seats. More than one fight erupted when siblings discovered they were expected to sit next to each other.
Across from me, Rashmi winked. “You should see us during Diwali. This is nothing compared to that.”
Ah. The Celebration of Lights. I’d read up on that. It sounded amazing. The festival had been the day after Arnav and I had our fateful encounter at what I thought of as Quinton’s Epic Halloween Party.
We’d received our invitation to his Out-of-This-World New Year’s Eve Extravaganza. We’d also agreed that attendance was pretty much mandatory. While Arnav had worked his long hours, I’d put together our outfits. Not overly elaborate…but super adorable. Very…us.
“Now, children, hush.” Mama’s voice rang though the huge room.
To my amazement, everyone quieted.
Mama and Papi had both, individually, asked me to refer to them as such. Mr. and Mrs. Mehta was so formal, they’d said—cajoling me into using the more familiar terms. Hell, I hadn’t even called my mother anything other than mother . In mere hours, I’d been welcomed into this household like a long-lost relative.
“We are always grateful to be here together.” Mama gazed over the assembled crew.
Arnav, who’d slipped in beside me just before his mother had commanded silence, snagged my hand under the table and squeezed.
“Especially our new family member.”
Papi, who was at the other end of the table gestured to me with his head.
“Hear, hear.” Minal raised her glass. “To my younger brother finally bringing home someone worthy.”
Arnav bristled. “I’ve never brought anyone home before.” He gazed at me.
The weight of those words struck me—as he’d likely intended.
“I’m hungry.” Pooja’s daughter announced her desire for food just as Minal’s youngest banged her spoon on the tray of her highchair.
Everyone laughed.
Mama met my gaze. “You are welcome here.” She pointed to the food. “Eat.”
After a fraction of a pause, everyone reached for a bowl, a plate, or a serving spoon.
Arnav explained each dish as they were passed around. I was so excited that I took a little bit of everything. The Indian cuisine smelled divine and mixed with the traditional turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, and green beans.
The noise in the dining room overwhelmed at times—so much laughter. So much happiness. So reminiscent of my time at PJ’s.
I blinked several times as I ate the last of the mashed potatoes—always a favorite and the thing I always ate last. So I could savor it. Might’ve been a little cold by then, but I didn’t care.
The task of removing plates fell to some of the older grandchildren while Papi supervised the arrival of dessert.
I groaned inwardly as I hadn’t left an ounce of space. Nope. I’d filled every nook and cranny of my stomach.
“Just have a bite.” Arnav whispered in my ear. “It’s all good.”
How does he know? Yet he always did. Sensed things sometimes before I could even express them. And maybe that should’ve unnerved me. But it didn’t. It reassured.
I loved that he knew me so well.
Then he rose.
All conversation died as everyone turned to look at him.
My stomach clenched.
“I’m here today, with everyone I love most in the world.” He rested his hand on my shoulder.
Nope. This was not going to end well. My stomach roiled. So much for him knowing me.
“We know that, Uncle Arnav. You said this last year.” One of Pooja’s kids held up his glass. “Now we toast, then we get goodies.”
Okay…so maybe he just did this every year and—
“But this year is extra special.”
Aliyah sighed.
I’d managed to figure out which of the twins she was.
“Hey.” Arnav smiled. “I invited a guest here tonight because I’m hoping you’ll make him feel like family.”
“We already have.” Samara grasped my hand. “We like him. You can keep him.”
“Yes.” Papi eyed me. “Say it, dear boy.”
“Okay.” He drew in a deep breath. “I love Foster. With all my heart.”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He’s going to —
“He’s agreed to move in with me.”
My mind stuttered. Okay, just sharing what I’d agreed to this morning. His family would’ve found out anyway since undoubtedly they would all, at some point, come to visit. I’d worried he might have been leading up to something else.
“Into the basement?” Beena fanned herself. “Talk about moving down in the world.”
