Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(79)

“Oh, the roka!” Mona Aunty said. “I have to order your necklace. Unless you want to wear Dadi’s?”

“I’m proud of you,” Dadi said. “Your mother would be so proud of you, too.”

Kareena’s eyes immediately began to burn, and she could feel the tears climbing her throat. No, her mother wouldn’t be proud of her. She wanted to shout it, to tell everyone to stop celebrating. There was nothing to celebrate.

“Okay, move out of the way. My turn,” Bindu called out as she squeezed between the aunties and enveloped Kareena in a hug.

Kareena let go, ready to step back, but Bindu’s arms tightened around her. “Do you need an escape?” she whispered.

God, how long had it been since they’d done that for each other?

Kareena nodded before letting Bindu go.

Bindu burst out, “Bobbi, I want to change the menu. No Indian food. Just Italian food. And we’re limiting the wedding guest list to a hundred people.”

“Leh,” Dadi said. “This one is talking nonsense.”

“Yeah, I’ll call the venue and make those changes now,” Bobbi said. “Aunties, it’s totally doable and even makes sense in this situation.”

This time the aunties went absolutely ballistic. With their backs turned, and their attention on Bindu, Kareena, Bobbi, and Veera managed to sneak their stuff out of the kitchen and to the car at the end of the block.

When they were seated and strapped in, Kareena took her glasses off and rubbed at her eyes. “Bobbi, you shouldn’t have said anything.”

Bobbi squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, friend. Why don’t we get you to Prem? Maybe being with him will remind you that you don’t have to say the words to love someone.”





Interstitial




Indians Abroad News

For those of you who have watched The Dr. Dil Show on the Jersey City South Asians News Network since its inception, you may find that the content as of late has taken an interesting

turn. Our very own Dr. Dil, Prem Verma, has been bringing more and more relationship advice experts onto the show. Part of

his reasoning has been to showcase the vast array of concerns that affect the South Asian community that he hopes to address

in the Jersey City health community center he’s developing. But some viewers have begun to speculate if the content has been

influenced by a change in his personal relationship status.





Chapter Twenty-Six

Prem




Prem put away his notes for the next Dr. Dil episode and ordered takeout. One day he’d make dinner for Kareena, but he was too amped up to focus on anything else but her arrival. There were candles and her favorite playlist as background music.

He was going to ask her today for permanence. For something more than what they had now. He believed in loyalty and commitment and hard work. He’d take care of her, and hopefully that would convince her that they could have a lifetime together.

Before he rearranged the cheese board and the wineglasses for a third time, the front door rang. Prem was surprised to find Kareena on the other side with her overnight bag and purse.

“I was going to have the front desk call you to let me up, but they said I was on a list.”

Prem nodded. “You’re preapproved. Is that okay?”

Her shoulders lifted and dropped with an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose so,” she said.

“Good,” he said, and leaned in for a quick peck before taking her bag and leading the way inside his apartment.

He watched her kick off her shoes and drop her purse on the kitchen island.

“Do you want some wine?” he asked. “I figured we can talk, and—”

“You know what? I have a better idea.”

He dropped her bag when she launched herself at him and affixed her mouth to his. His hands were full of hair and hips, and when her tongue stroked over his, he lost all ability to concentrate.

Homecoming.

He curled his fingers behind her neck, his stomach tightening when he felt her shudder. They were chest to chest, breath to breath, and when her arms wrapped around him, demanding that he give her everything he had, Prem kissed her with all the pent-up frustration he’d been holding on to since he dropped her off at the train station the Sunday before.

Her tongue slipped between his lips, and he groaned against the wet brush in his mouth. Heat pooled in his groin, and he grew thick with need for her. He sucked her tongue now, and then nipped her lip, demanding more.

He’d been away from this woman for a week. He missed her touch, her smell, her laugh. Every time he was out of his apartment, he swore he could smell sandalwood and vanilla, or see a flash of sweater vest. He didn’t know why she was so hungry for him right this instant, but if Kareena needed him, he’d ask questions later and provide.

Prem ran his hands underneath her sweater vest and squeezed her breast. She let out a throaty moan. He pulled back, just enough to speak, his lips still moving against hers. “What do you—”

“No,” she whispered, and pulled at his hair. “No talking.”

“Rina?”

“You know me, Prem,” she said. “I don’t need to tell you what I want.”

If love existed, this woman would have his heart, and he’d willingly take his scalpel to carve it out and give it to her.