Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(89)

Kareena took the small black bag from Bobbi, spun on her heels, and ran toward a Subaru crossover vehicle at the corner of the lot.

“Wait!” Prem called out, ready to run after her, when a viselike grip on his arm pulled him to a stop.

“Not so fast there, Dr. Dick,” Bobbi said. “You know the magic words you need to say to see her again.”

What the hell did this woman think he was going to do? Sit around while one of the most important people in his life got away? “She’s upset.”

“And you’re not going to help her. Trust me when I say that you should let her have her room before you grovel.”

“She ruined everything!” Bindu shrieked, interrupting their conversation.

Kareena’s grandmother and father appeared to be trying to console Bindu, but nothing looked like it was working.

“Looks like Bridezilla is blaming her sister again. Excuse me, I have to fix this.”

“I’m in the mood to fight,” Prem muttered. He was sick and tired of this pipsqueak running rampant on Kareena’s family. If he had to take care of her first before going after Kareena, he’d do that. “Bobbi, move.”

“Oh boy.”

Prem stormed over to where Bindu was yelling at her fiancé for not intervening.

When Bindu turned to face Prem, her expression became murderous. “You. You’re to blame for this, too!”

“Nope, you’re the only one to blame, honey. You’re the one who recorded the video, who tried to monetize off your sister’s pain, and then guilt-tripped her into helping with your engagement party for the last four months.”

The entire crowd hushed.

“What, you think because you’re spoiled, you can treat people like garbage? Your sister is twice as beautiful as you’ll ever be, and she isn’t a bitch.”

There were gasps and oohs from the crowd. Someone muttered, “That’s the truth.”

Bindu propped her fists on her hips. Her all-sequined outfit from bralette to lehenga skirt glittered. “If she’s so great, why aren’t you with her? Oh, that’s right, because she tossed you out on your ass.”

“I’m going to ask her to forgive me,” Prem said. “And honestly you should, too. She’s always tried to take care of you, and it’s easy to use her for a punching bag because you know she’s always there, but one day she may not be.”

“Prem, beta, let it go,” Dadi said, stepping between them. Her Hindi was soft and apologetic. “Bindu has every right to be upset. You know how Kareena is. She just can’t keep her mouth closed. A trait from her mother.”

“A trait I’m thankful for,” Prem interjected. He threw up his hands. Were these people really that dense? “Do you still honestly believe that Kareena should always stay quiet to keep the peace, even though she’s telling the truth? One of the best things about Kareena is that she doesn’t let people get away with anything! Other than you three, apparently.”

He whirled to face Kareena’s father. “I don’t get why you treat your daughter like shit, either. Seriously? You decide to sell the house and talk to your youngest brat and your mom, but leave out the one sensible person in your family?”

Kareena’s father turned thunderous. His accent thickened as if he’d just come from India the day before instead of thirty-three years ago. “Get out! You bloody rascal, get out of this place!” He pointed a finger at the parking lot. “You can go to hell!”

Bindu started crying at that moment, and Loken looked like he had no idea what to do. The guy was a well-groomed idiot with absolutely no personality.

“Mommy?” he whispered.

Before Prem could go off on the spineless fool, Veera tugged on his sleeve.

“Time to go,” she said. “Seriously, Kareena’s father is Punjabi. He will punch you if you egg him on.”

Prem shrugged her off. “One last thing,” he said. He turned to Loken. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, because when Kareena and I get married—”

Before Prem could finish the sentence, Kareena’s father roared. He charged forward, and the older man swung a fist and connected with Prem’s face.





Chapter Thirty-One

Kareena




Prem: Kareena, I am so sorry I hurt you. You’re it for me. You KNOW that.

Kareena: That’s not enough. I need to know you love me.

Prem: I don’t want to lie to you.

Kareena: Sometimes I wish you did. Please don’t text me right now. I need some time.





Thank god for her friends, Kareena thought. She sipped her venti hot chocolate in the empty shed as she looked up at her mother’s house. It was awash in a soft glow from the outside lights.

Some of her tension was finally slipping away, but that could be because her best friends helped her take off all her jewelry and remove the hairpins while she sobbed in their arms. Then they waited for her while she showered and tossed the contacts, and took her to a late-night Starbucks.

Her eyes were still gritty from crying, but Kareena felt better now that she was wearing one of Prem’s old sweatshirts she’d taken the last time she was over his place, paired with leggings.

It had to be one or two in the morning. She didn’t know. She left her phone in the house.