Chapter 19 Veera

Chapter 19 Veera

Text messages from one year and two months ago:

VEERA: Hey, your parents are here.

DEEPAK: What? Where?

VEERA: At my father's office. They hit it off at the charity event a few weeks ago so maybe they are working on a fundraiser?

DEEPAK: No clue. Let me know if you find out?

VEERA: Yeah, and let me know if you hear anything

DEEPAK: Will do. I'll see you at Prem and Kareena's wedding.

VEERA: Wait, don't we have dinner plans before then?

DEEPAK: I'm sorry, I have to cancel. Work thing came up.

VEERA: Oh, okay. No problem. Talk to you later.

Veera stood in the small office space in the back of Rani's, Benjamin's new luxury dining restaurant, and waited patiently while Bobbi and Kareena fussed over her.

"Are you serious about Deepak being the one who tied your dupatta?" Bobbi asked, as she double checked the pin at her shoulder.

"He did a phenomenal job."

"He did," Veera said quietly as she wore the gold bangles, the Datta women's heirlooms, which one day she'd have to give back.

She watched the inlaid diamonds sparkle and match the glitter of her wedding rings in the low overhead lighting.

She debated telling them exactly how helpful he'd been. Her friends had always been honest with her about their romances,

and she could only do the same. She knew that she'd hurt them when she left, even though they'd been busy with their own lives.

There would be some space between them now that they were partnered, but these women would always be important to her.

"What if I told you," she started slowly, "that Deepak kissed me?"

Bobbi and Kareena looked at each other, then back at Veera.

"What kind of kissing," Bobbi said, "the kind to impress a board member, or the kind that impressed you?"

"The kind that was not exactly on my mouth," Veera said slowly.

This time she saw the wide-eyed shock on Kareena's and Bobbi's faces.

"How do you feel?" Kareena said slowly. She hovered at Veera's side, as if she were standing guard just in case Veera stumbled

to her feet and needed someone to pick her up.

"I have no idea what we're doing," Veera replied. She tugged on the end of her braid, then stopped when Bobbi pushed her hands

aside, so she didn't loosen her hairpins. "Things are getting out of hand, and now we're not only lying to our community,

but we're lying to ourselves."

"You have to talk to him," Kareena said, as she ran a hand over Veera's shoulder. "You know that, right?"

"Not yet," she said, turning to look at Bobbi, then Kareena. "I know we have to, but maybe we can just wait until after the

board vote. Until after Deepak gets the position he wants, and I get the job that I've been working hard for. I'm excited

about a project after so long, and I don't want to lose that yet."

There was that shared look that her friends had again, the one that meant they were having a completely separate conversation

without her.

"Why don't we put Deepak out of your mind for now?" Kareena said. She rested her hand on Veera's shoulder before meeting Veera's

eyes in the standing mirror that was set up for them in Bunty's office. Her bindi, the same one Veera and Bobbi wore, winked

in the overhead light. "Let's focus on the wedding reception. Is there anything you need us to do before we go out there?"

Working a room of business associates was something Veera could handle. She didn't need her friends for that. It's just that

not all of them were business associates...

"Other than Deepak, my biggest concern is seeing my mother again," Veera finally said, as she covered Kareena's hand with

hers, then looked over at Bobbi.

When her father had fired her, Namrata Mathur had made every excuse under the sun for his behavior. She'd always been Veera's

staunchest supporter, but for some reason, she'd sided with her father when Veera had been fired.

"Honey, it's too late to uninvite her," Bobbi said.

The three of them stood as a unit, staring at their reflection. Veera could remember the days when they'd all posed in front

of a similar mirror before weekend brunches in college. She wished she'd appreciated those moments more when she'd had them.

"If I can't uninvite my problems, then let's just get this over with," she said with a sigh. "I have to face my mother sooner or later, and she's ridiculously punctual. Indian standard time does not exist for her. Once our reunion is finished, I can work my way through the rest of this party."

"You and Deepak have your stories straight?" Bobbi asked.

"You mean our lies?" Veera said. She adjusted her dupatta one last time and straightened her shoulders. "I can't believe that

I've become this fraud. Did you know, I pay my taxes early? I have never even gotten a parking ticket in my life. And now,

I'm fooling so many people."

