The Bollywood Bride (21 page)

23

I
f Ria had to identify one day as the happiest day of her life, this would be it. From the spotless sunshine to the buzz of happiness in the air to the presence of every person who meant anything to her, it was flawless.

After working all morning with Vikram and Nikhil on decorating the tent and the backyard, they laid out a leisurely lunch of sandwiches on the deck. For the first time ever, Vijay regaled them with his version of how he and Uma had met and fallen in love. How she had pulled the ground from beneath his feet and then turned up her nose at him, and how he had manipulated his way into her heart. Ria had no doubt Uma had had no chance at all once Vijay Kaka set his sights on her.

They had heard the same story from Uma several times, but to hear Vijay tell it was completely different, so much more vivid and logical, even Nikhil and Vikram listened with rapt attention and without interrupting with their wisecracks. Then Vijay did something he didn’t do too often—he offered his son advice. “The way the joke goes is that the secret to a happy marriage is for a man to wake up every morning and tell his wife he’s sorry,” he said, and gave Uma a look that made her cheeks color. “But the real secret is to wake up every morning and thank her. Because the happiness a good woman brings to your life is incomparable. No one else can make you happy the way she can. Not your job, not your friends, not even your children can give you what a good marriage gives you. A good marriage is all you need to make it all worthwhile. And
she
gives you that. The day you realize this is the day you no longer have to worry about a thing.”

“Vijay, what’s wrong with you today? Embarrassing me this way. That’s too much in front of the children. You’re incorrigible.” Uma tried to look reproachful, but her eyes welled up and leaked onto her cheeks and ruined the effect.

Ria couldn’t stop the tears either. They spilled from her eyes even as she smiled. Vikram threaded his fingers through hers under the table, making circles across her knuckles with his thumb. “This means you’re never growing out of the blushing and the tears either, doesn’t it?” he whispered close to her ear.

Later she cried some more. Cleansing, freeing tears of uncontainable pleasure as Vikram rose to the challenge and joined her in the shower. His soap-slick fingers both kneading tension away and stroking tension into her body with equal skill as she struggled to keep from crying out. Being in his arms again and doing something so incredibly erotic while hiding from a house full of people drove everything but him from her mind.

When she was eighteen their lovemaking had been all need and enthusiasm, urgent and self-conscious, safe in the knowledge that they had all the time in the world to get it right. Now, it was intense and consuming, a desperate giving and gathering and committing to memory.

When she came down the stairs for the dinner party, dressed in a soft beige empire-waist
kurta
that cascaded and swirled down to her ankles over turquoise tights, dark kohl outlining her eyes, her hair rolled loosely over her shoulder, she felt somehow naked, exposed, and vulnerable.

The entire evening pulsed with an intimate, simmering aura—a heady mix of afterburn and foreplay rolled into one drugging, intoxicating mix. Vikram’s eyes never left her. No matter whom he was dancing with, no matter whom he was talking to, no matter what he was doing, all of him stayed focused on her, and she felt it with every inch of her being. She felt his eyes on her even as every one of the hundred-odd guests came up to her, wanting to dance with her, take pictures, and strike up conversations.

For the first time in ten years Ria couldn’t get herself to slip into star mode. It had always come to her with such ease. But today she just couldn’t get the split to happen. The transition jarred too much. Her film-star smile wouldn’t form, because she was already smiling. The cool icy grace wouldn’t wrap around her, because the warmth of her joy wouldn’t let it stick. And no matter how much she reached for her distant politeness, laughter kept bubbling from her and spilling out.

When she wasn’t shaking her hips with a bunch of teenagers who insisted on pulling her to the dance floor every time a song from one of her films played, she was showing the aunties how to do a crazy step she had done in some film. When she wasn’t posing for a picture, she was answering questions about the latest industry gossip. Everyone wanted to know what was really going on in Bollywood, and she was their periscope.

