Chapter 20
Jaiman swiped the basketball out from under Anshuman’s legs and dunked it right through the hoop, cheering. “And the game is mine!”
Anshuman leaned his hands on his knees and exhaled loudly. “You’re tall and young. Try winning a game when you’re thirty-six, how’s that?”
Laughing, Jaiman slapped his best friend on the back, and they sat down by the pool in his apartment complex. A couple was teaching their kids how to swim in the kiddie pool, both toddlers wearing water wings and splashing water everywhere. Anshuman’s eyes were steadily on the kids, a flicker of a smile on his lips.
“Can I expect good news soon?” Jaiman teased.
“Maybe.” Anshuman took a big chug from his water bottle, wiping sweat from his forehead, his gaze not wavering from the family in the pool.
The parents had just helped one of the toddlers lie on his back and kick his legs out, and the other toddler let out a scream because she wanted Daddy’s attention too. Jaiman chuckled. “I hope you’re sure, man.”
“Piss off.” Anshuman put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, smiling contentedly. “It took me long enough to find the woman of my dreams, and it only happened because my sister-in-law sprained her ankle.” He ignored Jaiman’s scoff and added, “I’ve wanted a family with Tanu since the night of our first date. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Jaiman didn’t know if he wanted kids; he didn’t even know if he’d get married, although of course he wanted to. He’d have to get over Jia and fall in love with someone else for that to happen. Kritika’s number was still saved in his contacts, and she was probably waiting for him to text or call her and set up another date. After Jia’s admission this morning that she would have “tried to kiss anyone,” Jaiman should have been more motivated to get over her. Why would he willingly put himself through the shitstorm that was love for a woman who would never feel the same way? Jaiman tugged on his lower lip to keep his eyes from misting.
He just couldn’t bring himself to send that first message to Kritika and prove to his heart that he was ready to let go of Jia. As scary as it was to stay hung up on Jia, it was scarier to imagine moving on. He bit the side of his nail, watching Anshuman grin goofily at the family in the pool. Then he said, “Jia tried to kiss me last night.”
Anshuman turned toward him so fast he almost fell off the chair. “What?”
“Yeah.” Jaiman exhaled. “I didn’t let it happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because she was drunk, and sad, and alone, and clearly not in love with me.” He put his head in his hands and said, his voice muffled, “She came over this morning with my favorite granola to clarify that she would have tried to kiss anyone in her bed.”
“She said that?” Anshuman winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, well.” Jaiman barked out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s all the closure I need to move on.”
“That’s not closure,” he retorted. “That’s just her being clueless as always. Do you”—he shifted in his seat—“do you want me to talk to Tanu, see if she can find out—”
“No!” Jaiman exclaimed in a voice so squeaky one of the toddlers giggled. “Don’t do that,” he said, clearing his throat. “Nobody tells anybody anything.”
“All right.” Anshuman grinned, then smacked Jaiman on the shoulder. “Yes. Tanu’s pregnant. We’re telling Papa and Jia this afternoon, so don’t tell them I told you first, okay?”
“Of course,” Jaiman promised, clapping a hand right back on Anshuman’s shoulder and smiling. “I’m so happy for you. You’ll make a great dad.”
Anshuman grinned. He got up to grab a towel, and Jaiman opened WhatsApp and texted Kritika. Hey, Jaiman here. How’s your weekend going? He wanted to be sure of something too, for a change.
Jia was putting the finishing touches on her next post and playing around with a new color scheme for the blog when Tanu sat down next to her with a curious look and a “Whatcha doin’?”
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Jia retorted, closing her laptop and setting it aside on the coffee table. Then she perked up, which was hard considering the hangover. “Are you joining us for lunch?”
“Mmhmm.” Anshuman came over and took the third seat on the couch, and Tanu kissed her husband on the cheek. “Jaiman’s joining us too, by the way.”
“Why?” Jia looked up and groaned, hoping her cheeks weren’t as visibly hot as they felt. “Why does he always have to join us?” Seeing him this morning was embarrassing enough, but now she couldn’t even run away from him because they would be at the same lunch table.
“Because he’s the coolest guy ever.” Anshuman came to his best friend’s defense. “And we love him. And—” He paused midsentence and shrugged. “And he deserves to be loved.”
“Totally.” Jia looked at her manicure from last week, so they wouldn’t notice or comment on her flushed face. One of the nails was chipping. Maybe she’d go to the nail salon soon. Anshuman’s eyes were still on her, while Tanu looked back and forth between them, clearly confused. Jia met his gaze and raised a brow. “What?”
His eyes hardened. “Nothing. Come on, let’s set the table before Jaiman gets here.”
Jia followed them into the kitchen, where Yadav bhaiyya was stirring a pot of creamy spinach gravy with a ladle. He folded his hands at Anshuman and Tanu. “Namaste, sir, madam.”
“Smells amazing, Yadav bhaiyya,” Tanu said, taking a spoonful of the green gravy and sneaking a taste. “Delicious.”
Yadav bhaiyya blushed. “Thank you, madam.”
“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” Jaiman stood in the doorway, leaning one arm against the frame, one leg crossed over the other. Jia’s heart twisted at the sight of his chiseled, muscular frame, not to mention his nonchalance. Was he really okay, or was he just pretending? Were they still okay?
