Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(22)

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.”

“What are you talking about?” Kareena asked. She turned to her aunties. “I didn’t give you my biodata.”

Every last one of them looked guilty. Farah Aunty said, “Darling, we just wanted to help. We wanted it to be like a birthday present for you.”

“We got the platinum subscription plan ready for Shaadi.com,” Mona Aunty said, referring to the popular arranged marriage dating website. “But no matches yet according to the criteria we chose. We also used my coupon for a session with the matchmaker pandit in Jackson Heights, Queens, who was supposed to give advice on your future match. It was twenty minutes, and all he said was that you’d meet your match this year, so not very helpful.”

Falguni Aunty cleared her throat. “And to be honest, beta, we reached out to our personal network, and all the other aunties didn’t want their sons near you. They were afraid that you’d be too . . .”

“Difficult,” they said in unison.

“God save me from desi aunties and desi men,” Kareena grumbled. She propped her elbows on her knees to rest her chin on her fists.

“Prem, your reputation is, frankly, not that great, either,” Bindu said. “This is not just affecting my sister.”

“Because you livestreamed our argument!”

“I forgot it was still recording.” Bindu tossed her long wavy hair over her shoulder. “But I’m not mad about it. Viewership is up. I know this sucks for you, so I’m helping the aunties. Because you two only have each other now.”

“Bindu,” Kareena snapped.

“The best marriages start this way,” Farah Aunty. “Don’t you watch Bollywood movies? You two have so much fire. Everyone saw it. Our proposition is that you two get to know each other. Just see if there is anything more.”

Prem would’ve believed the aunties a week ago when he had the best conversation of his life with a woman named Rina at a bar. Now, any attraction between them didn’t matter. He was almost 100 percent positive of that. This was a disaster waiting to happen. “Mrs. Gupta said this can work,” Dadi added.

“Who is Mrs. Gupta?” Prem asked. “Another aunty?”

“Close enough,” Kareena said. “She’s a gossip columnist who gives dating advice for Indians Abroad.”

“She wrote that a woman with intelligence and beauty, with fire, needs a partner who has the same amount of intelligence and handsomeness.” Dadi motioned to Kareena and Prem. “See? She’s right.”