Chapter 32
11:30 pm. Marine Drive. Tonight.
Jaiman frowned at the words staring back at him from the email he’d received this morning but only just opened. And the sender was Love Better with Jia. Not J. He hadn’t logged in to his alias email account since the night he told Jia he was moving to San Francisco, so he had no idea when, why, or how she had revealed her true identity on the blog. Now, ninety minutes before the New Year, he had a major decision to make.
Jia didn’t know he was TheReMix. He’d done a good job hiding it, or so he hoped. He had no idea how she would react if she found out—knowing Jia, she’d never speak to him again. He’d start January having lost the woman he’d loved his whole life.
Then again, he was leaving, and she was looking to find love with someone else. He’d already lost her. Going there and coming clean would at least mean he could stop hiding his online persona from her. With the way the email was phrased, though…why now? Why did Jia want to meet TheReMix tonight, on New Year’s Eve? Did she want to kiss him at midnight?
Jaiman gulped, setting the phone down and pacing back and forth in his living room. He wanted to kiss Jia again so badly it was tearing him apart.
Maybe if he went tonight and told Jia the truth, it would be easier on him. She’d be furious, she would cut all ties with him, and that would be it. Then he could leave the country with a clean slate and conscience. No more lying, no more pretending, no more pining. He’d have the closure he had always wanted.
“Okay,” he mumbled to himself. “I’ll go.”
Jaiman got dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt, rolling the sleeves above his forearms. It would be a breezy night by the sea, but Mumbai winters were nonexistent, and with his nerves being on overdrive, he didn’t need to keep himself warm.
Once he was in his car, he exhaled, telling himself this was a good idea.
The car dashboard read 10:56 p.m. Jaiman cursed as he pulled onto the main road, driving toward the Bandra–Worli Sea Link. On a good day, Marine Drive was forty minutes away from home. But with this being the wildest, craziest night of the year, he would be lucky to arrive by midnight.
“Please, please, please,” he whispered each time he stopped amid the hundreds of honking cars around him. Every second counting down on the traffic timer felt like eternity. Jaiman didn’t dare turn on the radio or play music. Nothing would distract him from his churning gut, the honking of horns, and his mind whirring with the possibility that he would lose Jia in every single way tonight.
By the time he found parking and walked over to Marine Drive at 11:47, he realized one thing: This was a three-kilometer stretch. There were hundreds of people swarming around the promenade, all of whom were dressed up in their finest clothes and likely drunk. A guitarist played an old Bollywood song somewhere in the distance, the plucking melodious sound distinct against the buzzing of voices and the gushing of the sea.
How was he supposed to find Jia amid all of this commotion? She didn’t know TheReMix’s identity or appearance, so she didn’t know who to look for. This was so confusing. Jaiman closed his eyes, put a hand to his heart, and channeled his inner Charu Gavaskar. Lead me to Jia, he instructed his gut.
Jaiman pushed and prodded his way through the crowd, searching for the most beautiful woman he’d ever had the privilege of knowing. She would probably be wearing pink. He held his phone in his hand, his Gmail notifications on “loud” in case she emailed TheReMix again.
It was now 11:54. He cursed, craning his neck, as he scanned the length of the promenade as far as his eyes would allow him. Thank goodness he was taller than most people here. Where was she? He rested against the low wall surrounding the sea, pausing to catch his breath. Maybe he would email her himself, or perhaps call—
“It’s you.”
Jaiman jumped. He closed his eyes, let out a whoosh of breath, and turned around, his whole body trembling. Jia stood before him, wearing a ruffled pink dress and sky-high silver heels, one hand cocked on her hip. She was smirking as she sized him up. “Hmm,” she said. “You’re late, but you’re better-looking than I pictured.”
Jaiman licked his suddenly dry lips, clutching the ledge behind him for support. “You knew?”
“Well”—Jia walked closer to him, interlocking her fingers—“it took me until you let something slip the other night.” That night when he was drunk? Maybe he’d said something about the blog or TheReMix without remembering it the morning after. Shit.
“Jia, let me explain—”
“No.” She took another step closer, allowing their bodies to brush together just the slightest bit. Her rosy perfume wafted toward him, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to inhale visibly and embarrass himself. Her makeup was subtle in shades of brown and pink today, that mole next to her eye bright with her twinkling gaze. “Let me tell you something first, Jaiman.”
He nodded.
Jia sat down on the ledge, brushing her hair off her shoulders. “You asked me a question that night. I’m going to answer it now.”