Are Ranjit and Dolly really dating? Do the Kochar brothers really arrive drunk at parties? Are Vishal and Neha really married and hiding it? Is everyone really having plastic surgery? Whose boobs are real? Whose nose is fake? Has she had any work done? Ria gave them all her best canned answers, enjoying it more than she ever had, especially her favorite one, “Oh, all of me is fake!” Only this time it didn’t feel like the truth, especially not when Vikram looked at her like it made him angry to hear her say it. There was nothing fake about the fierce jolt of pride that pierced though her in that moment.

There was also nothing remotely fake about what his hands did to her when he caught her in the hallway, and rubbed her shoulders because he thought she might be tired. Or when he brought her a plate of food, because she had been surrounded by a mob all evening and hadn’t had a chance to eat. Or what he was doing now. He leaned into her, took the dessert tray she was carrying, and whispered words into her ear that made gooseflesh dot a trail all the way from her neck to the dents at the base of her spine. “I’ll race you to the top.” His smile flashed every shade of knowing. And then he was gone.

 

Ria crested the hill. On one side of her was the brightly lit house with its brightly lit people, on the other side the gurgling river, dark as pitch except for the moonlight floating over it like a silver veil. No one had seen her leave, but she turned around and checked once more just to be sure. Her heart beat with excitement so intense, she had to keep one hand pressed against it as she half walked, half ran to the dark shadow of the oak.

“Viky?” It was barely a whisper.

The leaves rustled above her in response.

Her gaze searched the darkness. A breeze whispered behind her ear. She turned only the slightest bit. Still nothing. And then one tiny twinkling light at a time, the tree glimmered to life—a galaxy exploding into the heavens before her eyes. Wonder drizzled over her like the first monsoon shower. She stepped closer to the tree and stared up into the disappearing darkness.

He had lit up their tree.

Thank God she hadn’t worn a sari or a
ghaghra.
Gathering the flaring
kurta
that swirled around her, she wrapped and tucked it around her waist. The tights stretching snugly around her legs were perfect for this. She kicked off her heels, rolled her scarf around her neck a few times, and grabbed the lowest branch. It came to her with the ease of a trusted pet. She pulled herself up and planted her feet on the solidity of their bridge. It bounced with more than just her own weight.

“Can you teach me to climb like that?” he said from behind her ear, circling her waist and pulling her against him. She twisted in his arms, bracketed his smiling face in her hands, and kissed him. Stars twinkled inside and around her.

“It’s beautiful, Viky,” she said, then kissed him again, and again, unable to stop. “How on earth did you get power so far from the house?”

Another knowing smile. He pulled away from her, jumped effortlessly to the ground, and held out his arms. She jumped into them and slid down his body. He gave her another hurried kiss and dragged her around the tree to a clearing ten feet away. Sitting on the grass was a metal box, suspended between pivoting frames mounted on a stand. It looked like something out of a science fiction film. A grid of silver flaps floated like tiny levers on every surface. He flicked one flap with his finger and it rotated around itself.

She squatted next to him and touched the cable that ran from the box to the light strings wrapped around the tree. “It’s a battery cell,” she said in wonder, making his eyes brighten.

“A light-seeking high efficiency solar cell.” He flicked the flap again, making it rotate in a different direction.

She looked up at the glowing oak, still mesmerized by what he had done. “How long did it take to gather enough power for that?”

He smiled a huge proud smile and kissed her nose. “Just hours. I set it out this morning when you and Uma were bullying the tent guys.” He stood, taking her with him. “I’ve been tinkering with this prototype for years.” His arms tightened around her. “But I wasn’t ready to try it out yet. I kept avoiding it and I didn’t know why.”

Ria pressed her face into his neck, her heart suddenly too heavy to withstand his gaze. He twisted his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back, forcing her to look at him. “Now I know why. This is huge for me, Ria. I needed it to mean something.” His eyes sparkled brighter than the tree, brighter than the starlit sky, and how could she not kiss him again?

He smiled against her mouth, a sensation that was etched into her soul, and ground his hips against her. “My battery pack’s been waiting for you.”

Laughter bubbled from her heart. “Oh my, Viky,” she said, pressing into him. “You’re right, your battery pack
is
huge.”

They were both laughing when he reached for the elastic of her tights.

