Chapter 24
The salty, cool winter breeze kissed Jaiman’s face as he walked along Bandstand with Kritika, a cup of cutting chai in hand. It was nearly eight-thirty p.m., and hundreds of people flocked to the seaside promenade. Cotton candy vendors, chaat stalls, and tea sellers called for customers, stopping occasionally to tempt passersby with their treats.
Jaiman was going to have to miss out on game night with the Deshpandes. Anshuman had already texted, Where you at??? to which he responded, Met up with Kritika—the Bumble girl. His best friend then sent a thumbs-up emoji, followed by the peach and eggplant emojis. Jaiman had wondered with a chuckle when Anshuman, the soon-to-be father of Tanu’s child, would grow up.
“So why haven’t you told this family friend how you feel?” Kritika challenged him, stopping to sit by the damp rocks. It was a low-tide night.
“I don’t know, I—fuck.” Jaiman considered it. “We’ve known each other forever. It would complicate my relationship with the rest of her family. And, well, we kissed once. It ended badly.”
“Why?” She frowned. “Is she a bad kisser?”
“No,” he smirked, “it was possibly the best kiss of my life. She ran away crying. This was last year.”
“Well, you’ve definitely sharpened your kissing skills since then.” Kritika bumped his hip with hers. “I would know.”
Jaiman’s laugh echoed in the humid air. “Thanks. How about you? Why haven’t you asked this co-worker out?”
“I haven’t dated a lot of women before,” Kritika admitted. She paused, then continued, “My parents know I’m bi, but they’re always telling me how life would be so much easier in this country if I just chose to date men. They have a point, I guess, and that’s why I came to the mixer, but…it’s so hard to get her out of my head.”
“It is hard, isn’t it?” Jaiman agreed. He set the empty cup down and rested his elbows on his knees. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to move on from Jia. I know I want to, but—”
“You don’t.” She shook her head, a grin escaping her lips. “You’re so in love with her that the pain of pining for her is more bearable than the pain of letting her go.”
Jaiman recalled, amid vague memories of their drunken date night, that Kritika was a writer. A pretty good one at that, he decided. “That should go in your next book.”
“Who says it isn’t already in there?” She beamed at him. “Maybe we should stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong if we tell them, and focus on the things that could go right.”
“Maybe we should.” Jaiman leaned back and stretched his arms. “All right. I’ll consider it, Kritika.”
“Then so will I.”
They sat there by the rocky sea for a while, trying to count stars in the polluted, albeit cloudless, sky, and Jaiman tried to think of reasons to tell Jia the truth about how he felt. If he really thought about it, there had been no signs from her that she loved him back, save for the unbearable sexual tension that hung in the air around them all the time. Anshuman might call Jia “clueless” often, but she had a considerable level of self-awareness about the list of things she did and didn’t want in her love life.
That list didn’t have Jaiman’s name on it. At least, not yet.
So the only reason that came to mind, to confess his love to Jia, was that he’d have closure and the chance to move on.
But he didn’t want that. Kritika was right. The pain of letting Jia Deshpande go from his heart was far worse than the pain of unrequited love. So, as they stared up at the four twinkling stars visible in the Mumbai sky, he decided that he’d enjoy this pain, and all that it offered, for as long as he could.
Jia waited by her car in her driveway for ten minutes, hoping to confront Jaiman without everyone else around. But he didn’t show up. Had he parked his car elsewhere and already made his way inside? Or would he be late? Maybe she’d just have to talk to him after she won game night. No way was she going to bed tonight clueless about Jaiman Patil’s mysterious love life.
She swallowed and unlocked the front door, walking in. Anshuman and Papa were setting up the Scrabble board—a game Jia always won at—while Tanu was telling Yadav bhaiyya off for cooking fish, one hand clamped over her mouth. Since her second trimester started, the smell of seafood made her throw up.
“Jia, you’re right on time,” Anshuman said, smiling at her from the living room floor. “Let’s play.”
She took off her heels and looked around the house, empty save for her dad, sister, and brother-in-law. Her eyes fell on the shoe rack beside the front door. Jaiman’s sneakers weren’t stacked neatly on the second row, his usual spot. She licked her dry lips. “Aren’t we waiting for Jaiman?”
“He’s on a date,” Anshuman replied. He stood up and headed to the kitchen.
“With who?” Jia raised a nonchalant brow, her heart thudding faster.
“Some woman from Bumble,” he replied.
“How long have they been…?” She left the question hanging.
