Chapter 30
chapter 30
Pulling down the visor in Nick’s new black truck, Naomi examined her reflection, paying special attention to make sure no traces of her crimson lipstick had stained her teeth. As Nick pulled into Gia’s parking lot, she turned to her friend and posed with her hand under her chin, angling her face like a Hollywood starlet.
“How do I look?” Naomi winced when she heard the note of vulnerability trembling just shy of a nervous falsetto in her voice.
Nick parked his vehicle before turning in the driver’s seat to look at her. “You look hot. But maybe you should’ve toned down the boss vibe. This is a casual grand opening party.”
Naomi smoothed down the front of her white blazer before brushing an invisible speck of lint from her matching pencil skirt. Perhaps she had gone a little overboard, but splurging on a power suit combined with her rarely touched but highly revered Whip It Red lipstick had not been unlike donning armor. Despite Nick’s reassurance, the splash of color on her lips felt like a ghastly paint job, her new outfit stiff and scratchy against her skin.
But the costume was necessary. It had been almost a week since she’d seen Dev, and when it came to facing the man who had incinerated her heart, she was going to err on the side of caution. She wanted to be immune to those dark chocolate eyes, the ones that could see through her, turn her inside out, and set everything on fire. She just needed to get through the night in one piece. After all, it would likely be the last time she’d have to see him.
“This event might help me gain prospective clients,” Naomi reminded Nick. And herself. “I wanted to look the part.”
Nick half smirked. “Right. And this wouldn’t have anything to do with a sexy, brooding ex who will definitely be in attendance?”
Heat crept up Naomi’s neck, the rasp of her starchy skirt against the leather upholstery a dead giveaway as she shifted in her seat. “It might. Minutely.”
Nick rolled his eyes and killed the engine. “C’mon, we’re already late.”
Naomi slid out of the vehicle and squinted in the direction of Gia’s. The store’s new sign, and title, screamed of Dev’s handiwork: the no-nonsense name, the bold font. But there was a slight tilt to the gently curved letters, a hint there might be more beneath the surface for one patient enough to look.
It was perfect.
Nick had parked farther away than she would’ve liked, but out of the best kind of necessity—the available rows of parking facing the front of the store were packed. Even as Naomi hoped that the guest list wouldn’t diminish the airy, open feel of the café she had hoped to achieve, a flutter of excitement glided across her chest.
She allowed Nick to take the lead as they snaked their way around cars to the entrance, which was propped open. Inside, a sea of excited faces filled the tables, leaned against walls, talking to one another in an overwhelming mix of English, Bengali, Hindi, and half a dozen or so other languages Naomi could not even begin to decipher. There were a few non–South Asian faces, including the Musas from next door who had staked their claim on the burgundy couch. They waved at Naomi and Nick enthusiastically, their excited smiles a welcome balm on Naomi’s nerves.
Regardless of where they sat, stood, or lounged, every person held some kind of snack or dessert in their hand, and the heady smell of chai perfumed the air like a warm, cozy hug. The ambience in the room was perfect, right down to the number of children gorging on desserts. For once, Naomi’s professional eye didn’t see the tiny imperfections that required space on a never-ending to-do list. She only saw her vision come to life.
Triumph settled in the pit of her stomach, bookended by the din of people having a good time.
At the register, Gia chatted with various patrons, a wide smile on her usually dour face. Seated with a bunch of elderly ladies, Aashi shone even more brightly than usual, pushing plates of colorful mishti at them and chatting with her personal brand of gusto. Neel was here, too, looking a bit sulky seated next to his wife, who colored with her daughters with crumbs smeared across their faces.
“It’s a full house,” Nick announced, as if reading her mind. He, too, was taking it all in as only a contractor could, lingering on the brass light fixtures, the edges where flooring met baseboard.
When he nodded with satisfaction, Naomi couldn’t resist giving his arm a squeeze. “Thanks for pulling this off with me.”
He smiled. “The pace was ridiculous but worth it. Looks like everyone the Mukherjees care about is here.”
