19. Piper
nineteen
piper
Take Him Salsa Dancing
“ T his was the bridal jewelry my mother-in-law gave to me to wear for my and Deepak’s Indian wedding ceremony,” Claire says, handing me a large red velvet box. “You don’t have to wear it, but it’s yours, nonetheless.”
I hesitate taking it from her, feeling that same stirring of guilt inside my gut. “Thank you,” I whisper, brushing my hand over the soft fabric and the tiny aluminum clasps on one end.
We’re sitting in her beloved garden, watching some gardeners fertilize her rose bushes under the late September sun. With only two clients coming in earlier this morning, I’d decided to message Claire to see if she’d be up for visitors. I thought perhaps she would be sleeping or not in the mood for visitors, but she’d immediately responded with an emphatic, Yes! along with at least twelve emojis.
With Dev in Beijing this past week, our communication has been limited to texts. But with the wedding looming—caterers, music, cake, and a million other details demanding attention—I needed to wrangle out a firm date for our wedding. Even keeping it small enough to fit inside his mother’ s rose garden, we still need to send invites and prepare. Thankfully, we settled on a date at the end of October.
And because I like pushing my luck when it comes to my fiancé, I also managed to get a promise out of him to come into the salon tomorrow morning for his first photoshoot to be the face of our company.
It’ll be the first time I’ll see him since he left me speechless and soaked—in more ways than one—in his swimming pool. The memory of him, his eyes searing against mine, his body pinning me to the wall behind me, and his words spoken like a threat as much as an invitation sends a shiver down my spine.
But now that the wedding date is finalized, I want to make sure I include Claire in any preparations she wants to take part in. Which is the reason I’m visiting today, to get an understanding of her wishes. Well, that, and the fact that I honestly couldn’t wait to see her again.
Given her deteriorating health, I know she won’t have the stamina to be a part of every decision, even if we were to meet with the vendors at the house, but my hope is that the wedding is everything she hoped it would be.
I open the clasps on the box to reveal a beautiful golden ensemble that looks like it was handcrafted. The substantial choker with pearl accents would likely cover most of my neck and décolletage, a pair of dangling golden earrings gleam under the sun, and a large gold, emerald, and pearl medallion at the end of a string of pearls looks like it might be a head piece fit for a queen. A pair of golden and pearl bangles complete the set.
“This is . . .” My breath catches as I look at Claire, bundled up under a blanket, sitting beside me. “You must have looked so beautiful on your wedding day.”
She smiles, her pale blue eyes looking off into the distance. “It feels both like it was yesterday and a lifetime ago.” She looks at the box in my hand. “I remember I needed help getting on my saree and that head jewelry, but Deepak’s family was there to help, accepting me with open arms.”
I smile, sensing she might have more to say.
“It’s a big part of Indian culture to give the new daughter-in-law jewelry as a symbol of welcome and acceptance. And while Deepak came from humble beginnings, his mother had held on to this from her own wedding to give to me.”
“Wow,” I breathe, looking back down at the set that’s been passed on for multiple generations in my hands. “It’s beautiful.”
She nods. “We had two small ceremonies—one in the church my parents insisted upon and one in a Hindu temple. Neither Deepak nor I protested much about anything our parents wanted.” Her smile wobbles as if she’s in the throes of memories. “All we cared about was being together. He was, and still is, the love of my life.”
My throat tightens, my brows coming together as I ward off the prick of tears at the corners of my eyes. “I can tell how much he loves you.”
It’s not an exaggeration. The man worships the ground she walks on.
Earlier when I arrived, he gave me a curt nod—not terribly unwelcome—before walking me out here to her outdoor sanctuary. He’d then settled Claire into a chair cocooned in blankets, leaving a cup of hot tea at her side. The only reason he isn’t hovering out here now is because she’d shooed him away to give us time to chat alone.
“He’s a complicated man, my husband,” Claire muses, keeping her eyes trained on the roses. “He loves us all dearly, but he’s always had sky-high expectations of our children, especially Dev.”
She pauses, seeming to think for a moment. “Not that I’m making excuses for the way he’s been, but Deepak had to take care of his five brothers and sisters at a very young age after his dad passed away. His mom didn’t have much of an education, nor did she work, and Deepak was the oldest. I think some of the way he is with his children comes from the weight of that responsibility he never shed—always striving for more, always focused on the next thing.”
I swallow, both of us silent for a beat.
“Despite his hard exterior and his impossible standards, he is proud of his children. He just has a hard time showing it, and that’s created a rocky path between Dev and his father. One I’ve tried to pave wherever I could, but . . .”
Melancholy plays on her features as she trails off, shaking her head. “I’m sure Dev has opened up to you about him?”
I keep my expression neutral, knowing she thinks we’ve been together for far longer than we have before, giving her a short nod.
The truth is, beyond this arrangement and the minutiae of living together, I don’t know much about my fiancé. Sure, I know trivia-level things, thanks to the media and Wikipedia, like his number of degrees, his almost permanent status as the world’s most eligible bachelor, and the tabloid drama about his split with his long-term girlfriend. The speculations about that breakup ranged from reasonable to wild; a few magazines even claimed she’d become a nun because she’d found a ‘higher calling’.
I’d almost choked on my coffee when I read that one morning. No offense to the Almighty—I mentally cross myself—but who in their right mind would want to leave a man like Dev for any path that wasn’t leading directly to his bed? Given that I know the man is packing enough heat in his pants to make a firefighter blush—what with me accidentally grinding over him in the pool—I’m positive he could show any woman the pearly gates of heaven every time he was inside her .
Noticing Claire’s tea, untouched and fairly cooled, I close the jewelry box and lift the cup, urging her to drink.
Her hand wobbles as she takes a sip before placing her hand on top of mine. “You’re a sweet girl, Piper. I can see how much you love and care for my son. And while I wish we could have had more time to spend together,” her eyes shimmer as she blinks back the tears, “I couldn’t have picked a better person for him myself.”
My heart sinks as I work to keep my expression schooled, the complexity of my strange feelings for Dev, the weight of Claire’s praise, and even just her sincere approval making me feel like both a fraud and a coward.
“Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely.
“I know I shouldn’t ask for more . . . You both are already giving me a chance to be at your wedding well before you probably would have planned it, had it not been for this situation, but if I could?—”
“Anything,” I say hastily, gently tightening my hand on hers.
“Take him salsa dancing.”
I sputter out a laugh, even though my heart feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. “What?”
Claire chuckles. “What I mean is, make him see that you can’t live life sitting on an office chair. You can’t live life flying across the world to a beautiful new city, only to come back not having seen a single thing outside of a conference room. That, no matter how much money is in your bank account, you won’t care for a dollar of it if you’re lying on your deathbed without having enjoyed all the moments that you let fly by.”
I nod as a tear escapes through my lids unbidden.
She squeezes my hand. “Drag him out of his office and out of his shell, kicking and screaming if you have to. Take him to a concert, or salsa dancing, or hell, enter him into a karaoke contest if you have to.” She chuckles softly. “Just make him live, Piper. Make him laugh. Show him there’s a world beyond that damn laptop screen of his.”
I nod again, surprisingly calm under the weight of her unexpected request. Perhaps it’s the fact that having fun, being adventurous, and truly enjoying life has never been a chore for me. Perhaps the idea of getting Dev out of his shell doesn’t feel like a hurdle, but an exciting challenge. Or perhaps a part of me just wants to hear his laughter rumble out of his chest, to see that dimple dance against his cheek, and to have those intense eyes trained on me while he does it.
“I promise,” I say, surprised at how much I mean it.