Bobbi gripped her arms and positioned her so she could look Veera directly in the face. "You are not a fraud, honey. You are

celebrating a real wedding that happened."

"That's a nicer way of looking at it than conning everyone by celebrating a fake marriage."

"Okay, enough procrastinating," Kareena added. "It's showtime." She straightened her flowing lehenga, a bright outfit in colorful

prints with a sophisticated design down the front. It matched Bobbi's outfit, which was cut slightly differently but had matching

patterns.

They were slightly altered bridesmaids' outfits from Kareena's wedding.

Bobbi opened the door and gave Veera one hard nudge until they were all walking like a unit into the restaurant's dining area.

"It's show time."

Rani's was different from Benjamin's other restaurants. The large space had a domed ceiling with crystal chandeliers that sparkled. The walls were mirrored and hundreds of twinkle lights lined the molding and the walls. The curved bar in the far corner was made of glass and mirror with batik artwork and a pale sandstone backdrop. The tablecloths were cobalt blue with floral sculptures reaching six feet off the table. Waitstaff carried copper trays piled high with appetizers. In the corner, a trio of musicians sat on thick jewel-toned cushions, and with classic Indian instruments, played Bollywood music from a nineties movie her mother used to love when Veera and Sana were children.

In the front of the room was a sweetheart table with a four-tier cake decorated in swirling mehndi designs. The top tier was

a mango mousse in honor of their Goan wedding.

Veera smiled at the tropical tribute.

Wish you were here by my side, Sana.

She'd tried to talk to her sister before the reception, but her text messages had gone unanswered.

There was already a crowd of guests milling around in clusters. They smiled in Veera's direction when she walked in. Some

were familiar, some were new. She lifted a finger and pressed it over the tiny jewel bindi she'd stuck between her eyebrows

to secure it in place, then scanned the room to look for Deepak.

She spotted him right away, standing in the corner with Prem and Benjamin.

His eyes met hers, and like they were in sync again, they gravitated toward each other. When they were less than two feet

apart, he reached for her, and she slipped her hand into his. They locked their fingers together. Her continent-size diamond

ring glinted the same way the gold band on his left hand was like a beacon.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," she replied. And swallowed the nauseous feeling of guilt.

As if their words had been put on blast across the restaurant, a line began to form of guests wanting to say hello to the newly married couple. They stood side by side as they accepted congratulations from family friends, members of the community, and business colleagues.

We all knew that you two were meant to be.

It would've saved your parents so much money if you had just admitted how perfect you are together and gotten engaged first.

That poor Olivia. We knew that she never had a chance. Was she invited here?

Veera, your father did the right thing, forcing you to retire. You two can now start your family.

Deepak, what is the secret to getting two beautiful women to agree to marry you? Glad you went with this one. You both always

looked like the perfect couple.

Hey, it is open bar, right?

Veera gritted her teeth as she accepted backhanded compliments, posed for pictures, shook hands, and bent down to respectfully

touch the feet of her elders, waiting for their blessings.

She saw the tension lines forming around Deepak's mouth out of the corner of her eye and knew that even though he was shaking

hands with everyone, he was probably thinking the same thing that was running through her mind.

Would he get married again to the appropriate Mrs. CEO spouse after they were finished?

Would these same colleagues give more of those pretty jeweled cash envelopes with paisley stamps on them as a gift?

Veera had just finished posing for a picture when a familiar woman stepped in front of her line of sight. She was the last

one in the receiving line, and looking at her was like looking in a mirror and seeing herself twenty years in the future.

Namrata Mathur was a force. She had chaired multiple South Asian fundraising and organization initiatives in her time as wife of the Mathur Financial Group's CEO, and she'd raised Sana and Veera with strict love, without the help of nannies or housekeepers like so many of her friends. Now, she was here in the receiving line, proudly standing by herself without her husband at her side.

Even though she wasn't cohosting the party the way that everyone probably expected, she still looked like the mother of the

bride in her sequined silver column gown.

"You look so beautiful," Namrata said, her eyes shining with tears.

Veera could feel her own eyes brimming and, on their own volition, her arms opened. The older woman immediately stepped into

the embrace. The familiar sent of Chanel enveloped her, and those tight arms squeezed as if Veera was the only person in the

room.

Veera loved her mother with every part of her, but that didn't stop her from hurting. From wanting something more.

