Chapter 7 Nisha #2
It’s all hand-scraped wood floors, plush carpets, buttery leather sofas, and throw blankets in every color that cost more than my mortgage. Have I had to suppress my mild urge to straighten and fluff some of her throw pillows? Yes. But I’ve controlled it on account of not appearing insane.
There’s a professionally created cheeseboard on the enormous stone table in the center of the room, with all sorts of artisanal cheeses, dried fruits, and cured meats. But there’s also a massive glass bowl full of Hot Cheetos. Because, as per Piper, it’s “balance”.
“The man is in town to win his ex-wife back,” she continues. “And he isn’t going to stop with just moving into her neighborhood . . . He wants to move back into her panties.”
I glare at my best friend before turning it to my sister.
We aren’t identical—her long, tight curls to my straight, shoulder-length hair, her golden tanned skin to my deeper undertones, her coffee-brown eyes to my onyx—but there’s no mistaking we’re sisters.
And where she’s soft curves in that femme fatale kind of way, I’m lean and edgy in a switchblade kind of way.
I’d sent her a text after this morning’s impromptu visit from my ex-husband.
Me
Did Patton move into the house in front of mine because of you? I swear to God, Sarina, I will go back in time and eat you in the womb so that Mom never had twins.
Her response made me want to strangle her even more.
Sarina Arora
OMG, calm down, Hannibal Lecter. I just innocently told Troy to let Patton know that the house was for sale, and that you could often be seen watering your precious plants wearing your tiny shorts from its front windows. How were Troy and I supposed to know Patton would actually buy the damn house?
“Don’t even think I’ve forgotten that this is all your fault,” I say to my sister, who pretends to hide behind her wineglass. “You’re the reason I’m going to be wary every time I open my front door.”
Sarina’s shoulders shake as she tries to conceal her laughter. “But what if it’s his dog peeing on one of your marigolds or something?”
Oh, this little shit is asking for it today.
It’s no surprise my friends and sister had a field day, bowling over with laughter, when I told them about the lovely greeting from Patton’s dog this morning. How he’d urinated on my plant, then proceeded to sniff me like I was hiding narcotics inside my vagina.
I also told them about how Patton had shown up to the dojang the night before.
And because none of them are questioning my accusation of my sister, I have a strong suspicion they all knew she’d crafted this plan.
“Firstly,” I mock seethe, “if you think I’d waste my soil on budget seasonals like marigolds, then you don’t know me at all. Secondly, I hope that dog and his owner like surprise showers, because I’m going to be installing a motion-triggered sprinkler system around my plants.”
“But doesn’t that mean anyone on your porch would get wet?” Bella asks, clearly over-analyzing my half-baked plan. “Like, a legitimate delivery guy or an unsuspecting Bible thumper?”
I take another sip of my favorite cocktail, relishing its sweetness. “It’s like that old saying: one dog’s overactive bladder ruins it for the entire neighborhood.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that say—”
“Now you have,” I state. “It was a proverb born from pain around 500 B.C. when a floriculturist in Mesopotamia lost his prized mulberry tree to an obnoxious donkey named Walter. He cried for a few days, then he invented the fence.”
“You just made that shit up, didn’t you?” Bella blinks. “You’re both brilliant and weird.”
“I made it relevant, Bells. History was written by the emotionally damaged and fiercely vengeful.”
Piper cackles, walking to the large bar area behind the sectional. “I think I’m going to need that embroidered on a sweatshirt.”
Sarina smirks. “Have I mentioned my sister has a curated playlist called ‘Crying in My Car’?”
Kavi nearly spits out her beer. “No! It’s actually called ‘Crying in My Car’?”
I shoot my sister another one of my famous death glares. “Don’t you dare . . .”
“Yes,” Sarina answers delightfully. “It’s all sad-girl anthems and breakup ballads. The first time I heard it, I thought someone had died.”
“Shut up. It’s a good playlist.”
“Babe, it’s almost entirely made up of Adele’s rage songs.”
I shrug. “She gets me and my rage.”
“Okay, but going back to what Piper said. I think she’s right.” Kavi places her empty beer bottle on a side table. “I think Patton is trying to get you back. Especially after what he said about Micah.”
I stay quiet, hoping my mixed emotions aren’t written all over my face. Because it’s exactly how I feel: jumbled up and turned around.
A part of me—the part that’s been detached and dormant for so long—is stirring awake, wondering if it really is as simple as they’re making it. That perhaps my ex-husband moving into town is some type of Nicholas Sparks-level love declaration.
But the other part—the part that still nurses old wounds from time to time—is suiting up with additional armor.
Because she’s the one who remembers those nights alone.
She’s the one who recalls wondering where she sat on his priority list. And she’s not ready to just hand over those keys because her ex-husband has decided, seven years later, that he misses her.
“But why now?” Rani asks, gathering her hair into a topknot. “Why after all these years?”
“I have a feeling it has something to do with what happened last year,” Sarina answers. There’s a gleam in her eyes that I don’t like one bit. Like she already knows that whatever happened will only help fortify her plan to play Cupid.
“Which brings us to why we’re here,” Piper says, bringing a tray of—oh, God—shot glasses brimming with green liquid. “To get the tea! To commemorate this occasion, I appropriately made green tea shots for us!”
A few of us groan, but we all reach out to grab a shot glass. There’s no point in arguing with her. Unless you’re pregnant, a recovering addict, or it’s against your religion, the woman is going to pour the shot down your throat anyway.
“Salud, bitches!” Piper chimes as we clink glasses and throw back the shots. She puts her empty one back on the tray before looking at me. “Now. Don’t you dare skip a single detail.”