Ch. 29 – Prem
“ M rrw?”
Prem groaned awake. Two whiskey-colored eyes stared into his. He raised his head and stared at the slender brown tabby loafing on his chest.
“Morning,” Prem mumbled to the cat. “You comfortable?”
The cat yawned. The feline was young, just reaching adulthood, he guessed. He or she was small but looked healthy, with thick, glossy fur.
Wait.
His brain started to process.
Whose cat was this?
He looked past the cat at the sun-washed cheerful room. He didn’t see any half-emptied moving boxes shoved into the corner or barren walls that he hadn’t gotten around to decorating.
Definitely wasn’t his apartment.
Prem turned his head.
He saw her. He remembered. He smiled.
Layla snuggled next to him, her face pressed into his shoulder, an arm draped around his waist. Her pale lashes quivered with dreams. Her lips were such a succulent pink, and wisps of golden hair floated around her face. This close, he could see a smattering of light freckles across her cheeks and a dark freckle on her jaw he hadn’t noticed before.
His heart filled with light.
The sex last night had been otherworldly. And then the things she’d said after. Her words had moved him. Terrified and thrilled him. Made him want to weep and hold onto her like she was the only port in a storm.
Prem suddenly had to touch Layla just to prove she was real. He reached over and stroked her cheek.
Layla sighed as her eyelids fluttered open. She met his eyes, smiled.
“Morning,” Prem said.
“Morning.” She leaned over and kissed him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Right then and there, Prem worried that he wouldn’t be able to survive without a Layla morning kiss every day for the rest of his life.
“Sorry for the morning breath,” she murmured.
“I love your morning breath,” he answered. He looked pointedly at the tabby still sitting like a contented rock on his chest. “This one? Not so much.”
“Good morning, Garbo,” Layla sang.
“Mrrrwww,” the cat trilled.
“Garbo, we need to talk about your personal space issues,” Prem informed the cat.
Layla smiled again, but the expression didn’t meet her eyes. Prem sensed the change in her mood even before she pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts. He sat up, guiding the unhappy cat off his chest.
“Mrw,” Garbo said indignantly and head butted him. Prem absently scratched at the cat’s head. “What’s wrong?”
Layla blushed and looked away. “We didn’t exactly go slow last night, did we?”
“Actually, I made a point of going very slow,” Prem corrected her. When she didn’t laugh, he frowned. “Do you regret what we did?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then, what’s wrong?”
She pulled her braid over her shoulder and nibbled on her lower lip. God, did she have any idea what that did to him?
“I don’t want you to think…” a blush prickled up her cheeks, “...that I’m easy.”
Prem laughed.
“Don’t!” She pushed at his shoulder.
Prem swallowed his laughter. He took a breath, then put two fingers under her chin to tip her face up so that he could meet her eyes.
“Layla, I don’t think you’re easy. And, honestly, I couldn’t care less. It’s okay to like sex.”
“That’s what my friends say,” she dropped his gaze.
“Your friends are right.”
“They say that, too.”
Prem reached over and took her braid in his hands. Pulling off the elastic band at the end, he slowly unwove her hair. Layla watched silently.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Prem murmured. Her hair felt like silk. The sunlight turned it into spun gold spilling through his fingers.
“There’s something else we need to talk about.” Layla hitched the sheet a little higher. “You’re my boss.”
“I know.” Prem bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I’ll find a way to make this right,” he promised her. “And you won’t lose your job.”
“How?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But I’ll figure something out. Because I sure as hell don’t want to stop.”
“Neither do I.”
His fingers combed out the last crisscrosses of the braid, and Prem leaned back to study his work. Layla sat in a puddle of white sheets, still holding the fabric across her perky breasts. The points of her hardened nipples stood outlined by the thin fabric, and waves of gold poured down her shoulders and back.
“Magical and magnificent,” Prem breathed. He carved the picture of her in his mind. His nymph. His queen. His goddess.
Prem took a lock of hair and pulled it gently through his fingers. “Have you ever cut it?”
“Never,” she answered. “It’s always been the most special thing about me.”
Prem shook his head. “The most special thing about you is just you.”
Now she laughed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
But it did.
Layla batted her eyelashes. “So, um, since we both agree that I’m not easy, you wouldn’t think less of me if I wanted to, um…”
“Have sex again?” Prem finished. “Please tell me that’s what you were going to say.”
She giggled. “If this were a romance novel, I’d fall into your arms, but I have to pee so bad!”
Prem kissed her shoulder. “Go pee. Then come back and fall into my arms. I’ll wait for you.”
For Layla, he might be willing to wait forever.
*
Twenty minutes later, Prem exhaled and twisted a strand of Layla’s golden hair around his finger. He sat up against the bedframe, and she lay sprawled across his chest, eyes closed.
“I want to stay here forever,” she murmured, “just listening to your heart.”