Then, like a pebble in a slingshot, she was snapped back to reality when her mother began fussing with her hair and clothes.

"Your lipstick is such a dark color, Veera. Next time, wear something a bit brighter so your skin can glow. You and Deepak

should've come to see me the minute you landed. There are poojas to do, you know. Instead, I get a call from Bobbi, and a

string of texts from you. Can you imagine how that makes your father and I look?"

"There she is," Veera said with a smile.

As if Namrata Mathur had run out of steam, she sighed, and adjusted Veera's dupatta. "I wish your sister was here, too. Everyone

keeps talking about some assignment she's doing. As if that is more important than celebrating your reception."

"Well, she was at the wedding," Veera said.

She winced when she saw her mother's crestfallen expression. "Mama, I'm sorry, I—"

"No, you were always doing your own thing," she said with a flick of her wrist. Her silver bangles chimed. "Marching to the

beat of your own tabla, as they say."

"I don't think anyone says tabla, but I get it," Veera replied. She pulled her mother close for another hug, and the rough

texture of sequins, the stiff fabric pinned into place was a familiar comfort that she remembered from childhood. With her

lips against her mother's ear, she whispered, "I wish you'd been there, too."

They separated to the sound of her mother's sniffle barely audible over the instrumental music and the hum of laughter from

neighboring tables.

"Mama, why don't you go sit with Deepak's parents? We'll have Deepak's father give a speech soon, then we'll do the first

dance and cut the cake."

Veera's mother nodded and patted her cheek. "Good. I have to go talk to Seema first. That witch is spreading all sorts of

rumors about why your father and sister aren't present. I'm going to give her a piece of my mind."

Without another word, she was off in a flurry of sparking jewel tones and Deepak and Veera were alone for the first time since

they started the receiving line.

"If we had done this the right way," Deepak said, turning her so she faced him, "we would've probably danced our way out to

some incredibly cheesy song and missed the whole receiving line in the first place," Deepak said ruefully. "I'm sorry; I know

that wasn't your favorite experience."

"It's fine," she said. She smiled at a guest who passed by with drinks in each hand before she looked back at Deepak. If she could get a short break, she would be able to shore up her carefully constructed facade. If she didn't, then there was a chance sarcastic Veera would come out and feelings would get hurt.

"Any chance you can buy me ten minutes? I just need to not look at people for a moment."

"Yeah, of course," he said.

He glanced over her shoulder and scanned their audience. Because he looked like he was trying to decide the appropriate way

to let her go while a crowd of people had their eyes trained on them, Veera stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss against

his jaw. Using the pad of her thumb, she brushed the faint lipstick mark away. The intimate gesture had been more for herself,

but it didn't hurt that it sold their image, too.

She turned on her heels and crossed the room. When Veera met Bobbi's eyes, she held up two fingers, and Bobbi motioned to

the back hall and mouthed the word office .

Walking through a crowded wedding reception was like walking through an auntie landmine. It took her ten minutes, but every

time she passed a group of older women, she mentioned that she had to fix her dupatta, which hurried conversations.

She was grateful for the silence when she finally entered Bunty's office and closed the door behind her.

There was a jhoola set up in the corner past the standing mirror that she'd admired when she'd first arrived at the restaurant.

Bobbi had mentioned that she wanted the ornate daybed swing to be a featured seating spot in the dining room, but there wasn't

enough space after Deepak's parents added an extra twenty guests to the list.

That was fine by her, she thought. She loved having the jhoola to herself. She'd use it during a few minutes of reprieve.

People-ing was exhausting.

Veera hiked up her lehenga to midthigh and climbed on top of the swing. Then she crossed her legs and covered her knees with her skirt.

The seat began to sway in a gentle rhythm that had her sighing in pleasure. Just as she closed her eyes, the office door creaked

open, and a small head framed by a riot of curls popped through the opening.

There were a few children at the reception, but Veera had no idea who any of them were or who they belonged to. So she did

what any normal adult would do in her situation.

She waved.

A small hand appeared and waved back.

"Are you hiding?" the tiny voice said.

"Yup," she replied.

"Can I hide with you?"

Veera shrugged. "Sure, but it'll cost you."

The head bobbled up and down. "Like money?"

Veera shook her head. Then, as if on command her stomach rumbled. She pressed a palm to her abdomen. "Got any food?"