Naomi wrinkled her nose as she moved toward the Musa family. She couldn’t deny that, even with all the armor in the world, she was uncomfortable in the presence of all the people whose opinions mattered so much to Dev. These were the people he bent and curved his life for, the people whose respect he sought. Even if the events at Diwali had been different and he had been willing to make room in his hopelessly knotted life for her, she couldn’t live her life like that.
But it wasn’t the night for declarations of independence and zero fucks given. There would be time for Naomi to decide where she fit with this community, how she would incorporate it into her life. Whatever she decided, self-preservation came first, and right now, starting and ending the night with the Musas seemed like the safest option for her crumpled heart, prospective clients be damned.
But a familiar voice stopped her from the sweet relief of anonymity. “Naomi.” That voice. Tangled sheets before sunrise.
Dev, annoyingly handsome in a black button-down shirt and clean-shaven jaw, moved to stand in front of her, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, hands clenching and unclenching to the apprehensive pulse spreading underneath Naomi’s skin. Naomi fixed her eyes to the floor.
“I need to talk to you,” he said in a low voice.
Ever so slowly, Naomi’s eyes traveled upward, settling on a half-done button just above his clavicle. The imperfection on such a black-or-white, meticulous man inspired a swell of confidence. “So talk.”
Dev’s eyes widened. “Uh…”
She wouldn’t give in, not to the discomfort clouding his beautiful features or the faint scrape of his feet shuffling boyishly on the floor. Her heart was absolutely not thudding against her rib cage at the sight of a nervous flush seeping onto the tips of his ears, where only a few weeks ago she’d memorized the outline with her tongue.
“Can we go somewhere private?” he asked.
With a scoff, Naomi glanced around them. No one was listening or paying them any special attention, but of course Dev would request they move somewhere where no one could see them, where no one could make assumptions.
Hidden away like a dirty secret.
“You know what, Dev?” The words came out deliciously challenging, and Naomi’s spine straightened. “No, we can’t go somewhere private. In fact, I don’t want to talk to you.”
His head reeled back as if she’d slapped him. Good. “Please, I—”
“No. I’m making it out of here in one piece tonight,” she said, her voice emerging sharper than intended. When she saw guilt seep onto his face, Naomi couldn’t help but gentle her voice, convincing herself it was more for her graceful exit rather than his feelings. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go chat with the Musas. They, at least, won’t be ashamed to associate with me in public.” It was a petty dig, one that she knew she’d toss and turn over later tonight, but it did the job. Dev’s mouth snapped shut and he stepped back.
A part of Naomi was disappointed, but she wasn’t surprised. Backing down was what Dev did; he never made a scene or pushed the limits. He was a good, dutiful Bengali son, and although she’d once admired this kind of loyalty, in this moment she resented him for it.
She was halfway to the Musas when that same velvety voice stopped her again, this time in surround sound.
“Excuse me? Is this on?”
Naomi stopped in her tracks and turned to the source. Clutching a microphone in a white-knuckled grip, Dev stood at the cash register, and he was staring right at her. His intense gaze did not waver as conversations died down and everyone turned to the speaker, awaiting his next words.
Every muscle in Naomi’s body clenched; now that the fight had been avoided, she was primed for flight.
Once he had claimed everyone’s attention, Dev cleared his throat and looked around the room. “Thank you all for being here and supporting my family tonight.” He gestured at his mom, who stood next to him, her arm threaded to Aashi’s. Both sisters were beaming.
“This store has been a very special place to us, especially my mom. It’s where she first planted roots in this country and built a home. It’s also where she met many of you and found her first friends. It means a lot to her, and our entire family, that you all came to see what we have been working on these past few months. We are so grateful to have such wonderful people to call our friends.”
Despite herself, Naomi felt a lump form in her throat at his heartfelt words. Dev was usually so reserved, even more taciturn in large groups, but she heard the emotion in his voice. He meant everything he said, and that stupid corner of her heart, the part that didn’t care how hard she tried to cling to a cool and reserved exterior, was proud of him.
She wasn’t the only one moved by his words. Enthusiastic applause met Dev’s speech, and Nick let out a deafening whistle.
“When my mother asked me to help with the store’s rebrand,” he continued, “I admit that I wasn’t sure what would become of the bazaar. I knew things needed to change, but everything you see before you could not have been possible without our brand consultant, Naomi Kelly.”
