Chapter 24
chapter 24
“Are you…” Naomi flattened herself against the cool concrete wall of the community center as two little girls in red South Asian dresses ran past, shrieking with laughter and oblivious to the November chill. “Are you sure I’m not underdressed?”
Staring like a zombie at the people filing into the hall for Diwali, Dev barely spared her a glance. “You’re fine.”
Glancing down at her plain white blouse and black dress pants, Naomi bit her bottom lip. “But I—”
“Seriously, it’s fine.”
Naomi glanced at Dev’s icy frown and tried for levity. “Maybe my Lovesexy T-shirt would’ve been more appropriate.”
No reaction.
With a sigh, Naomi turned back to face the partygoers as well. Dev had been in a mood lately, somewhere between distracted and impatient—well, more impatient than usual. He still showed up to help her with the bazaar every day, dependable and involved, but the qualities that were so irrevocably Dev were shifting in a way that left Naomi uneasy. Instead of hilariously cynical, he was aloof. He was more prone to silence, too, where before she would have welcomed his sarcasm. He was at her side, but the important parts were fading, like the tearstained ink on a Dear John letter, folded and unfolded too many times.
When he’d informed her he was expected to attend a Diwali celebration, it had crossed Naomi’s mind to decline. Toying the line between fake dating and real-time bed partners was starting to mess with her mind, and some distance from Dev, his community, and the lies wrapped around them was not unwelcome. Also, besides the lehenga she had promised herself she would dry-clean as soon she could afford the luxury, she had nothing suitable to wear.
But when he’d looked at her with those steady, chocolate-brown eyes, the smudged shadows under his eyes hinting at something more than fatigue, something from a place inside him that he kept under lock and scowl, Naomi hadn’t been able to say no. And a small part of her was dying to see what Diwali was all about, too.
Even if, in a sea of rainbow fashion and ornate tinkling jewelry, she would look like a drab moth.
“Hey,” Dev said, his voice as gentle as the surreptitious brush of his pinky against hers. “We’ll make this brief. If yet another potential bride introduces herself, I’ll fake stomach pains and run away. You won’t have to do a thing.”
It wasn’t so much the consolation but the glimmer of the old Dev— her Dev—that made Naomi break out into a goofy grin. “Stomach virus?”
“With the potential for projectile vomiting. I’ll store a chewed-up laddoo in the pocket of my cheek just in case.”
Just like that, Naomi forgot both the strain of the past few days and the fact that she was horribly underdressed. She nudged his biceps with her shoulder, lingering an extra moment against the firm line of muscle. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, entering the hall.
The event was being held in the same community center as Garba, but if the previous event had seemed like a magical combination of music and joy, then Diwali was…It was…There were no words.
There was only light.
LED candles lined the room, offset by fresh flower garlands hanging from the walls, intertwined with soft white Christmas lights. In the center of the room were various designs—some floral, some not—beautifully painted on the floor. Among the patterns were tea lights that cast a soft soothing glow over the incredible splash of colors.
“Oh my God.” Naomi stopped short of the entrance, aware that she looked like a slack-jawed tourist. “What are those?”
“What?” Dev asked. He followed her line of sight to the center of the room, where candles glowed. “Those are a damned fire hazard.” He punctuated that decree with a disapproving shake of his head.
“You’re such an old man,” Naomi teased. The urge to kiss away his frown was overwhelming. “Next you’ll say it’s too loud in here.”
Dev paused, his mouth tight. Then he broke into a self-conscious grin. “It is too loud in here.”
Naomi rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t asking about the candles. I meant the paintings on the floor. What are they?”
“Oh, that’s rangoli. They’re meant to welcome Laxmi, goddess of prosperity and good fortune.” Dev cut her a questioning glance. “Diwali is pretty popular among South Asians…Your family doesn’t celebrate?”
Naomi cleared her throat. “Not like this.” Or ever, for that matter.
“We can take a closer look if you—”
“Hi, Dev!”
Naomi smirked at Dev before turning to face what had to be a potential wife sent by the matchmaker. Pity they hadn’t had time to hit up the laddoo table so Dev could arm himself. But her cockiness dissipated when she found herself face-to-face with Mandy, Dev’s childhood friend who she’d met at Garba. There was something different about her today, though—a firmness to her chin, a determined glint in her colored contacts.
“Hey, Mandy,” Dev said, oblivious that the woman in front of him was on the hunt. “You’re still in town?”