Jaiman scratched the back of his neck and joined her. Their knees touched, sparking something deep within his belly. “I don’t remember a lot about that conversation—”
“You asked me why anyone would need you here.” She took a deep breath, and as she exhaled, she continued, “Here’s why. Because you would make the best godfather to Tanu and Anshuman’s kid. Because Papa would give up food if you weren’t the one cooking for him. Because—”
“Jia, they’d be fine without me—”
Jia laughed. “Because you’re so stubborn you don’t let me finish talking. Because those Whipped Roses won’t make themselves. Because you’re funny and hot and smart, sometimes too smart, and you challenge me more than anybody else. Because you’re like family. Because you’re Jaiman Patil, and despite this long list, that’s enough reason for me to need you.”
Jaiman looked her up and down, at her heaving chest, her pink face, trying to figure out if this was going where he hoped it was. “What are you saying?” he asked slowly.
“God, Jaiman, isn’t it obvious?” Jia sat closer and took his hand in hers, stroking his palm with her thumb, and his insides flip-flopped like he was a teenager. The people around them started cheering as the countdown began. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”
Jia’s eyes fell to his lips, and she added, “I have one final reason.”
He swallowed, flicking his gaze down to her perfect pink pout. “Which is?”
And just as people yelled, “Happy New Year,” she leaned forward and kissed him.
Whoa.
Jia pulled away after the shortest of seconds, just as he leaned in. “Because,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over everyone’s cheers and screams, “I’ve tried and failed to stop replaying our kiss since the first time. And I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you again sooner.”
Jaiman had never heard a more romantic speech in his life, not even in the rom-com movies Tanu and Jia had forced him to watch throughout their teen years. He looked around at the crowd, then bit his lip to hold back his smile. “How comfortable are you with PDA?”
Jia’s lips twitched. “I’ve never done it, but maybe I should try it and find out?”
That was all he needed to hear. He pulled her closer by the back of her head and kissed her, loving how sweet she tasted, how perfect her waist felt against his other hand. She fit his body like it belonged to her. Maybe because it did. She’d claimed him even before she knew it. She’d claimed him the night he imprinted his lips on hers at the wedding. Nothing could ever compare to kissing Jia, the woman who made Jaiman feel at home. Like he belonged somewhere.
The thought reminded Jaiman of his decision to move. He pulled away, fighting back tears. “But I’ve already arranged everything. I’m leaving,” he whispered.
Jia wiped the first tear sliding down his cheekbone with her finger. “Let’s take a walk,” she declared, standing up.
There weren’t a lot of things that could make Jia Deshpande nervous—save for apologies, first kisses, and declarations of love. And as she walked along Marine Drive, hand in hand with the love of her life, she was absolutely terrified.
It was time to find out if her idea—and her feelings—would be enough reason for Jaiman to stay in India and chase his dreams again.
Jaiman’s hand was warm, rough, and soothing in hers, his thumb running along her wrist every few seconds, sending jittery heat down to every part of her body.
She exhaled and spun around, wrapping her arms around Jaiman’s shoulders.
Jaiman regarded her, a curious eyebrow quirked, his hands coming around her waist as if instinctively. “What’s on your mind?”
She looked at their shoes, her silver heels and his simple Nike sneakers, and smiled. How could they be so different and yet complement each other so perfectly, just like she had always wanted? How had she gotten so lucky? “Jaiman”—she looked back up at him—“I want you to let me talk for the next few minutes without interrupting me.”
“Damn, am I getting two romantic confessions in one night?” His fingers curled lower on her body, and Jia held back a sigh. This man…
“Don’t distract me. In fact”—Jia slid away from his grasp—“some distance might help me articulate my plan without thinking about kissing you again.”
Jia let out a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I’ve come up with a strategy to help you with the pub. No, shush,” she added when he started to argue, “just hear me out. What’s the one thing that you’ve always loved the most about running J’s Pub?”
Jaiman stared at her for a moment, then raised his hand. “Permission to talk?” When she nodded, holding back her laugh, he said, his eyes on the crowd around them, “The regulars who always dropped by and made J’s Pub their home.”
“And…?”
He paused, his forehead wrinkling. “And your granola?”
“What else? About your work at the pub, specifically.”
Jaiman exhaled, thinking. Then he smiled wistfully. “Making you try my cocktails.”
Jia screamed “Exactly!” so loud that he jumped. “Tell me this: If Tanu were a cocktail, what would she be?”
His answer was immediate. “A strawberry gin and tonic with black pepper.”
“What about Anshuman?”
“Hmm. Wheat beer, lime juice, a touch of agave syrup.”
Jia turned him around, pointing to a woman behind them who was posing for a photo, dressed in a sexy black cocktail dress and red pumps. “Her?”
Jaiman stared back at Jia in confusion. “Why are you asking me all this?”