Naomi’s eyes widened in alarm as Dev gestured to where she stood, turning the crowd’s applause and murmur of appreciation in her direction. The loudest cheers seemed to be coming from the Musas and Nick, and while she was semimortified by the unexpected attention, Naomi pasted on a small smile and offered a small nod of thanks to Dev and his mother. If they asked her to speak, she would die.
Luckily, Dev didn’t beckon her to the mic. But he wasn’t finished. “Under Naomi’s expertise, my mother’s store took on a direction and purpose that celebrated many of the important parts of the bazaar that my mom held dear. I admit that I was skeptical at first, but I soon saw how invaluable Naomi is. She brought color and energy back to the bazaar. This beautiful café is her vision for the community. Naomi changed this place completely and for the better,” he said.
Under the heavy stare of almost everyone in the building, Naomi’s cheeks heated, but she was too spellbound by Dev’s smooth voice to duck her head modestly. Or give in to the urge to run away.
He paused and stared at her with his familiar chocolate eyes, and Naomi allowed herself to melt, just a little bit. A small voice at the back of her head warned her to look away, but she couldn’t. If this was the last time she would see him, it was a hell of a way to say goodbye.
In the short silence, the expectant audience turned back to Dev as if they could sense something big just waiting to tumble from his lips. Something important. Anticipation drizzled through Naomi, laced with something that was too raw, too deceptive.
Hope.
“And she changed me.” Dev’s voice thickened. “She imagined possibilities for my mother’s store that I never would have dreamed of. And thanks to her, I’ve started imagining new possibilities for myself and what I need in my future.”
In her peripheral vision, Naomi could see people whipping their heads back and forth between Dev and her, as if they were performing a skit and Naomi had the next line. It was laughable because from the way her heart was lodged in her throat, Naomi felt like she was on the verge of tears instead.
Dev paused to lick his lips, and in that moment everything faded away except the man in front of her.
“It might not be obvious at first, but Naomi poured herself into this store’s rebrand,” Dev continued. “All the incredible parts of her, like her ambition, optimism, and compassion, are all a part of Gia’s now. And we are so lucky for it, because this place is a part of my family.” And with a deep breath, he added, “And so is she. Naomi, I’m in love with you, and I want you to be a part of my family, too.”
In the silence that followed, the only audible sound was a squeak from a wide-eyed Gia.
Beside her, Aashi’s grin widened and she bounced on her toes.
“You should go up there.” Nick’s voice was low and excited in her ear—she hadn’t even noticed him sidling up to her. His hand covered hers where, at some point, it had reached out and clutched the back of a nearby chair and was now squeezing it for dear life. Nick pried her clammy fingers loose. “Naomi, go. Do not deny me this real-life Bollywood moment!”
The café’s guests began a scattered applause, the kind that followed an abrupt ending to a speech that had floored every single person in the room. Nick nudged Naomi forward, and as she made her way to where Dev stood, the applause grew in strength, coupled with whistles as Dev met her halfway, his gaze uneasy and tense.
This time, it was Naomi who reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. And it was all that Dev needed. He visibly relaxed and pulled her into his side.
“Hi,” Dev whispered, his lips dangerously close to her earlobe. “If it wasn’t obvious, that was me trying to say…I love you.”
When she didn’t respond right away, Dev’s forehead wrinkled and he nudged her into facing him. “I’m really sorry about every—”
Naomi grinned and cut him off with a kiss. “Hi,” she said, pulling back. “I love you, too.”
As the bustle of patrons returning to their own conversations resumed, Naomi risked a quick glance at Dev’s mother. Gia’s lips were stretched into an uncomfortable smile but something in her eyes signaled acceptance. Or, perhaps, acquiescence. It wasn’t the most encouraging face Naomi had ever encountered, but it didn’t matter.
She had what she needed.
A few hours later, Naomi stood behind the counter where the last of the sweets had been laid on a large, silver tray for anyone to help themselves. Only one or two items of each variety remained, a sign that the food had been sampled thoroughly and enjoyed by many. Her mouth watered as she deliberated over which dessert would cap the night.