Mandy nodded and took a small step forward. “My mother insisted I fly back for Diwali. I was hoping to run into you tonight.”
“You were?” Dev cocked his head to the side.
Naomi frowned. Seriously, Dev? Get a clue.
Ignoring Naomi, Mandy stepped even closer, the A-line of her hot pink lehenga skirt brushing the tip of Naomi’s right shoe.
“Veera Auntie insisted I hang around a bit longer,” Mandy confirmed. She placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “Are you not happy to see me?”
If Mandy was trying for playful, someone needed to inform her she sounded downright predatory. Realization finally dawned over Dev’s face.
About time , Naomi thought.
“Veera Auntie?” He wheezed.
“Veera Auntie,” Mandy said with a meaningful smile.
Naomi straightened her shoulders, ready to insert her way into the bourgeoning tête-à-tête when Dev’s next words startled her.
“Veera Auntie!” he exclaimed, stepping away from them both.
A small lady materialized at Mandy’s side. Her baby blue sari was a stark contrast to the shrewdness in her brown eyes, further magnified by perfectly round, wire-framed glasses. She laid a wrinkled hand on Mandy’s arm, but there was nothing gentle in the way she assessed Naomi, her eyes roving from head to toe and back up again.
Oh shit. Gia’s scorn was laughable compared to Veera’s, and Naomi shrank back. “Devdas,” Veera said smoothly. “I believe you already know Mandy?”
“Y-yes.”
“When Mandy informed me you two wouldn’t be a good match, I was surprised given what your mother told me about your childhood friendship.”
Dev paled, but he was out of Naomi’s reach now. They hadn’t planned for this, and surely Dev wouldn’t have insisted Naomi join him tonight if he had known that Veera Auntie would be in attendance. As much as Naomi wished to offer even the smallest sign of support, there was no way a subtle brush of her pinky against his would go unnoticed under the matchmaker’s watchful gaze.
“When I mentioned as much to your mother, she gave me marching orders to make sure Mandy had a chance to meet you again.” Veera smiled at Mandy, the golden girl, who preened in response.
“My mother?” Dev croaked, and Naomi’s body stiffened in alarm. Perhaps Dev would projectile-vomit after all, with or without prechewed ammunition.
“Well, of course,” Veera said, gesturing over her shoulder. “She’s right over there.”
The flood of Diwali lights surrounding them was suddenly too much. What Naomi had once considered a dreamy, romantic glow became a harsh, buzzing spotlight shining directly on their little foursome. And Naomi was the unrehearsed understudy with zero knowledge of the script.
And when Gia sidled up, two friends Naomi vaguely recognized from Aashi’s dinner party so many weeks ago in tow, Naomi’s eyes searched the room for a trapdoor she could disappear into.
“Dev, look, it’s Mandy!” Gia sang, threading her arm through Mandy’s free one. Naomi stared at them: Gia, Mandy, and Veera, an impenetrable offensive line of tradition, expectation, and authenticity.
“Yes, I know,” Dev said, his voice tight. “Are you chaperoning the matchmaking now, Mom?”
“Is that the worst idea?” Gia shot back. “You don’t seem to be making any progress.”
“It’s not unheard of for parents to help secure a match,” Veera added.
“Dev? Naomi?” a familiar voice asked from behind Naomi. A new person joined the group, stepping neatly between Dev and Naomi. It was Jasminder, the second bachelorette who had walked into the bazaar in what felt like a lifetime ago. But Naomi remembered her well: she had treated the potential of matching with Dev with the severity of a job interview.
If the ghosts of Dev’s past and present were making an appearance tonight, then Naomi would welcome the grim reaper’s arrival to put an end to this agony.
Exactly as Naomi remembered her, Jasminder was as blunt as ever. With little preamble, she said, “Did I hear that you two secured your match?”
“No, dear.” Veera shook her head. “He’s still on the market.”
Jasminder’s brow wrinkled as she jerked her thumb at Naomi. “But he’s her honey boo boo.”
Dev’s breath hitched, and the entire group turned to witness his short coughing fit until one of Gia’s friends stepped closer into the fray.
“Ki?” she said in confusion. “Her name is Honey Boo Boo?” she asked, gesturing at Naomi. “What country is that from?”
“No—” Dev cut in.
“No.” Jasminder’s impatience was louder. “Her name is Naomi, and she and Dev are together. He’s the honey boo boo.”
