Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(68)
She nodded and motioned to her bedroom behind her. “Yes, I still live at home.” And she planned to for as long as possible.
“You’re . . . serious.” His eyes widened almost comically.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.” He looked around and sat up in his chair, hands up in surrender. “Not judging. Do you live in a separate apartment or something in your parents’ house?”
Kareena shook her head even as her back stiffened at the judgment in his tone. “My mother designed this house. It was her dream home when my parents could finally afford a place. After she died, I started renovating it myself because I knew that’s what she would’ve wanted. It’s a labor of love.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Kareena. Sonali Aunty said you were interested in dating someone long-term. He has to be ambitious, and a bunch of other requirements you’d shared with them.”
“That sounds about right. Why?”
His table lamp cast a shadow of harsh light across his face that made his sneer look ugly. “I’m not telling you anything you probably haven’t heard before, but maybe you should manage your expectations.”
“Excuse me? Manage my— Okay . . . I’m a sucker for punishment. Why?”
He gave her the once-over and shrugged. “Let’s start with the sweater vests. You’re not exactly opening yourself up for connection.”
She ran a hand over the soft fabric that covered her from shoulder to waist. “You’re judging me because of my sweater vest?”
“Hey, no need to shout.” Then he shushed her. He looked over his shoulder, and the green screen background shifted. “It’s late. Kareena, you just admitted that you live at home. I mean, women like you have to find solace in their job, because I doubt you’ll find a man to support you financially.”
“I’m hoping you’re not implying what I think you are, because that’s fucking obnoxious.”
His mouth fell open at the curse word, but like she could care.
His hands came up in a defensive gesture. “All I’m saying is that maybe you’re single because the things you’re looking for in a guy are what you’re really lacking in yourself? I mean, how can anyone take you seriously? Living at home as an attorney tells me that you have zero ambition to start your life. And let’s not even get into how you chose to wear a sweater vest to our virtual date. It’s summer.” He motioned to her maroon sweater vest. “It’s like a uniform or something.”
“Those are big words for a man with a pea brain.”
“I’m just trying to help you here!” he said. “If you ever want to find someone, you have to listen to advice, even if it’s painful to hear. Maybe do some introspection, you know? Maybe reevaluate your standards. Lower them to . . . well, your level. Get your life in order, move out of your house, be more independent so that you’re more marketable on the dating scene. Oh, and you could probably use a better skin care routine. With some makeup.”
He had to be the ugliest man she’d met. “A woman’s worth isn’t only to be a wife,” Kareena said. “And I don’t give a fuck what you think. I’d rather be alone than lower my standards for any man who doesn’t deserve me.”
“Oh, honey. You could never—”
“See you never, Vikram,” she said, and she slammed her laptop shut.
Fuck Vikram and his bullshit assessment of her wants and needs. Of her sweater vest and her home life. Fuck her aunties for setting her up, and her father and grandmother for putting her in this situation in the first place. And fuck Prem for making her doubt love in the first place.
Kareena paced the length of her room, fuming and cursing men for a full fifteen minutes before she was able to calm down. Damn it, she deserved everything she wanted in life, and no one was going to tell her differently.
After another minute, she debated going downstairs and getting a glass of water, but the TV was still on in the living room. She could hear the barely-there hum of late-night Indian soap operas. If Dadi saw her in her current state, then she’d be grilled and berated until every last hope for peace was out the window.
“I just have to separate myself from shitty men,” Kareena murmured as she took her sweater vest off and changed into a pair of leggings, a T-shirt, and zip-up hoodie. There was no way she was going to sleep now. Hell, she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the last time she’d been with Prem. It was as if he was the secret to getting a solid eight hours for her.
Grabbing her Kindle, she rolled onto her bed and prepared for a night of drowning herself in paranormal romances. At least shape-shifters and vampires understood the meaning of fated mates.
“Fuck you, Vikram,” she said, her hands steadying as she tapped on the icon of her current read.
Kareena was about a page and a half into the newest Nalini Singh book when her phone pinged with a new text message. It was probably one of the aunties texting about the date. No doubt Vikram went and tattled right away. Kareena ignored it, but when it started ringing from an incoming call, she got up to check the screen.
Her chest constricted when she saw Prem’s name. He was probably the last person to talk to in her current state, but a part of her missed him and wanted to hear his voice.