Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(30)

“That’s the point,” he said, thinking of his investors. “We want everyone to know.”

“They’re also going to find out when we break up. And do you know what’s going to happen after that? They’ll turn on me. Because hello! We live in a shit world where it’s always the woman’s fault.”

“I don’t think—”

Kareena held up a finger, her eyes widened with a look that only an Indian woman who demanded attention could give. “Don’t even think about trying to lie to me on this one,” she said. “My reputation is going to be completely fucked. And I may have the house, which is something I desperately want, but the chance of me finding a person to love after that is going to be infinitely harder. So, while I have the time, as short a time frame as it might be, I don’t want to get engaged to you, or pretend to marry you just yet. I want to try to find the real deal before I risk my entire future. Otherwise, I’ll be stuck trying to find a man from California.”

“Hey, I’m from California.”

“My point exactly. You still smell like narcissism and avocados.”

“Cute,” he said.

But Kareena wasn’t wrong about her stakes. At the end of the day, the stakes were a lot higher for her than for him, and he’d be an asshole if he didn’t respect that, didn’t understand the power dynamics that still existed for Indian women.

Prem reached out and linked his fingers with hers, enjoying the pleasant jolt that coursed up his arm. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s just we have so little time . . .”

Kareena pulled away, her hand trembling ever so slightly. “I don’t want to put all my ovaries in one basket,” she said dryly.

Prem shook his head. “Okay, but you’ve made your point. And when it comes down to it, I’ll take the fall as much as I can to protect you as much as I can. But I do want to say something on my next show.”

“Tell your audience that we’ve met and talked. That we’ve come to a mutual understanding that you’re wrong.”

“Ha ha,” he said. Her mutinous expression made it clear that she wasn’t going to budge.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll play it your way. Try to date other people before you come back to me. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to wait around for you to make up your mind. Give me your phone.”

She stuck her tongue out at him but handed over her cell. He quickly called himself, and then handed back the device. “Please don’t block me; otherwise, I’ll have to involve the aunties again.”

Kareena groaned. “Keep them out of this. At least for now. I don’t want them to make this situation more complicated for me.”

“At least your aunties aren’t vicious,” he said. He thought about the women at home who were best friends with his mother. They were more of the traditional, stereotypical aunty archetype. They judged, and gossiped, and upheld old colonialist and patriarchal views, and then pinched cheeks and pretended that what they said was to help others. Meanwhile, Kareena’s aunties were a bit more . . . progressive.

“My aunties are meddlers,” she said. “Seriously, if you want me to consider your plan, then you have to keep them out of this.”

Prem gripped the bedrails and leaned in until their noses were practically touching. He could hear the hitch in Kareena’s breath, and he liked to think that despite her animosity, there was something about him that affected her the same way he was affected by her presence.

“I will keep the aunties out of this for a little while longer, but once we get close to our deadline, all bets are off. I have a lot of money riding on our engagement, and I need it to build my health center. I will play dirty if I have to.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you seriously threatening me?”

“Not at all, Rina.”

The glass pane door of their ER cubicle opened, and the curtain whipped back. An older woman with a helmet of white hair, wearing a pink pair of scrubs, entered. “Kareena Mann?”

Kareena nodded.

The woman turned to Prem. “Dr. Verma, I didn’t realize that you were still here.”

He stood and crumpled the empty plastic mixed nuts bag. “I was just leaving. Kareena? I’ll talk to you later. Text me if you need anything.”

“I won’t.”

“I will be seeing you soon.”

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it,” she mumbled.

Prem stared at her for a moment longer, then he motioned for the nurse to follow him out of the room.

She gave him a wary look and ignored Kareena’s protest as they stepped behind the curtain and glass pane. When they were out of hearing distance, the nurse said his name like a question.

“Mrs. Baker,” he said to the nurse. “Kareena and I are . . . close.”

The nurse’s eyes went wide. Prem could only imagine that she’d be bursting at the seams, ready to tell the rest of the staff at the station that he was in a relationship.

“Yes, sir. We’ll take very good care of it.”

“I know you will. Can you recommend to her physician that they add to her aftercare notes that she’s in need of a full physical and an allergy test? She’s going to complain, but I want to make sure that this doesn’t happen to her again.”