Rebel Hard (Hard Play #2)(27)

A sudden, awful lurch in Nayna’s gut. Raj hadn’t met Madhuri, she suddenly realized. She couldn’t help but imagine his reaction when he did. Her sister genuinely looked like a Bollywood movie actress. Fair skinned; shiny, tumbling hair with tousled curls; height enough to match Raj’s; and a lush sensuality that drew men like moths to a flame regardless of her status as a young divorcée.

“He is supremely hot.” Nayna tried not to feel nauseated at her belated realization, at the knowledge that the man who’d called her beautiful had never met the other Sharma daughter. “But why don’t you tell me about your new job?” she said, desperate to get off the painful topic. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk since you started there.”

Madhuri squeezed Nayna’s arm. “Seriously, Ninu, I love it so much.” A glow in her features that made her impossibly more stunning. “I think it’s my thing.”

Nayna nodded and listened and hoped her sister was right. So far Madhuri hadn’t stuck with anything for more than a year. She managed to pay her rent and keep her finances stable only because their parents and Nayna topped her up. Nayna knew Aji gave her the odd monetary gift too. As an accountant, Nayna was well aware they should let Madhuri sink or swim on her own so she’d learn better financial management, but it was highly unlikely Madhuri would do anything but drown.

Her older sister had never been able to handle money.

It felt terribly unfeminist to even think it, but Madhuri had been born with the kind of beauty that usually led to a rich husband who took care of everything. That could still happen; regardless, Nayna would never leave her sister to flounder and drown. “Anyone you liked in the most recent proposals?” she asked.

Madhuri wrinkled up her nose. “Ugh, just flabby oldies. I’m divorced, not desperate.”

“One hundred percent true.” Nayna spotted the food table, set up for self-service—it was casual tonight with only close family and friends in attendance. “You hungry?”

“Starving. Sugar and ghee, here I come.”

Nayna ran into one of Madhuri’s closest friends, Anjali Kumar, over the mango barfis and white pedas. Basically sugar and milk and flavor and deliciousness. “Anj,” she said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Nayna.” Anjali gave her a hug and a smile that was ragged at the edges; her makeup was as flawless as always, but she had dark shadows under her eyes. Hardly surprising when she had an eighteen-month-old and a new baby. “Where’s Maddie?”

“Did someone say my name?” Madhuri popped up beside Nayna, having successfully navigated the savories and come away with a pile of goodies for them to share.

As Nayna put some sweets on her plate, Anjali and Madhuri fell into soft conversation. Their conversation was intimate, with Madhuri asking, “Has Avinesh been helping with the baby more since his parents had that talk with him?”

“I wish,” Anjali muttered. “He wakes me up when the baby cries, doesn’t know how to change a nappy and doesn’t want to learn, and now he’s picked up squash. Plays three nights a week, then has soccer on the weekends.”

Nayna flinched inside. Three years earlier, Anjali’s now-husband had proposed with a plane flying a banner while they had a private picnic on a beach. Nayna had been overcome by the romance of it all, even more so because theirs had been an arranged match turned love match.

“I wish I’d never gotten married,” Anjali added bitterly. “I love my two boys, but I’d happily divorce Avinesh now if my parents wouldn’t throw a fit.”

“I recommend divorce for getting rid of excess baggage.” Madhuri’s comment made her friend laugh, Anjali’s resentment falling away to reveal the pretty young woman she was underneath it all.

“I better go—Mum’s waving me over. The baby must be grizzling.” She left after exchanging a one-armed hug with Madhuri.

“Well, that was pretty awful to hear,” Nayna murmured to Madhuri after Anjali was out of earshot. “Avinesh was so lovely with her.”

“All men are before marriage,” Madhuri said sagely. “The real trick is finding a man who’ll be lovely after the rings are exchanged.”

On that less-than-cheerful note, they look their plates of snacks and found seats. As the ceremony went on up ahead, they chatted and people-watched and ate too many sweets and savories while discussing which outfit was the blingiest—a serious contest at an Indian wedding—and for a while they were simply sisters again. For one night Nayna wasn’t angry at Madhuri for how she’d changed the course of Nayna’s life.

When her phone buzzed with a message toward the end of the evening, she checked it to see the words: I got the Pride and Prejudice audiobook and listened to a chunk of it while working on a site today. Mr. Darcy is kind of a dick.

Nayna’s body got all warm, her chest squeezing. That big, tough, physical Raj was reading her favorite Austen book, it chipped away more of her armor. It was better than planes flying banners or grand gestures like elopements. She was glad that Madhuri had gone over to catch up with a friend and quickly typed back a response: He holds the title of one of the dickiest heroes ever, but there is a redemption arc.

Raj’s response made the warmth inside her turn fizzy: That Wickham guy is shady. Why is Lizzy being an idiot? No guy goes around spilling his guts like that.