The small little face lit up, then disappeared.

She shrugged. Maybe the fee was too high for the kid.

A few minutes later, when she was sure that she had pulled herself together enough to go back out in the crowd, the door opened

again.

This time, the curly-haired kid was holding a wide plate filled with an eclectic array of desserts. He stepped inside the

room, and Veera finally got a look at his outfit. He had on pleated black pants, shiny black shoes, a white button-down shirt,

and a clip-on bowtie with suspenders.

Damn, tiny clothes were so cute.

Veera held her breath as he bit his tongue between his teeth and carried the plate to the swing. He wobbled back and forth, and for a moment, she wasn't sure if he was going to make it.

"Wow, that looks so yummy," she said softly, before she took the plate from him. She patted the spot next to her on the swing

and tried to steady the jhoola from swaying too much as he belly crawled his way onto the seat. He adjusted his red suspenders

and crossed his legs the same way she had. The plate of sweets was arranged between them.

"How did you get all these?" Veera asked him.

"I took them off the dessert table," he said. Then held a finger to his mouth and giggled.

"Want to share?" she asked.

The big head of curls nodded. "My mom said I could only have one."

Veera glanced at the door, then back at the plate. "I won't tell if you won't?"

She was met with a bright, happy smile. "Deal."

They both picked up the soft gulab jamuns first. The fried doughballs were sticky sweet and coated in rose syrup.

"Cheers," she said and held it out to her companion. He looked at it with confusion, then pinched his tongue between his lips

before carefully tapping his gulab jamun against hers. The syrup dripped everywhere before they shoved them in their mouths.

With chipmunk cheeks and sticky fingers they began to giggle.

The door opened again and they both whirled toward the sound. The boy gasped, as if he were afraid of getting caught, and

Veera straightened, her chin lifting in defiance. She was going to protect this child from punishment. This innocent brought

her dessert.

When Deepak stepped inside, his gaze went to her sticky fingers, her chipmunk cheeks, the plate on the jhoola, and her companion.

She could tell that he was trying not to smile as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Raj, you know you get sick if you eat too many sweets."

Veera swallowed the delicious gulab jamun and then held her hand out as if to cover the plate between them. "It's not his,

it's mine. He was just, ah, keeping me company."

"Right. If that were true, then why are both of your hands covered in rose syrup?"

"Ah, taste tester?"

The little boy giggled and hopped off the bed. "Bye, Auntie," he called out then ran around Deepak's legs and out the door.

Veera gaped at him. " Auntie? And to think I liked that kid."

"Marriage has officially changed your status," Deepak said. He crossed the room and examined the sweets. "Need some more time?"

Veera examined the different offerings and picked up a fruit tart. She held it out to him, and instead of taking it from her

hand, he leaned down so she could feed him. His teeth grazed her fingertips and she trembled as his eyes met hers.

Then he gripped her wrist, his hand covering the bracelets that his mother had given her, and slipped her fingers into his

mouth. He sucked slowly, deeply, licking off the sugar-sweet gulab jamun syrup until there was nothing left.

She gasped at the feel of his tongue, of his lips closing over her knuckle and the soft suction into his mouth. When her fingers

were no longer sticky, he let go of her wrist and slowly pulled her fingers clean.

"We should go," he said gruffly. "People are going to wonder where we are, and my father wants to give his speech. He said

it's the most important keynote he's ever had to give in his life, and we have to humor him."

Veera pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. "Okay," she said. "I'm ready."

When he pulled her to her feet and her lehenga fell around her ankles again, he held her arms to steady her while she put

her shoes back on.

"Veera?"

"Yeah?"

"We can just go," Deepak said. "Just say the word, and we'll walk right out."

She smiled, and for the first time since they had gotten married, she truly appreciated that Deepak could see all the strange,

jagged facets of her heart. "Thanks," she said. "Thanks. Just telling me that makes me feel better."

"Good," he said. "We're a team."

"We're a team," she repeated. "But if I continue to hide back here, my mother with drag me out by my hair. I don't think I'm

safe even if you try to take me away."

The corner of his mouth curled up. "I'll risk it."

She took his hand as he led her out of the office. "Hey, how's the whiskey bar? I haven't tried it yet."

"The aunties are hitting it hard, so I think it's a success," Deepak replied.