“Uh, couple weeks, I think?” Anshuman wrapped his arms around Tanu’s waist, kissed her on the cheek, and coaxed her from the kitchen.
So she couldn’t have been the woman who had broken his heart. Who was she, then? Was it serious between them? “But he never misses game night,” Jia said, her voice elevating.
Papa tutted. “Jaiman deserves to meet someone nice; the poor boy is always by himself.”
“Come on, Jia.” Anshuman raised his brows suggestively as he sat down again, Tanu beside him on the floor. “Jaiman probably has certain needs that are more pressing than beating you at Scrabble.”
Jia’s face flushed at the insinuation he was making. So Jaiman had ignored all the other women at the speed dating mixer, flirted only with Jia, and was now hooking up with this Bumble woman instead of spending time with his loved ones?
Papa coughed loudly. “Let’s get our heads out of the gutter and start the game.”
Tanu nodded. “Let’s do it.”
As they played, every word on the board seemed to taunt Jia—Jealous, Date, Citrus, Broken—and the best she could manage was coming in at third place, only a few points higher than Papa, who could never spell a word correctly for the life of him.
“I won?” Anshuman barked out a laugh as Tanu proudly kissed him on the cheek. “Jia, what happened? You didn’t even get one double word score.”
Jia got up and wiped her sweaty hands on her dress. She didn’t have a retort in her. Not tonight. “I’ll be in my room.”
Tanu looked up at her in concern from the floor, but Jia only shook her head. Later, she mouthed. As she started up the staircase, Papa stopped her. “Beta, can we talk?”
She followed him inside his home office, wondering what this was about. Papa ushered her over to his laptop and waved the mouse until the screen lit up. “I want you to meet someone. A matchmaker.”
Jia bent down to inspect the webpage. A photo of an older woman with graying hair, dressed in a silk saree, greeted her: Radha Sethia, the very matchmaker who had set Papa and Mamma up. Jia’s throat tightened. “Papa, why now?”
He sat down in his office chair and showed her Radha’s portfolio. In her thirty-plus years of matchmaking, she’d set up two popular Bollywood actors as well as hundreds of non-famous couples, all of whom were now married. “I was initially thinking of asking her to mentor you and help you with your own business someday. But Tanu told me you went to a dating mixer today, which is the first time I’ve heard you show any interest in relationships.” He paused and took off his spectacles. “Maybe she can help you with your business and your love life.”
Jia started to protest, but he stopped her with a raised hand. “I’ve had my fair share of solitude since your mother passed away, beta. I don’t want you to spend your life alone like me. You’ll be twenty-seven in a few months. It’s high time you find love too. Her assistant said she can meet you later this month.”
She scrolled through the pictures of all the happy couples on their wedding days, knowing Papa had a point. Radha’s mentorship would do wonders for Jia someday. With the “Mimosa Match!” column still a possibility, though, she didn’t need to start her matchmaking business anytime soon.
As for her own love life…there were only two people Jia knew who she could see herself falling for: Jaiman Patil, who was likely in bed with a different woman this very minute, and TheReMix, who was still a mystery to her.
So she pushed down the part of her that couldn’t stop thinking about Jaiman’s big brown eyes or TheReMix’s encouraging words, and nodded resolutely. “You’re right, Papa. I’ll meet Radha.”
When Jia got to her room, she drafted an email to TheReMix.
Subject: Dating update
Hiiii!
The speed dating mixer was tonight, and I missed you there! It would have been a lot more fun if you’d shown up. I didn’t connect with anyone there, then again, we were only able to talk for seven minutes before switching partners. Shouldn’t love be strong enough to spark in seven minutes? God, I wish you’d been there.
On the bright side, my unofficial client had a great time. She exchanged numbers with three men, so hopefully the matchmaking column is still on track.
Oh, and speaking of meeting someone great: My dad wants me to work with the family matchmaker, and I agreed. It’s high time I found someone too, right?
Talk soon
Love hard love better,
J
She hit Send and switched tabs to her WordPress admin portal. It had been a while since she’d updated her blog readers on Charu’s matchmaking, and now she had her own situation to tell them about. Meeting her parents’ matchmaker—the literal reason for her existence—would be amazing in itself, but the best part would be finding love with someone who actually wanted something meaningful with her. No longer would Jia settle for seven flirty minutes, decades of simmering, frustrating sexual tension, or anonymous pining for a pen pal.
From this moment forward, she would choose love.