 

“I think there’s another patent in the stars for our Vic,” the aunties declared, sitting in a circle of chairs under the lit-up tent. The tree twinkled obligingly in the distance. It was the subject of much gushing. Uma pointed it out to every guest for the rest of the evening along with the tent lights, and she made Vikram explain the battery pack and the pulley to anyone who’d listen.

“I should have made a video,” he said to Ria, but every time Uma showed him off he obligingly explained it all again.

Most of the guests had left now, and only the family and the closest friends remained. Vikram, Nikhil, and a few of the other “kids” carried the fire pit from the deck into the tent and started a fire. The loud thumping music was exchanged for some soft old melodies, and everyone sang along whenever a popular number came on.

Nikhil pulled Jen into his lap to some loud and lewd heckling and he wrapped his arms around her. A sweet old dance number started playing. Vikram pulled Anu Auntie up from the chair next to Ria and danced with her. She giggled and blushed and everyone cheered. When the music ended, Vikram casually deposited Anu in his own chair and sauntered over to the seat next to Ria.

“So sneaky,” Ria whispered to him, her heart bursting in her chest.

“Why, thank you!” He raised his glass to her and gave her the most private of smiles, letting his arm fall close to hers so the backs of their hands touched. Anyone watching them would have thought they were just two people sitting next to each other. But Ria’s entire existence converged at the point where they touched.

Priya Auntie’s grandson, Rahul, the little boy who had saved Vikram from Uma the day he had carried her, climbed on Vikram’s lap. Vikram pulled him against his chest, and within minutes his tiny body went limp with sleep.

Ria’s fingers tangled in her lap. Vikram looked at her over the boy’s head, so at home with a child on his lap, so happy. She shifted away from him in her chair and he raised his brows. “What’s the matter?”

She smiled, shook her head, and looked away. How could she ever tell him she couldn’t have children, wouldn’t have them? Especially when he looked like that with a child in his arms. He shifted closer and pressed his leg into hers, and she forgot everything but the joy of his touch and this infinitesimal, stolen, precious dream she was allowing herself. This glimpse into
them.
Into Ria and Viky and what might’ve been. If she thought about anything else, it would be over. And she wanted it for just a bit longer.

A little past midnight, Uma stood and called an end to the night. “Time to wrap things up. Tomorrow’s the big day. We have to be up by six and at the hotel by nine.”

Ria was going to be staying at Jen’s apartment tonight so she could help her get dressed in the morning. One of Nikhil’s friends was going to drive them there. For the tenth time that evening Nikhil asked why they couldn’t just stay in the house. Jen and Uma looked at him like they were too tired to argue. Jen leaned over and gave him a kiss before getting off his lap and starting her round of good-byes. Only Ria noticed the look on Vikram’s face.

“There are at least twenty people staying in the house tonight, Viky. It’s not like we can even see each other.” But she felt as distraught as he looked.

He had come up to her room to help her with her bags, and he was following her around the room as she collected a few last minute things.

“Plus, haven’t you—”

“No, I haven’t had enough.” He pushed her against the wall. “I haven’t even begun.” He tipped her chin up with his fingers and kissed her as if he was never going to see her again.

“It’s not like I want to go,” she said when he released her lips.

“Then don’t.” He rested his forehead against hers.

“But I want to stay with Jen tonight, and Nikhil will need you tomorrow morning. Oh God, Viky, Nikhil’s getting married! Can you believe that?”

That made him smile. He brushed her cheek with his thumb and gave her a look so filled with all the things he thought she was, it was a miracle her already-overflowing heart didn’t explode.

This time his kiss was a gentle nudge at the edge of her mouth. “Just promise me something,” he said. “Promise you won’t think about anything else tonight. Just us and how good this feels. Nothing more, okay?”

She pressed her cheek into his lips. There was no space in her mind for thoughts right now. Later there would be too much to think about, but right now, for once in her life, she had no desire to think about anything except this man, who was the love of her life in ways she could never explain to anyone, and that look in his eyes that made her feel like the person she wanted so badly to be.