If her teasing hadn’t been clear, I might’ve been offended on Arnav’s behalf. He’d yet to show me his basement suite. If the thing was half as well appointed as this home, then the thing was way nicer than my place. Size didn’t always matter—quality did. My place was better than when I’d arrived, but her age was showing—despite my best efforts.
Arnav cleared his throat. “It’s a long story.”
“Please spare us.” Mama pointed to the food. “It needs to be eaten.”
“Oh, I want to hear this.” Minal patted her stomach. “I don’t mind letting dinner settle first.”
“Speak for yourself.” Pooja’s husband offered Minal a pointed look.
Which she pointedly ignored.
“You know I’ve been saving for a down payment.”
Samara gently rubbed shoulders with me. Whether to assure me Arnav would get to the point, or simply to empathize with my queasiness, I wasn’t certain.
“Right. Well, I have enough. Between Christmas and New Year’s, I hope to buy a house, and Foster has agreed to join me.” He gazed down at me. His mouth quirked. “Should I be on one knee?”
“Oh no, this is fine.” I managed to squeak that out.
“Christmas and New Year’s.” Rashmi stifled a yawn. “That’s, like, the worst time to buy.”
“No, it’s the worst time to sell.” Arnav puffed his chest a little. “I’m hoping to find someone who’s desperate.”
I blinked.
“Oh, or not.” He winced. “I was just thinking in terms of a deal, and—”
“I’m glad you asked him ahead of time.” Papi pointed. “Would be just like you to propose this in front of the entire family. Hey, you wait your turn.” He pointed to Meenakshi’s daughter who was trying to steal a sweet.
I cleared my throat.
All eyes turned to me.
“I have said yes.” I gazed up at Arnav. “The answer will always be yes. ” Also because Justin and I had spoken about what might happen if Arnav suggested we move our relationship to the next level. Or if I found the courage to. I’d expressed all kinds of reservations because of how badly I’d misjudged Howard. As Justin and I worked backward, though, I realized the signs had always been there—I’d just been too na?ve to see them. And Howard had known that—had exploited that.
When Justin and I spoke of my relationship with Arnav, things were the opposite. I knew where I stood. We communicated. We understood each other. And not just about the fact I wanted to be a pup some of the time. Or that I wanted a Daddy. In all other things, he treated me as an equal.
I rose, and snagged his hand, bringing it to my lips.
Mama sighed.
One of Minal’s boys snickered. Which earned him a hush now from his mother.
“I get it.” I offered a tentative smile.
Arnav blinked.
I gestured around the table. “You share everything with your family.”
“Not everything,” he murmured.
“Well, I should hope not.” Samara snickered.
Arnav glanced around me to give his sister the side-eye. Then he straightened and gazed down at me. “I didn’t think this through. Just…you remember that case? Well I billed a lot of hours. I did a bunch for free as well. My client’s uncle paid the bill in full. Even after my expenses, I did well.”
“Don’t forget you have to pay tax on that.” Rashmi wagged her finger at him.
“Oh yes, my darling accountant sister. You will have fun doing my taxes this year.”
“Move in together and live in sin for a year, and you become common-law spouses.” She pointed to the sweets. “Seriously?” She pouted at her mother.
“Spouses?” My heart seized. Not in panic, but in joy. I really could see us together forever. Which was nuts. Right?
“We’d prefer you marry before moving in together, but we’re traditionalists.” Papi eyed me. “Don’t feel bulldozed into doing something you’re not ready for.”
“I’m not.” I managed to stammer that.
“Good. Now everyone, eat.”
Despite everyone having consumed a huge dinner mere moments ago, they all descended like locusts on the desserts.
Arnav pressed a kiss to my cheek. “If we don’t join in, there won’t be anything left.”
“I’ll keep some safe for you.” Samara nodded at the two of us. “Go talk it out.” She snagged a plate and piled it high with desserts.
“Right.” He grabbed my hand and led me out of the warm dining room. “Grab your coat. Let’s go outside.”
“Well, that’s a way to cool down.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’ll always know how to warm you up.”
And so we grabbed our coats, shoved our feet into our shoes, and headed outside.