It would be a crime not to punctuate the most memorable evening of her life with something sweet and sumptuous.
“There you are,” Dev said as he appeared next to her, satisfaction and something Naomi couldn’t quite identify in his voice. Relief, maybe. Love.
“You knew just where to find me,” she replied, gesturing at the sugary possibilities in front of them. But, as mint and pine overwhelmed her senses, she could focus on one temptation only: Dev. It had been her wonderful plight all night long. Between him greeting his family’s friends and Naomi networking the room, Dev had faithfully returned to her side at every possible opportunity, squeezing her hand in greeting, often followed by a quick brush of his lips against her temple or a gentle tug to pull her closer to him, solidifying himself as her anchor.
And she as his.
Dev wrapped his arm around her waist, sneaking a quick nuzzle against her neck. “Careful,” she teased, “or people are going to think we’re a couple.”
It was an empty threat. The café was nearly deserted, save for Gia, Aashi, and a few aunties who lounged like royalty on the burgundy couch. Dev, however, regarded Naomi in that familiar, intense way of his. “Sweetheart, people have been congratulating me on our engagement all night.”
Naomi pressed her lips together to hide the goofy smile threatening permanent residency on her cheeks. Sweetheart. He’d called her sweet— Her face grew slack when the rest of Dev’s words registered. “What?”
“I think my little speech might have given some people the wrong impression. One lady extended her best wishes because she thinks we’re having a baby.”
Naomi’s blinked and glanced down at her stomach, speechless. Dev laughed.
“Did you set them straight?” Naomi asked, her voice weak. Most of the guests had left a half hour ago—who knew what kind of rumors had been hatched about them in that time span.
Dev shrugged one shoulder. “Does it matter?”
Something thick like molasses coated Naomi’s insides, more indulgent and sweet than gulab jamun could ever be. It was stronger than satisfaction, more potent than relief.
Love.
Naomi pressed her hands against Dev’s chest, memorizing the rise and fall of his steady breath. “Have I mentioned just how much I love you yet?”
Twin dimples sank into his cheeks. “You have not.”
“Well, I do.” Naomi leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “I plan to show you how much later.”
Dev’s dimples disappeared, replaced by a wicked tilt to his lips. “I—”
“Devdas,” Gia interrupted, ambling to the counter. Her eyes flickered to where Naomi’s hands rested on his chest, but her face remained unreadable. “There’s a lady on the couch who owns a small specialty tea company and wants to discuss partnership opportunities.”
Dev exhaled a small, impatient huff before winking at Naomi, a promise for later. Dutifully he turned and went to where an elderly woman waited on the other side of the room.
Gia and Naomi stared at each other for a few moments of silence before Gia finally opened her mouth to speak.
“I don’t believe I ever thanked you properly this morning,” she said, her face devoid of any discernible emotion. “You really did work magic on my store.” Gia gestured to the almost-empty room behind her. “My son was right. You breathed life into this place. I…I was wrong about you.”
Naomi ducked her head. “Thank you.”
Gia hesitated. “Thank you for what you did here.” She peered at Naomi searchingly, her dark gaze, so like Dev’s, speaking volumes. “It seems I needed to adjust my expectations all along.”
It was clear that this conversation was difficult for Gia, but with Dev’s speech etched across her heart, Naomi didn’t need more from his mother at this time. Better yet, she didn’t feel the need to reassure Gia that at Dev’s side, she would try her best to honor all the important traditions and customs Gia held close to her heart and wanted to keep alive in her family. She would show her, in time.
Instead, Naomi offered Gia a warm smile and turned back to the dessert table. “I’m trying to decide which I’d like to eat.” The assortment of sweets offered a range from various Indian cuisines, like jalabis, laddoos, gulab jamun, and others Naomi had never seen before. After a brief moment of indecision, she reached for one that was familiar to her: the sumptuous rasgulla, which she spooned onto her plate, paying special attention to also scoop the syrup they sat in to drizzle over the dessert on her plate.
When she realized Gia was watching her every move, Naomi smiled sheepishly. “This one is my favorite.”
Gia’s answering grin took her by surprise. “That’s a famous Bengali sweet,” she said. “It’s my favorite, too.”