The Man Ban

by Nicola Marsh

  This time, he had to keep it real.

  Standing on her doorstep, wearing his oldest faded jeans and a T-shirt, clutching a bunch of flowers, was low-key. He’d thought the flowers could be trite until he remembered her expressing her love for them in New Zealand. Besides, it wouldn’t matter what he presented her with; it was his words that counted.

  He just hoped she’d hear him out.

  Sweat pooled in his armpits and he flapped his arms, trying to cool down. He hadn’t been this nervous since his final year exams at med school, and even then, he’d known deep down he had it covered.

  This time, he had no such confidence.

  After rolling his neck side to side to loosen the kinks, he took a deep breath, blew it out, and raised his hand to knock. Before he could, the door swung open. Revealing a disheveled, tired Harper with fire in her eyes. She wore black yoga pants and a hoodie, her hair snagged in a low ponytail and no makeup, fatigue accentuating the patches under her eyes. He hated that he’d caused her angst. He loved that she hadn’t slammed the door in his face.

  “I’m not sure why you’re here, but doing bird impersonations on my porch is a surefire way to get the neighbors calling the cops.”

  Great, she’d witnessed his nerves. Then again, why did he care? He was ready to prostrate himself in front of her if she’d give him a second chance.

  “You saw that?”

  “Yeah. Hopefully if you flap hard enough you’ll fly away and leave me the hell alone.”

  Nothing about this situation was remotely funny, but to hear her signature sass . . . he wanted to fling the flowers aside and bundle her into his arms.

  “I’m nervous. Can’t you give a guy a break?”

  “When it’s you, no.”

  He hadn’t expected this to be easy. Hell, he’d fully intended on groveling for as long as it took. But he wished he’d glimpse something other than anger in her eyes.

  “These are for you.”

  He held out the flowers, exhaling a little sigh of relief when she took them.

  “How did you know orange gerberas are my favorite?”

  “I heard you telling that assistant chef when we were working that job in Auckland.”

  Her right eyebrow arched. “You remembered something like that?”

  “I remember everything about you,” he said, clearing his throat when an unexpected wave of regret washed over him. “Can I come in so we can talk?”

  “The flowers won’t soften me up, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she muttered, but at least she opened the door wider so he could step inside. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks.” He followed her, trying his best not to stare at her ass and failing, remembering the feel of it in his hands, the sounds she made when he hoisted her up against the wall . . .

  She spun around, and he didn’t drag his gaze away quick enough, earning a scowl.

  “If you expect me to apologize for appreciating you, I won’t.”

  “I gave up expecting anything from you around the time I discovered I was merely an adjunct in your warped plan to impress your grandmother.” She snapped her fingers. “Maybe you could call me Harpercillin? An effective medication in the prevention of post-op complications—”

  “I didn’t come here to argue.”

  He had to interject before he laughed. Her snark got to him every time, and he wouldn’t be doing himself any favors if he actually laughed when this was serious business.

  “Then what did you come here for?”

  She propped against the sink, her hands behind her, which only served to thrust her breasts forward, and he struggled to keep his gaze fixed on her face. Was she deliberately taunting him with what he was missing out on? If so, she wasn’t playing fair. But her gaze was guileless.

  “I came here to apologize.”

  “So you’re sorry? Big deal.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t change anything. You still ran when you saw this.”

  She pointed at the patches on her chin, around her eyes. “These repulsed you, but you just hid it better than Colin.”

  “What the fuck . . .” He took a step toward her but stopped, knowing touching her at this point wouldn’t be conducive to talking. He’d either earn a slap for his troubles when he had no right to lay a finger on her anymore, or she’d lose her mind like he currently was and they’d end up having makeup sex without making up first.

  “You think I’m like that shallow son of a bitch?”

  It burned that she thought so little of him, but maybe she was hurting as much as he was and had tried to deflect.

  “Let’s see. Are you shallow?” She tapped her lip, pretending to think. “You’ve dated half the female population in Melbourne, not more than once. You dress like a male model most of the time. You manscape. And according to your longest-running girlfriend before me, you never get attached to anyone.” She snapped her fingers. “So yeah, shallow.”

  “When did you meet Elaine?”

  “For a job, but that’s irrelevant. I showed you the real me; the next day we’re over.”

  “But you broke it off.”

  “Because you couldn’t refute why you proposed, and you certainly couldn’t say you loved me . . . and maybe I don’t believe you dumped me for the vitiligo and that’s just my own insecurities at play, but . . .” She glanced away, biting down on her bottom lip, and he saw the moment her bravery gave way to hurt. “You used me.”

  This was it. Manny had to lay it all on the line.

  “I did.”

  She hadn’t expected him to admit it, because her gaze flew back to his, accusatory and resentful.

  “Deep down I knew what I was doing, but I was so shit-scared of losing Izzy I jumped before contemplating what it would do to you, to us, if you found out. I should’ve trusted you. Maybe if I’d explained the situation, you might’ve gone along with a fake engagement to fool Izzy into fighting to recover. Instead, I hurt you in the worst possible way . . .”