If anyone else had said such a thing, he might have laughed, but the tenderness of her words lifted his soul. And made him ache for a reason he hesitated to explore.
Their morning sex had been languid. In the bright sunlight, Prem had taken his time to explore Layla’s body, cataloging her freckles and moles, and discovering all her ticklish spots. It’d been beautiful and natural. Prem had never felt so free, so unafraid to let her eyes drink him in.
But, as much as he wished, the world couldn’t stop for them.
“I’ve got to take April for a ride,” he told her. “Then go over the books at the practice.”
“Lucky April.” Layla kissed his chest. “I was supposed to run with The Crazy Cat Ladies this morning. I kind of fibbed and told them I’d been up late last night.”
“Technically not a lie,” Prem corrected her. “And who exactly are The Crazy Cat Ladies?”
She pressed her face into his chest. “You really don’t want to know.” Regretfully, she sat up. “But I still have to get in my long run today. Fifteen miles.” She frowned, her lips puckering. “It’s a lot.”
“You can do it.” Prem kissed the top of her head.
Layla slid out of bed, and he enjoyed watching her shimmy into a pink tank top and navy running shorts.
“No time to brush today,” she said with a sigh and combed her fingers through her hair. Prem watched with amazement as she braided her hair, starting at the crown of her head and working her way down to the small of her back. The whole process took less than two minutes.
“That’s got to be a world braiding record or something,” he said, climbing out of bed and reclaiming his own clothes.
“I’ve been doing it my entire life,” she reminded him.
“I’ve got to hit the bathroom and then…oh.” Prem remembered they weren’t alone in the house. “Should I climb out the window?”
“Oh please.” Layla laughed as she pulled a hair band off the dresser and secured the end of her braid. “I told Mom about you before our date last night. And don’t worry, I swore her to secrecy from The Knitting Club. I bet she’d love to say hi.”
Prem almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of Layla’s words. A mother who would happily greet the man who’d just slept with her daughter? Surely not. An Indian mother would have a fit. The Desi culture was still very traditional when it came to dating and sex.
Dating had been strictly forbidden by Prem’s parents. Girls weren’t even allowed over the house. The no-dating rule hadn’t stopped Jai, of course, but Prem had spent his college years unlearning the strict sense of purity his parents had instilled in him.
“Mom might not even be around,” Layla continued as if she hadn’t just turned his world upside down. She pulled open a drawer and slipped her small feet into purple sports socks. “She’s probably either in the back yard gardening or at work.”
Prem shrugged on his shirt and began buttoning it. “It’d probably be better if I met your family in a more formal setting.”
Layla shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
After Prem returned from the bathroom, Layla gave him a bemused smile. “Ready for the walk of shame?”
“I have absolutely no shame about what we did last night and this morning,” he told her truthfully.
Her smile widened. “Let’s go.” She cracked open the bedroom door and looked both ways. “Coast is clear,” she hissed. “Team Bravo, you are a go.”
Just for that, Prem poked her in the ribs, which he now knew was her giggle Kryptonite.
“Stop!” she squealed, swatting away his hand.
The two made their way down the stairs. Prem gritted his teeth with each creak and groan of the old house. His first foot hit the landing. The front door was in sight.
“It’s about time you two sleepy heads got up!” a cheerful voice sang from the kitchen.
Prem Dhawan, a grown man with a doctorate, a business, and three employees, cowered in his loafers.
“It’s okay, she doesn’t bite, I promise,” Layla whispered in his ear, her voice lilting with amusement. Prem felt her hand on his back, gently pushing him toward the kitchen.
Inside, a thin woman with silver-gold hair pulled into a loose ponytail bustled around the stove. “There’s coffee and tea on,” she said as Prem crept into the cozy room. “Prem, I didn’t know what you like, so I’m making scrambled eggs, biscuits, and pancakes.”
The woman turned, clasping her hands in front of her. Prem met familiar blue eyes etched with crow’s feet at the corners. The woman gave him a wide, radiant smile that was identical to her daughter’s.
“Oh, Layla, he’s handsome,” she sighed. “How come you didn’t tell me how handsome he was?”
“MOM!” Layla squealed and buried her face in Prem’s shoulder.
What. Was. Happening? Why wasn’t Layla’s mother furious? Ashamed? Brimming with outrage?
“Honey, does he talk?” the older woman asked.
Prem plastered on a smile. “Hello, Mrs. Sandoval. I’m so sorry we’re meeting this way. I should have introduced myself before I took Layla out.”
“Nonsense.” The woman waved away his apology. “And call me Dede.”
Prem almost swallowed his tongue. In the Desi world, you never called your elders by their first names.
“Dede,” he barely choked out the word.
“Sit down. Sit down. The food is almost ready.” Dede waved at a small table in the corner.
