Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(85)

Contorting her body, she pulled out the stuck piece of paper. She sat on the kitchen floor, then carefully unfolded it.

“Oh my god,” Kareena whispered, letting out a heartfelt breath. “Mama.”

Her mother’s neat handwriting had long sweeping curves that crowded together. On the top of the note, she’d written:

10-year plan for kitchen renovation.

The list was extensive, starting with taking down the wall between the kitchen and living room. That was exactly what Kareena had wanted to do for years, but her father wouldn’t let her. She wondered if the plans were too close to what Kareena’s mother wanted.

The second task was to reface the cabinets, which Kareena had done a few years ago.

The third had Kareena chuckling.

Replace the appliances when my cheap-ass husband finally comes to his senses.

Kareena looked around and nodded. “He’s still a cheap ass,” she muttered.

Number four had to do with the fixtures, and number five was . . .

Number five.

Kareena’s chest tightened, and her throat began to burn.

Fill the kitchen, and the rest of the house, with love. The love I share with my husband and my children.

Love.

The house had been filled with love at one time. Now, there was some love that remained out of obligation. But if Kareena was able to keep her home, and Prem was sincere about making what they had between them a real thing, then the only love remaining would be hers.

Was it enough?

“I wish you were here, Mama,” she whispered to the note. “Then you could tell me if I was doing the right thing.”

With a sniffle, Kareena got up off the floor, tucked the piece of paper in her back pocket, grabbed the wok, and started to make halwa for her sister.





Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kareena




Prem: Ready for tonight?

Kareena: Yeah.

Prem: Rina, honey, are you sure?

Kareena: I mean, this is good for both of us, right? This is my only chance to get my mom’s house.

Prem: And because we’ll be happy. Together.

Kareena: Right.

Prem: Let’s talk when I get there. I’ll see you soon.





Kareena walked into the ballroom at the Marriott off Route 1 wearing the payal and her mother’s earrings. Bobbi and Veera helped her pick out a black-and-silver lehenga from one of her sister’s favorite shops in downtown Edison.

She’d gotten dressed by herself since her father had to run errands before the event, and her grandmother was with Bindu at the hotel helping her get ready.

Even though it felt like people forgot about her, the short bout of solitude was nice. The feeling of nausea in her gut grew stronger the closer she got to seeing Prem again. They didn’t practice or talk at all about what they were going to say, how they were going to say it, and to whom they’d spill the news of their relationship first.

“This is going to be a disaster,” she whispered.

Kareena strode through the double doors marked with a heart-shaped sign with her sister’s and Loken’s name on it, and took in the beautiful work that Bobbi and her team had done with the hall. Flowers hung from tall crystal vases, and the chairs were draped in cream coverings with gold tassels.

She had to hand it to Bobbi. The woman knew how to make parties happen, even if they were for a two-hundred-person engagement celebration planned in four months.

“Kareena!”

Kareena turned to face her grandmother’s voice. Dadi wore a deep-emerald-green sari with silver embroidery draped across the front and through her pleats. She wove through the table settings with cream-colored plates and red, orange, and yellow napkins. “Dadi, I thought you were supposed to be upstairs with Bindu?”

“I came to tell you that you have to stand by the door to greet those coming in,” Dadi said, adjusting the front of her sari. “Loken’s family should be here first, and we want our family to be the first faces they see. Now let me look at you.”

She stepped back and tilted her head back and forth in the bobblehead yes gesture she often used. “Hahn,” she said, with satisfaction in her tone, and reached out to touch the gray-to-black balayage skirt covered in a smattering of silver crystals. “Is your chunni pinned?”

Kareena touched the pleated shawl she’d draped over one shoulder with heavy embroidered gems along the trim. “No, but I’ll find Bobbi and ask her to do it for me.”

“Yes, otherwise it’ll come off and you’ll look like a stage dancer. What will Prem think?”

“Ah, I knew it was coming. The warning to not remove the sheer shawl draped on one shoulder otherwise I’d look like a Bollywood prostitute. I think Prem would enjoy that actually.”

Her grandmother shook her head.

“Don’t be such a besharam,” she said. “Shameless.” She reached up and touched Kareena’s cheeks. “The contacts suit you, though.”

“I knew you’d yell at me about pictures,” Kareena muttered. The contacts were already dry, and every time she tried to push her glasses up her nose, she ended up poking herself in the face.

“Dadi, I’m going to go get a drink and then find Bobbi.” Kareena needed liquid courage if she was going to do this thing with Prem.