  He shook his head; it did little to clear it. “My grandmother is sorry, by the way, and she wants to apologize to you personally, but all that stuff she said to you yesterday? She wanted to test me.”

  “Test you?”

  “Apparently, she knew I was smitten when she saw me looking at you at Nishi and Arun’s wedding. Then I kept mentioning you, and we were together in New Zealand, and after we came home I had this look . . . she knew you were the one I’d set my heart on, but she wanted to see if I truly loved you.”

  “You and your gran are nuts.” She made circles at her temple. “Off the charts, cray-cray nutjobs.”

  This time he couldn’t stop a chuckle escaping. “You’re probably right, but she meant well. It’s just been the two of us for the last fifteen years, and she’s overprotective.”

  Harper merely rolled her eyes.

  “She was right about one thing though. You gave me your heart, and I didn’t do you the same courtesy. I knew I loved you, but I couldn’t admit it, particularly to myself, because I’m so caught up in self-preservation . . .”

  He’d never told anyone the rest, but he had to flay himself open or risk losing her forever.

  “My mom died because of me. I was a cocky med student, newly graduated, who thought I knew everything. I insisted she start exercising; she did and ended up having a heart attack right in front of me. I froze initially, and by the time I got my shit together and started CPR, it was too late. She died in my arms . . . from then on I’ve shut myself off from people. You’re right. I have superficial relationships and never get attached to any of my dates because with commitment comes the risk of loss, and I wasn’t prepared to take that chance.”

  His voice had turned croaky with emotion, and he swallowed, twice, before continuing. “Until you. I can’t explain it, because it’s not logical, but you swept into my life, brandishi
ng that damn whipped cream, and I haven’t been the same since.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and he didn’t know whether to be wary or relieved, but he took another chance and crossed the kitchen to stand in front of her.

  “I love you, Harper. I may not have said it before, but if you’ll give us another chance I’ll make sure I say it every single day. And we don’t have to be engaged. We can date for however long it takes until I can convince you I’m not some emotionally stunted idiot and I am good husband material.”

  “How many times a day will you say it?” she deadpanned, but the glint of cheek in her tear-filled gaze told him he’d done it.

  She believed him, believed in him, but he needed to hear her say it before he could fully celebrate.

  “I love you. There, I’ve said it twice in under thirty seconds, and if we multiply that by the hours in a day, I can easily manage five thousand seven hundred and sixty ‘I love you’s’ in twenty-four hours.”

  “Stop being such a show-off, smart-ass,” she said, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.

  “I assume your insults mean you love me back?”

  “Idiot,” she muttered, before flinging herself at him, burying her face in his chest, and sniffling loudly.

  Manny grinned like the idiot he was and held her tight, that familiar sense of peace, of rightness, washing over him. This was fate, destiny, or whatever other crap Izzy’s horoscope predicted for him on a daily basis.

  “And for the record, I love you too, but you already knew that,” she said, lifting her head to eyeball him. “I love you, you big, infuriating, gorgeous man. So multiply that.”

  “I will, after you prove how much you love me.”

  Her eyes widened in faux innocence. “Any ideas how I can do that?”

  “I’ll show you,” he said, a second before he kissed her.

  EPILOGUE

  “It seems rather fitting that our last date mirrors our first,” Manny said, sliding his arms around Harper from behind. “Have you ever seen such chaos?”

  Harper leaned back against her fiancé and surveyed the dance floor at the Springvale Town Hall, where roughly four hundred people wearing colorful saris and kurtas were currently engaged in some kind of flash mob, Bollywood-style.

  “This is the sixth Indian dance I’ve been to in the last six months, so I’m used to the festivities by now.”

  “Yeah, but this is the first one you haven’t been working.” He snuggled her, something she’d never get tired of. “Who knew you’d become the queen of styling Indian food?”

  “It was inevitable, because I like eating it so much.”

  “We are talking about Indian food, right?” he murmured in her ear, and she elbowed him, earning a loud oomph.

  “Stop being so naughty in public.” She spun in the circle of his arms. “Besides, you’re Anglo-Indian, so does that mean I only get to eat half of you?”

  “Now who’s being naughty?”

  They laughed, something they’d been doing a lot of since they’d got back together seven months ago, and engaged a month later. Turns out, when it’s right, you don’t wait.

  “Uh-oh, my grandmother is beckoning us over.”

  “Is it too late to hide?”

  “You’re the one who insists we eat with her twice a week, so don’t blame me if you’re her new favorite person.”

  “We’ve got a lot in common,” she said, brushing a kiss across his lips. “We both love you.”

  “Women with exquisite taste.” He snagged her hand. “Come on, let’s go see Izzy.”

  Harper knew how much it meant to Manny to have his grandmother here tonight. It was the first function of this size she’d felt well enough to attend. While her heart valves were now functioning, she hadn’t fully recovered from the surgery, and her frailty terrified Manny.

  He’d confided so much to Harper since they’d reunited, and it had been a no-brainer when he’d proposed again, while the two of them were snuggled on the sofa at her place, drinking masala chai. There hadn’t been a kiwi fruit in sight, and she’d been glad. She didn’t need grand gestures. She just needed him.