“Well”—Anshuman gestured for them to head to the dining table, where Papa sat reading Forbes magazine with a bowl of sweet curd in front of him—“we have some news.”
Papa looked up at that, his jaw slack. “What news?” He stared from Tanu to Anshuman, who had his arms around his wife’s waist, both of their lips stretched wide.
Jia’s eyes shot toward Tanu and the loose, off-white kurta she wore today. Tanu always wore tank tops and jeans. Her eyes lingered on the glow on her sister’s face, the beaming of her smile. And then she screamed, “Are you pregnant?!”
Tanu and Anshuman exchanged glances, then nodded as one unit. “We are!”
Jia’s shouts of sheer bliss were so loud Yadav bhaiyya came scrambling out of the kitchen, holding the ladle. “Is everything okay?”
“Yadav bhaiyya”—Jaiman put both his hands on the cook’s shoulders—“Tanu’s going to be eating for two today.”
He gasped. “Is Tanu madam pregnant? Oh, I know just the mango pickle to make! Do we have mangoes?” He walked back into the kitchen, mumbling under his breath about the recipe.
“And we want Jia and Jaiman to be godparents,” Anshuman said. He studied both of them, nearly welling up. “Because you two mean everything to us.”
Jia threw her arms around Tanu and sobbed into her shoulder. “I’m so happy. I’m going to be an aunt! Auntie Jia!”
Lunch was full of chatter and the clattering of plates and spoons. Yadav bhaiyya’s mango pickle, prepared especially for Tanu, was tangy, sweet and spicy, and lip-smacking to taste. Tanu ate most of it, although Jia didn’t know if she was actually craving some, or if she was just playing along with the pregnant-Indian-woman-craves-pickle stereotype.
Jaiman kept texting as he ate. He looked mostly indifferent, Jia noted, but he cracked a grin every couple of minutes. She sat a few seats away, and as she craned her neck to see who he was texting, she caught Anshuman’s curious eye and looked back into her plate. Busted.
“Well, I’d better get back to the pub,” Jaiman said as he put his sneakers on. “Flora’s on her way there.”
Jia almost exhaled in relief. It was just Flora he had been texting. But wait, why did she care? Whatever. She grabbed her laptop and went upstairs to finish the rest of the blog post from her bed.
Her phone buzzed seconds after she’d hit Publish. Wow, did she have a comment already? Was it TheReMix?
Nope. Her heart rate returned to normal. It was just a text from an unknown number. Hi Jia! Harish here. One of your co-workers gave me your number after the party.
Jia rolled her eyes. What business did her co-worker have to go around sharing her contact information with complete strangers? They were a journalist. They should know better.
Jia:
Oh hey
Harish:
Did you by any chance leave an earring here?
Nope
Okay just thought I’d check
So you texted every woman who was at your party trying to find the owner of a lost earring? You might as well have gone door to door
Not every woman
Just the beautiful ones
Jia’s cheeks flushed, but she pulled her blanket around herself and typed back a response furiously.
Yes, I’m beautiful, but no, it’s not my earring
Cool. Hope to see you at VV sometime
You do realize I’m Jaiman’s
She paused. Jaiman’s what? Never mind.
You do realize I’m a regular at J’sPub?
Doesn’t mean you can’t visit. See you around, Jia
She chose not to reply, but she did save his number. His display picture was from somewhere in Kerala, by the looks of it, on the backwaters. He stood smirking on a boat, his body turned toward the sea, his dark eyes looking right into the camera, like he knew something she didn’t.
Jia closed the picture and turned off her phone screen, exhaling. Harish Chandran. There was something about him—something surprisingly compelling—that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, probably his determination to go after what he wanted. If he weren’t Jaiman’s archenemy, Jia might have considered getting to know him better. Maybe he could be a good match for Charu?
No. If Jaiman hated Harish that much, there was surely a reason for it. Besides, judging by the way he was trying to flirt with Jia, he was probably a player. Charu deserved better.
She pulled her laptop closer and opened her Love Better with J email account. She stared at the Compose New Email button for a good three seconds before clicking it and typing out an email to TheReMix.
Subject: Matchmaking help
Hiiiii!
I hope you’ve been well since we last talked. Has your work stuff calmed down by now? I’ve been sooooo anxious about my unofficial matchmaking client, remember what I wrote in my last post? It was even worse than I let on. The guy kissed ME instead. What the hell? And since then, she’s been reluctant to take my help with dating apps. The thing is, she really wants to get married to the right guy, and I know I can help her, even if I made a mistake setting her up with Mr. Too Much Tongue Douchebag. And with the matchmaking column at stake, I cannot fuck this up.
So I was thinking I’d suggest she try out a speed-dating mixer for Mumbai singles next week, and maybe I’ll even go with her. It’s probably time I found myself someone too.
What do you think? I’m not pushing her too much, am I?
Love hard love better,
J
She reread the email, then hesitated and typed out one final sentence at the end.
PS: Since you’re single too, would you like to join us at the mixer?
She hit Send and shut her laptop, breathing hard. God, I hope this wasn’t a mistake.