She only frowned at him, her arms folded, and he sighed and looked the woman over. “Champagne, jalape?o, guava juice.”
Jia couldn’t help the grin that overtook her face. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”
He ran one hand through his hair. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
“Let J’s Pub be dead, but bring J’s Cocktails to life, Jaiman.” She pressed the side of his wrist to her lips, inhaling his citrusy scent mixed with the salty tang of the sea. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she’d pass out any moment now. “Make your cocktails the showstoppers of the menu. Run a special buy one, get one event every week where you and your bartenders whip up a customized cocktail for every patron based on your first impression of them.”
Jaiman started to shake his head, his jaw clenched, but then he squinted at nothing in particular. “Huh. I…that…how did you come up with this?”
She beamed up at him. “I guess I’m not a B-minus at everything.”
“You’re not a B-minus at anything, Jia,” he agreed, his mouth pulling up into a smile. “This is a solid idea, one that I can see myself falling in love with, but…I already told Mr. Jha to find a new tenant.”
“So what?” Jia took his arms and wrapped them around her back, the top of her head resting next to his face as they looked at the high-tide waves. “It’s only been a few days. You’re allowed to change your mind. You have to try, right?”
“I guess you’re right.” He pressed his face into the side of her cheek, and she squealed, goosebumps sprouting along her skin. “I’ll call Mr. Jha tomorrow and run this idea by him. I think I have just enough to take a chance on the lease for…J’s Cocktails. My dad’s gonna be pissed, though.”
“Let him,” she retorted. “This is about you—your business, your dream, your life.”
He smiled. “A life that now includes you.”
Something crossed Jia’s mind, and she said, “That thing you said at the mixer about giving up on figuring me out a long time ago…”
Jaiman laughed. “Yeah. After you pushed me away at Tanu’s wedding, I thought you’d never want me back. I always had hope, but I stopped expecting anything to happen again.”
Jia tilted her head back to study him. “But didn’t you kiss me because of that bet you and Anshuman’s cousin made about landing me?”
“Of course not!” His hold on her tightened, as though he were scared to lose her. “I shut that conversation down right away, Jia. Didn’t you catch that part of it?”
“I thought you kissed me because he challenged you, but all this while, I couldn’t stop thinking about how, when we were kissing, it was…” Jia pressed into his body and sighed, relief sinking into her bones. “It was like shopping, but better.”
Jaiman threw his head back and laughed. “I love you.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he froze. Licking his lips, he added, “I mean, I—well—”
Relief, thrill, and nervousness surged through Jia’s veins. Nobody had said that to her before. And she had never imagined saying it back. Until now. “I love you too, you fool.”
He spun her around and kissed her forehead, his lips staying there for a good ten seconds. And that meant so much more to Jia than any of their other kisses, because you didn’t do forehead kisses with someone you wanted to land, you did them with someone you wanted to keep.
He wanted to keep her.
And she wanted to keep him too.
“But when did you know you loved me?” she asked when he pulled away. “Was it before Tanu’s wedding, or after? Or since we were kids?”
Jaiman tucked a lock of her short hair behind her ears, smiling fondly. “It’s hard to say. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. It’s been years, decades, I…I can’t remember a time I wasn’t in love with you.”
Jia put a hand to her heart. “Jaiman Patil, you’re such a romantic.”
“What about you?” He bit his lip. “Have you always loved me too?”
“I think yes,” she said, nodding, “but it took until I met the matchmaker for me to know for sure. I might write about love all the time, but I didn’t see it when it was right in front of me. And now…you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” he agreed.
They stood in silence, gazing at the picturesque sea in front of them, the buzz of drunk, merry people white noise in the background. Then, as though he’d been brought back to reality, Jaiman jumped. He took his phone out and winced. “Fuck, it’s so late, the roads will be jammed. Did you bring your car, or should I drop you?”
Jia laughed. “Well, I told Papa I’d be with Tanu tonight, and she agreed to cover for me, so it wouldn’t make sense for me to go back.”
His lips twitched, as though he were trying really, really hard not to smile. “So you’re not going home until morning?”
“I’m not,” she said as her skin burned with the insinuation of those words. Could he see how her chest had flushed? “Can I, um, stay at your place?”
Instead of answering, Jaiman pressed his lips to hers. When he pulled away, the smile on his face dripped with both “Aren’t you adorable?” and “I can’t believe you’re mine to keep.”
Her body hummed with desire as they drove home, his hand resting on her bare knee almost the whole time. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him, to touch him, feel him, love him with every inch of her being.
Jia Deshpande had waited twenty-six long years for consummate love. Now she finally had it, with the best man in the world.