“What is a honey boo boo?” the friend asked, turning to Gia.
“It sounds like one of those code words for drugs,” Gia’s second friend chimed in, casting a suspicious eye over Jasminder and Naomi. “Dev is not looking for a woman who does the drugs.”
“None of my clients do drugs,” Veera said, affronted. “I work with good girls.” She nodded at Naomi. “ She is not my client.”
Embarrassment flooded Naomi’s cheeks. She risked a quick glance at Dev, but it was in vain: his face was blank even though horror lurked in his eyes. She’d seen that look many times—every time, in fact, a potential bride had walked into his path, expecting promises for the future.
Dev was shutting down. And under Gia’s and Veera’s watchful eyes, Naomi could not possibly come to his rescue.
“I think what they’re trying to say is Dev and Naomi are dating,” Mandy said quietly. She threw Dev a questioning frown. “ Were dating?”
“Dev is not dating anyone,” Gia answered in a hard, clipped tone.
“You told me you were his girlfriend,” Jasminder said to Naomi, her mouth curling downward, hurt. “Did you lie to me?”
One of Gia’s friends clapped Gia on the shoulder. “It worked! Your son has found a match!”
“My sister is going to India this Christmas,” the second friend added as Mandy whispered something in the matchmaker’s ear. “She can bring back the wedding suits!” She turned to Naomi. “You don’t have to wear red anymore, you know. My niece wore shocking pink—”
“ Bas! ” Gia held up her hand, silencing them all, including the small crowd of gossip-hungry Diwali attendees who had gathered around, ears pressed forward. “That is quite enough. Naomi is not Dev’s girlfriend. Beta, what is going on here?”
All eyes turned to Dev, who looked like an Olympic diver peering over the edge of the high dive while second-guessing his decision to eat sushi out of someone’s trunk the night before.
Say something , Naomi silently implored. Say anything. But deep down she knew what she wanted him to say.
Tell them who I am. Tell them what I mean to you.
“We’re not a couple,” Dev said, oblivious to Naomi’s silent plea. “We made the whole thing up.”
Six sets of professionally threaded eyebrows shot way, way up. Naomi closed her eyes, as if doing so could erase Dev’s revelation, erase her from this horrifying moment of feeling alone and exposed in front of too many judgmental stares. Her brain screamed at her to run, but her feet were rooted in place with the desperate hope that Dev would stand up for her.
Scratch that. She wanted him to stand with her.
“Why?” Gia asked.
“Because…I told you…” Dev’s hands scurried in midair, gesturing at everything and nothing. “I don’t want this.”
“Not want marriage?” one of Gia’s friends hissed to the other. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Maybe he’s the one on the drugs,” the second friend replied.
“I’m not on drugs,” Dev snapped. “I needed help getting rid of all the potential brides you were sending my way.” For the first time, he looked at Naomi. “Naomi agreed to help me out.”
“It was my idea,” Naomi blurted out. “I asked Dev to assist me with the bazaar’s rebrand in exchange for me standing in as his fake girlfriend.” At that revelation, her audience’s eyebrows practically disappeared into their hairlines, and Naomi’s voice faltered. “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”
“A good idea? A good idea!” Gia’s voice surged forward, growing louder and more forceful with every word. She glared at Naomi, her stare a thousand times more frigid than her son’s could ever be.
“Mom, calm down,” Dev said in a hushed voice.
Naomi valiantly tried to hold her ground. “I was trying to help your son.”
“My son doesn’t need help, especially yours,” Gia said with a bitter laugh. “It’s laughable, really!”
“It’s true, dear,” one of her friends said gently. “If Devdas is on the drugs, he is probably beyond your help.”
“Jesus, I’m not on drugs!” Dev shot back.
Naomi barely heard them, so absorbed was she in the snide twist of Gia’s face. There was no lie or truth anywhere in this world that would pacify Dev’s mother now.
“ You could never be a suitable match for my son,” Gia said. Her eyes assessed Naomi’s humble dress pants and blouse, so plain and out of place for Diwali, and she shook her head with disgust. “We want a good girl. A proper daughter-in-law. Someone who understands and respects what our people—”
“Don’t you dare speak to her that way!” A furious voice said somewhere behind Naomi.
Panic spiked up Naomi’s spine, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake, as the group turned to the community hall’s entrance. Naomi was the last to round on the new, thunderous voice because she already knew who stood behind her. She’d know that warning tone anywhere.
It belonged to her mother.