Prem shot Layla a horrified look. Her mother had made them breakfast? They’d have to sit together for a meal? Did Dede plan to grill him on his educational achievements, his income, and his expectations for her daughter?
Layla gave him a helpless shrug. “Guess you’re staying for breakfast.” She lowered her voice, “Annnnd, my mom’s the worst cook in the world. Sorry!” She kissed him on the cheek, took his hand, and led him to the table.
“Prem, do you like coffee or tea?” Dede asked. “Sully loves my tea.”
“Sully doesn’t like tea, Mom,” Layla said as she gently pressed Prem into a cushioned wooden chair. “He’s just being nice.”
“Sully loves my tea, don’t be silly. He always has a cup when he’s over.”
“That’s because you always shove a cup in his hands as soon as he walks through the door,” Layla shot back.
The two women moved around the kitchen with the ease of a memorized dance, chatting playfully. Layla floated to the cabinets and brought plates and glasses to the table, while Dede poked at something in the pan on the stove. Prem noticed her hands shake just a little as she awkwardly worked the spatula.
Suddenly, a creature scrabbled onto his lap from beneath the table, its claws pricking through his jeans. Prem looked down.
“You again, huh?”
“Mrw,” Garbo agreed and got to work biscuiting his lap.
“So, um, how did you know I was here?” Prem asked Dede. Dear Lord, they’d been more than a little loud last night. Layla had a secret wildcat inside of her.
“Your car was in the driveway,” Dede replied as she determinedly scraped a blob out of the pan.
Prem blew out a breath.
“And you two woke me up last night,” Dede continued. “I’m old, not deaf.”
“Oops. Sorry, Mom.” Pink hues infused Layla’s chest as she put napkins down next to the plates and moved to a drawer filled with silverware.
Prem dropped his head in his hands. Would the women notice if he crawled under the table and stayed there until the end of time?
“Mom, you’re embarrassing him!” Layla was suddenly at his side, her hand on his shoulder.
“What? I am? Oh.” A second hand landed on his shoulder. “Prem, honey, I remember when I used to make noises like that. It was a compliment, I promise.”
“Mom!” Layla screamed and giggled, and then they were both giggling. Prem glanced at the door, wondering if he could make a break for it.
“He’s so cute! Look at him blush.” Dede shimmied back to the stove, looked into the pan, and frowned. “Oh darn!”
Prem registered movement out of the corner of his eye. In the living room, a beautiful calico cat stared at him with probing blue eyes.
Desperate to change the subject, he pointed at the young feline. “Who’s that?”
Layla followed his finger. “Garland.” The word was a sigh. “Garland doesn’t like me.”
“Impossible,” Prem said.
“It’s okay.” Layla put her chin on the top of his head. “I love her unconditionally, and if she wants space, that’s what I’ll give her.”
If there weren’t a cat on his lap, Prem would stand and kiss Layla even in front of her mother. He’d seen more than one pet guardian give up on their pet because the animal didn’t perfectly meet their expectations. An adorable puppy grew up into a dog who barked too much or chewed shoes. A cat was too shy or scratched the furniture. A guinea pig wasn’t as exciting as a child had wanted.
But every animal was a unique being with their own personality quirks, just like humans. Some were shy. Some were hyper. Some had anxieties and others special needs. The fact that Layla gave Garland the space and patience she needed to be comfortable was truly incredible.
“And here we go.” Dede set down a plate stacked with charcoal blocks vaguely shaped like pancakes.
Prem could have sworn he saw Layla make the sign of the cross over her heart before putting a pancake on her plate.
“I’m going to be running, so I can’t eat too much,” she said sweetly.
“Well, that leaves us, then, Prem,” Dede said, sitting down. “Eat up!”
He went for the eggs first. Big mistake. Somehow, they managed to be cold and slimy while also possessing a disconcerting crunch.
“Mmmmm,” Prem managed as his eyes watered. He turned the syrup bottle upside down and flooded the three pancake bricks on his plate. At least the coffee was drinkable, though Dede had seemingly filled half the mug with cream and sugar.
Prem made a note to hit the gym today.
“So, I heard you saved a camel the other day,” Dede said, happily crunching on her eggs.
“I already told you that story,” Layla said before sipping from a glass of orange juice.
“Well, I want to hear it from Prem,” Dede insisted.
As he looked between the two smiling women, something strange stirred inside Prem’s soul. A warmth flickered to life. A hope. A longing. Is this what family could be like? A relationship of mutual friendship, trust, and respect?
“Paging Dr. Dhawan,” Layla said.
Prem snapped to the present. Two identical pairs of blue eyes stared at him
“So, Layla told you the story, huh?” he replied, a smile playing across his lips. “Did she tell you about the penis tattoo on her forehead!”
“PREM, you narc!” Layla gasped and hurled a rock-hard pancake at him.
The table exploded in laughter.