Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(21)

“She started it,” Prem shouted back. When he reached the snack table and grabbed another samosa from one of the trays so that he held one in each hand.

“This is for the damn Pedialyte!” he shouted and chucked them at her. A fried triangle hit her square in the forehead and smashed flat like a pancake.

“Ouch!”

“Not the bloody samosas!” Sonali Aunty yelled from behind him.

He lunged to the left, then faked right, and went left again. Kareena grabbed a potato tikki and hurled it. Before he could dodge the flying disc, it hit him in the arm.

“You deserve to burn in hell, Dr. Phil!” she shouted.

“I thought the show was called Dr. Dil,” Dadi said over the chaos.

“She’s saying it wrong on purpose,” Bindu replied.

Kareena’s voice cracked as she shouted, “You’re setting women back decades. Using emotions to get in their pants but then claiming that love is an illusion, so you don’t have to commit to anyone. Aunties are going to think that everyone should go back to only having arranged marriages. Marriage should be about finding your perfect life partner!”

“Life partners?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Jeevansathis? You have got to be kidding me. Because of you, I’m going to dedicate every episode for the rest of the season to how people like you are delusional.”

She gasped, jaw gaping as she stood behind her aunties. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Before Kareena could grab Prem, the fourth aunty, who had remained undisturbed throughout the chaos, stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle sharp enough to rupture eardrums.

Everyone paused.

“Sit down,” she said.

“No, thank you,” Prem said. He’d had enough of this nonsense. “I’m leaving before I—”

“Sit down!” she roared.

He followed the authoritative order like he’d been conditioned to since childhood and sat in the closest available chair. Kareena reacted in the same way, and now he was stuck next to the woman who smelled faintly of motor oil and hints of sandalwood and vanilla.

Sandalwood and vanilla. His hands fisted at the sensory memory.

The aunty looked pleased with herself as she clasped her hands in front of her. “Now. I’m the last to introduce myself. I’m Farah Aunty, Prem, and I think it’s better if we start in the beginning.”

“That would be helpful,” Prem murmured. He was going to need to get a drink after this just to cope.

“You see,” Farah Aunty started. “Because Kareena is like a second daughter to us, we care about her well-being.”

Every single woman in the room nodded. Kareena still looked mutinous sitting next to him, but she didn’t argue. Interesting.

“This house was designed by Kareena’s mother when the Manns moved to New Jersey,” Falguni Aunty began. “But Kareena’s father is retiring, and he needs money for his retirement so he’s selling the house. For Kareena to keep this house, she has to buy it from her father.”

“But Kareena doesn’t have the money, so she has to get engaged so she can get the money set aside for her to use as the down payment,” Mona Aunty said.

Huh. She’d told him that night she was trying to buy her mother’s house, but the rest was interesting.

Kareena gasped. “Seriously? Why are we giving this man ammunition?” The last remaining samosa potato and pea that was stuck to her forehead fell off, and she brushed it aside.

“Oh hush,” Sonali Aunty said. She turned back to Prem. “Beta, her mother was one of our dearest friends, and we’re just as attached to the memories in this home that will hopefully go to Kareena.”

“Good luck with that,” Prem snorted.

“Hey!” Kareena snapped. She leaned forward into his space, and he could see the thick sweep of black lashes behind her glasses. “It didn’t take me too long to get you wrapped around my finger, did it?”

She was absolutely correct, but before he could defend himself, Bindu held up her hands in a T-shape. “Neither of you are married or seeing anyone. The aunties did background checks.”

“Background checks?” Prem asked. “How did you . . . I mean, I didn’t give you any of my personal information.”

Farah Aunty stood from her chair, brushed off her shoulders, and then stepped closer until she could whisper in his face, “I have your home address, genealogy history, the balance on your credit card, and your Social Security number, beta. As well as the name of your pet beta fish when you were six. Don’t test us.”

Damn, that was scary.

“The bottom line is that Kareena needs a man,” she continued. “Which is why we asked Bindu to help us bring you here.”

Prem scanned all the expectant faces in front of him and realized exactly where this was going. Damn, he knew this was a setup. If there were aunties and single people in a room together, there was bound to be some sort of matchmaking. “You’re joking if you think that this woman and I would be a good match,” Prem said. He’d believed it at one time, but not anymore. “I mean, we both dodged a bullet when I got a call and had to leave our—”

“Date,” she interjected.

“Date.”

Bindu rushed on, her wrists covered in gold bangles clinking as she wrung her fingers together. “The aunties sent out Kareena’s biodata in their network, and literally no one wants to date her. She’ll have to marry someone who isn’t desi at this rate.”