One thing was for certain. The man could make a woman weak with his mouth.
She couldn’t tell Bobbi or Veera about it yet. Not until she had more information. Otherwise, they would be hounding her for weeks to find out what was going on.
“Kareena, you do more than carry grudges,” Bobbi continued, oblivious to Kareena’s train of thought. “You have a list and keep receipts. True Taurus energy through and through. But Prem is no longer on your hate list, is he?”
Kareena shook her head. “We called a truce, and then I beat him in a pani puri–eating competition.” It was kind of hard to stay mad at someone who made her laugh when she knew she was being exasperating, and had the guts to kiss her in an Indian restaurant. Every aunty and uncle in the place was watching.
Bobbi sipped her champagne. “This is the guy who thinks love is an illusion. The one who believes that love marriages aren’t sustainable because they’re built on emotion. He’s also the same guy who needs something from you, because to Dr. Dil, relationships are transactional. Don’t forget that.”
“Bobbi, I don’t need your help analyzing my relationship with Prem. I need your help figuring out why I’m not getting any other matches online. Is it because I’m in Edison? What if I change my location to something like Boston for a few weeks? Do you think I’ll have better luck up north? I always liked a man in flannel.”
“I think men are men wherever you go. You’re looking for a needle in a haystack, honey. Welcome back to the world of heterosexual dating. Any word from the aunties?”
Kareena shook her head. “I think they’re so set on matching me with Dr. Dil that they aren’t being super aggressive with their search.”
“They picked a good one,” Bobbi said. “Despite the argument between you two, there is definitely chemistry there.” She fanned herself with her free hand.
“Thanks for the help,” Kareena muttered. “I have a little over three months left here, and I do not need you to agree with the aunties.”
“Hey, I’m planning your sister’s wedding and engagement party at a discount,” Bobbi replied. “I have no time to help. Be nice to me.”
“Ugh, don’t talk to me about this stupid engagement party.” A Labor Day weekend event that was the definitive end to her chance of finding her perfect man. Her jeevansathi. And once her time was finished, her father was going to sell the house. He’d already brought an agent to come out and assess the property, and Bindu had sent out invites to two hundred people.
“How are things at home?” Bobbi asked, as if reading Kareena’s mind.
“Bindu comes home every day with her massive binder, and another reason why she and Loken are fighting about the wedding, and the guest list,” Kareena said. “Do you think they’d be willing to push the engagement party back?”
“I doubt that,” Bindu said, picking her nails. “What does Prem think about it?”
There was something about the way Bobbi said it that had Kareena twisting in her seat. “Oh no,” Kareena said while she tugged Bobbi’s purple ponytail. “Is this the real reason why you don’t want to help? Because you think Prem is a-a match? You can get out of your auntie-brain and back into your Bobbi brain.”
Bobbi swirled her champagne flute. “All I’m saying is that a woman is a fool if she can’t resist a man. Your lack of resistance is showing, Kareena Mann. The question is, are you willing to be the fool?”
Kareena wanted to argue, wanted to prove to Bobbi that nothing but a cordial platonic friendship was forming between them. But that text message. And that kiss.
Even her Taylor Swift nighttime playlist couldn’t put her to sleep. Her usual insomnia was now infinitely worse.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Bobbi.”
“And I think you’re treading in dangerous territory, friend.”
The sound of a door chime rang across the small Indian bridal boutique, and Kareena turned to see Loken enter.
She’d only met him a handful of times, but he’d always been quiet, sweet, and attentive to Bindu. He had a chiseled jaw that made him a stone-cut, marble-faced beauty. His black hair was gelled away from his face, and he wore a three-piece suit every day, just like Kareena preferred a sweater vest every day.
He carried two small bouquets of summer flowers in his hands.
“Hey, it’s the groom!” Bobbi cheered. She held up her champagne flute. “Don’t Italian Gujaratis have a thing where you’re not supposed to see the wedding dress before the big day?”