The Dating Plan(2)
In any event, it was all very disappointing. When she and Orson had been together, he had been an efficient, no-nonsense lover, expressing the satisfactory outcome of their coupling with a whoosh of air followed by glass of Rioja and a deep dive into Aristotle’s science of logic envisioned through the syllogism. There had been no moans or panting, no bras falling on the filthy tiles (thank God!), and no automatic toilets flushing a symphony of germs into the air.
The second pad dropped out of the machine, followed by another and another. Boxed pads shot out of the machine, hitting Daisy in the chest like bullets. She dropped to a crouch, scrambling to catch them before they touched the floor.
“Is someone there?” Madison called out.
Oh the huge manatee. Programmer slang for a catastrophic data failure, or in this case, a malfunctioning menstrual pad machine. Panicking, Daisy grabbed the boxes and bolted out of the restroom.
“Daisy! I was looking for you.” Salena Auntie, her father’s sister, ambushed her only a few steps from the door.
“What are you doing here, Auntie-ji?” Chest heaving, she looked over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t been followed. The last thing she wanted was for Madison and Orson to think she’d been spying on them. Although she’d been devastated by their betrayal, she wasn’t the type of woman who wanted revenge, nor would she ever stoop to begging Orson to take her back. She wasn’t that pathetic. One unfortunate drunk dial had cured her of that.
“I was having lunch with my friend Anushka and her son, Roshan, and they mentioned he was looking for a wife.” Salena Auntie gestured to the tall, handsome man behind her. “I thought you’d be perfect for each other. I called your office and they said you were here, so we thought we’d drop in.”
Daisy bit back a groan. Her aunties had been on a mission to get her married ever since her cousin Layla had gotten engaged, approaching the task with military precision. They showed up unannounced and unexpected at her home, her gym, grocery stores, and malls, always with an innocent bachelor in tow, and always on the pretense of “just being in the neighborhood” even if the “neighborhood” was an hour away.
“I’m so sorry.” Daisy shot what she hoped was an apologetic smile at the dark-haired stranger. “I don’t have time to chat. I’m about to go into a pitch session, and I have to get these product samples to my boss.”
“But you haven’t even met Roshan!”
“Another time!” She bolted away, clutching the boxes of pads as she wove in and out of the crowd, her heart pounding in her chest. When she’d woken up this morning, she would never have guessed she would be pulled away from her cozy workspace and dragged to a tech conference, only to wind up on the run from her ex, with an armload of pads and her matchmaking auntie hot on her heels.
Maybe she hadn’t woken up. Maybe this was just a dream and any moment now she would open her eyes and . . .
“Ooof.” She hit a slab of something rock hard and teetered back on red Mary Janes that were slightly too high for comfort but looked fabulous with her red flowered minidress. Daisy didn’t care that her feet were usually hidden away under her desk all day. Shoes made an outfit. Whether they were kitten heels with kitten faces, funky flats decorated with embroidered bananas, or even her blinged-up biker boots, her shoes were always the finishing touch to her somewhat eclectic sense of style.
Off-balance, she dropped the pads, her hands flailing for purchase, her Marvel Universe tote bag swinging from her shoulder. Tyler was going to kill her if she didn’t die from the cerebral hemorrhage that would be inevitable once her head hit the tile floor. At least Salena Auntie was there. One text and the entire Patel family would know when and how she died, and the funeral would be arranged before the ambulance arrived to take her to the morgue.
Time slowed and she squeezed her eyes shut as she fell, trying to remember every moment of her twenty-seven years on earth—happy family, sad family, small family, big family, heartache, heartbreak, Max . . .
She was so preoccupied with reliving her most poignant memories that it took her a moment to realize she was no longer airborne. Strong, warm hands encircled her waist, holding her safe.
“Are you okay?”
Deep, warming, and as delicious as liquid caramel, the voice sent a tingle of electricity down her spine, and a jolt of recognition through her body as hard as the strong arms around her.
She knew that voice. She had heard it almost every day for ten years. Her gaze lifted, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.
Liam Freaking Bastard Murphy.
Her brother’s onetime best friend. Her undying preteen crush, teen obsession, and still the object of her nightly fantasies. The man who had broken her heart and disappeared from her life never to be seen or heard from again . . .
Her pulse kicked up a notch, as the still-functioning part of her brain cataloged his appearance. Time had worn hard lines and chiseled planes into what had once been a slightly rounded face, tipping the balance from simply handsome into breathtakingly gorgeous. A five-o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, and his lips—God, his lips—were firm and curved into the familiar smile that had once made her weak in the knees.
“Daisy?!” His voice rose slightly in pitch, and her gaze snapped up to eyes as blue as the ocean she had wanted to drown herself in after Liam stood her up on the night of her senior prom and scurried off into oblivion like the lowly night-crawling scumbag he had turned out to be.