Chapter 3 #2
Haris’s mother suddenly came into view as she marched toward them, bunching up her flowing sari to keep it from dragging against the ground.
Hena was about to greet her. To congratulate her.
Her nephew was marrying Hena’s sister. But Auntie Nipa wouldn’t meet Hena’s gaze. It was as though she wasn’t there.
“Your cousin needs you,” Auntie Nipa told Haris sharply, wedging herself firmly between them.
“Sure, I’ll be there in—”
“You’re his best man for a reason. Now, please.”
She shot him a look, and it was clear there would be no arguing with her.
“To be continued?” Haris gave Hena an apologetic look before being carted off.
Khaled was currently eating karahi chicken with Lulu, chatting and laughing.
Best man or not, Haris was definitely not needed.
Hena knew the real reason his mother gripped him by the elbow, dragging him away while whispering furiously in his ear.
She didn’t want her son anywhere near Hena.
If disappearances were contagious, Hena was Typhoid Mary.
Even if Haris didn’t blame her for his friend’s absence, his mother certainly did.
“Is it just me or is this line not moving?”
Hena startled and turned to see Reza behind her. The handsome man from the check-in counter.
“It’s not you. It’s really not moving,” she told him, grateful for the distraction. “And it probably won’t anytime soon.”
“Not sure I follow.”
“Have you noticed you’re the last person in line?” she asked him, and he looked back to confirm it. “It’s going to stay that way because everyone else is cutting in.”
He peered over her shoulder at the single-file crowd ahead of them. Auntie Hanifa, the meddlesome busybody Hena had known all her life, grabbed a plate and slid in with her friends toward the front of the line. Other aunties and uncles were similarly following suit.
“So we’re here for the long haul, huh?”
“The line will move. Eventually.”
He shook his head and laughed, and Hena’s shoulders unclenched. This man was the definition of smoldering. And the jaw on him…she was tempted to reach up and graze it.
“Inquiring minds must know,” he said. “How fancy is your VIP suite?”
“Haven’t had a chance to swing by it yet.”
“My room is nice, don’t get me wrong, but I’m guessing yours is out of this world.”
“I’ll keep you posted,” she told him. It was refreshing talking to someone unfamiliar with her baggage. “How are you connected to the groom?”
“I was Khaled’s RA his freshman year. We only overlapped a year, but we kept in touch. His taste in nineties music is questionable, but otherwise he’s a great guy.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“The timing for this wedding was perfect. I caught my flight right before an ice storm hit Chicago. Floridians are not meant to live in frigid temps.”
“You’re a Florida boy?”
“Orlando, born and raised.” He nodded. “I work for a security firm out there. It’s great living on Lake Michigan in the summer, but not so much this time of year.”
As the line limped forward, he asked what she did for a living, and she told him she was an interior designer. She helped her clients choose the right paint color for their home spas and indoor theaters and sourced the perfect teak table to go with the century-old Persian rug in their library.
“Do you ever do out-of-town consultations?” he asked.
“You interested?”
“I might be.”
A smile played on his lips, and there went her butterflies again, fluttering full steam ahead.
They finally made it through the line. Holding her dinner plate, she scanned the crowd.
Lulu was with her fiancé and his family.
There wasn’t a single table Hena felt comfortable joining.
A familiar feeling washed over her—loneliness, despite being surrounded by people.
“Join me?” Reza asked. He pointed to a quiet table tucked in the corner.
“Feeling sorry for me?”
“More like I want to keep talking to the prettiest girl in the room.”
Shameless flirt. She pushed back a smile at his brazenness. Why not? This would be a long week; she might as well make an ally in this sea of side-eyeing aunties.
He set his plate down and promised to be right back before striding toward the bar to get them drinks. Sitting down, she took a bite of biryani and closed her eyes. All right, this she had missed. South Florida eats couldn’t be beat.
Just then, a voice cut through the din.
“All I’m saying is, her being here highlights the family’s poor judgment in allowing this marriage to happen in the first place.”
Hena’s eyes flew open. A group of aunties were huddled in a darkened corner of the room, not far from her. She recognized them—including Auntie Nipa, Haris’s mother, and of course Auntie Hanifa, the leader of the pack.
“Come now.” Auntie Hanifa waved a hand dismissively. “How do you turn down the chance to be in bed with the wealthiest family in town? Who wouldn’t want to hitch their star to one of those wagons?”
“Money is good and well, but how did wealth work out for the men in their lives?” Haris’s mother set her hands on her hips. “Look at their father. Missing. Nasir. Missing. And by missing, we know what that really means.”
“Latif died in a boating accident,” said Auntie Gudi.
“So they claim. They found the boat, but did they ever find the body? Exactly. We all know they own the police,” Auntie Hanifa said. “Besides, how do you explain Nasir? They couldn’t even be bothered to make up a story with him.”
“Meanwhile, Hena runs off to California. Couldn’t get away fast enough,” Auntie Usmana chimed in. “You know she’s having an affair with a married man? That’s what I heard, anyway.”
“Is that right? I’d heard it was a married woman,” Auntie Hanifa replied.
Hena suppressed an eye roll. Lulu had said to let her know if anyone was whispering about Hena at this event, but if she were to round up everyone, this would be an empty wedding hall.
Besides, she’d heard versions of this all before.
She had turned her attention back to her meal when Auntie Hanifa landed the knockout punch.
“She fell pregnant. That’s what I heard. Didn’t want to keep the baby, so she wanted to flee to California. Easier laws there to take care of that sort of thing. Nasir wouldn’t dream of it. He put his foot down, and then, well, I suppose he became inconvenient.”
Her mouth parted. This one was new. Completely false—but new. She looked over. They were watching her. They’d made sure she heard. They wanted to see how she’d react.
She kept her expression impassive as she stood up. They could say whatever they wanted, but she was done listening.
“Leaving already?” Reza was back with drinks in hand.
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
She looked at him. Hesitated. She’d spent her whole life caring what everyone here thought. But taking in his full mouth and his warm gaze, she felt a rush of boldness.
“Think you can be discreet?” she asked.
He tilted his head. “What do you have in mind?”
“Want to check out my suite firsthand?” She reached into her purse, and pulled out her keycard. “Fourth floor. Private entrance. Finish your meal and join me?”
“Ah.” A grin tugged at his mouth, as he took it from her. “I would love that.”
She walked over to Lulu. Let her sister know she was exhausted—and she was. It took a lot of energy to pretend that the eyes shooting daggers her way didn’t actually feel like they were piercing her.
Her eyes met Reza’s, and he gave a subtle nod. She turned the corner and headed down the hallway to the elevators.
One day down. Seven more to go.