  Izzy beamed as they joined her and patted a vacant seat either side of her. “Sit, you two, quickly. I see three of the aunties eyeing me off, and I don’t need another person to ask me how I am or can they drop off a pot of chicken curry.”

  “Everyone cares about you, Izzy.” Manny pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s nice.”

  “There’s nothing nice about those aunties.” Izzy shuddered. “I have nightmares about them smothering me with their saris or force-feeding me their ghee-laden laddoos.”

  “Good to see you sticking to the dietician’s meal plans,” Manny said, with a wink over Izzy’s head that had Harper stifling a laugh.

  The dietician had nothing do with Izzy’s new strict eating routine and everything to do with Harper revealing they wanted to start having kids sooner rather than later. Turns out the prospect of being a great-grandmother was a more powerful motivator than seeing Manny married or any empty threats from a dragon dietician.

  “And how’s my favorite granddaughter-to-be?” Izzy clasped Harper’s hand between hers, a gesture she’d done many times over the months since she’d apologized for her behavior the night of the first engagement party.

  Harper had never been excessively touchy-feely, but Izzy had welcomed her into her heart—the least she could do was hold her hand every now and then.

  “I’m fine, though please tell your grandson I prefer aloo chops as one of the mains at our wedding rather than roast beef.”

  If it was Harper’s choice, she’d have the Anglo-Indian patties— spicy beef mince wrapped in mashed potato then fried—for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She’d grown addicted to them and had learned the authentic way to make them from Izzy.

  “You don’t play fair,” Manny grumbled. “Enlisting the help of Izzy so you two can gang up on me.”

  “Get used to it, buddy,” Harper said, smiling when Izzy leaned into her in a show of solidarity. “Sisters before misters.”

  Izzy bumped her. “I heard that on one of the soap operas I watch. Are you hooked on them too?”

  Harper didn’t have the heart to tell Izzy she’d rather clean her bath than watch the soapies Izzy was glued to all day, so she settled for a smile.

  Thankfully, she saw Samira and Pia waving her over, facilitating a graceful escape. “I’ll be back soon. Just popping over to say hello to the girls.”

  “Kushi tells me those two are trouble,” Izzy said, but her fond smile belied her words. “If they’ve taken you under their wings, watch out.”

  “If anyone’s a bad influence around here it’s your grandson,” Harper said, laughing at Manny’s outrage. “And on that note, I’ll let him defend himself.”

  Harper hitched up her sari and strode toward Samira and Pia. They’d all agreed to wear saris once she’d told them attending this function was like a commemoration for her and Manny, a coming-full-circle kind of thing.

  Amazing, that her sari slipping had been the catalyst for their tumultuous relationship, which thankfully had developed into one of bliss now.

  She neared the women, both wearing matching smug smiles as they waved her over.

  “What’s going on with you two?”

  “We’ve got news,” Samira said, grabbing her arm and tugging her close. Pia poked her, and Samira amended, “Okay, Pia has some news.”

  “What is it?”

  Pia’s smile could’ve lit up the hall better than the disco ball spinning in the center high above the dancers. “Dev and I have taken a big step and put our names down for several adoption agencies in India.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.” Harper flung her arms around Pia and hugged her tight, knowing how much this meant to her.

  Once Pia
and Dev had reconciled, it had taken them a while to get to this point, and she couldn’t be happier.

  “So have you and Manny set a date yet?”

  “Not yet, but we will, soon.”

  A little white lie because the two of them had already decided to elope, with her folks and Izzy as their witnesses. Harper may have once had the idealistic dream of the big white dress and two-hundred-strong reception, but she’d changed. All she needed was Manny and her family. The rest didn’t matter. They’d throw a party for their friends when it was done, a low-key celebration with a much happier ending than the last party they hosted seven months ago.

  “Don’t look now, but the doctor is in the house and he’s headed this way.” Samira smirked and nudged Harper. “He’s such a goof-off.”

  “Yeah, but he’s my goof-off.” Harper raised her hand. “Later, girls. I have a date with one hot doc.”

  “Yuck,” Pia and Samira said in unison, before high-fiving and laughing so loudly Manny shook his head.

  “Are you two celebrating the fact Harper has landed such an amazing guy?”

  “I think it went more along the lines of you’re a goof-off, but whatever floats your boat,” Samira said, with a grin.

  “Ladies, ladies, please. We all know you’re jealous.” He gestured at himself. “Harper has this and you don’t. Deal with it.”

  “Still the same Manny,” Samira said, rolling her eyes. “Thinks he’s gorgeous when in reality he’s a—”

  “On that note, I’m taking my man away before you can insult him further.” Harper slid her hand into his. “See you later, girls.”

  Samira and Pia waved as Manny whispered in her ear, “I have a surprise for you.”

  “If it’s the same surprise I saw twice before we left home, can it wait till later?”

  He chuckled and swooped in for a kiss. “Did you know I find your sass as attractive as the rest of you?”

  “Good, because I plan on putting you in your place for a long time to come.”