Kashi clapped her hands with some vigor as she bustled around the table, changing the seating arrangements with the authority of a five-star general. “Here, Bharat, sit here, next to Anjali. Esha, why don’t you sit on her other side?”
With a rapidity that made Anjali’s head spin and left her breathless, guests shuffled around the table. Jon was placed out of her reach, on the other side of the table, between her father and her mother.
Jon’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw uncertainty creep into his eyes. Doubt etched into his frown, Anjali’s breaths came shallow and fast, as she curled her cold fingers into fists to control the trembling. Her life was falling apart on her, and she did not know what to do to stop it.
Partway through the meal, Jon concluded that the person who had exchanged the most words with him was the waiter. On his right, Anjali’s mother turned her back on him to speak to Bharat’s mother, and on his left, Anjali’s father and Bharat’s father engaged in discussion of new surgical techniques. Across the table, Bharat and Anjali chatted in quiet tones, not throughout dinner, but when they did, Bharat drew smiles and soft laughter from her.
What the hell? Why hadn’t Anjali told him that she had invited family friends to dinner, or that the social setup was so cliquish as to shut him out entirely?
Unexpectedly, Anjali’s mother, Kashi, leaned close to him. “They look perfect together, don’t they?” Her gaze remained fixed on Anjali and Bharat. “His mother and I always knew they were meant for each other. The matchmaker made the arrangements when Anjali was born.”
Perfect. Meant for each other.
Matchmaker?
Jon’s gaze shuttled between Anjali and Bharat. Were they engaged?
No, Anjali would have told me.
A splinter of fear lodged in his chest, radiating icy cold through him.
Wouldn’t she?
Kashi continued speaking, her voice so casual she might have been describing the weather. “I wanted Anjali to get married to Bharat after she completed her A-Levels, but my husband said it would be better for her to finish her studies. I told him Bharat was a good man, and if Anjali waited, another woman would snatch him up.” She waggled her head at Anjali who was deep in conversation with Bharat and did not notice her mother. “After Anjali graduated from college, I said the same thing—it is time for her to marry, but again, her father said to let her finish her studies. Well, she’s finished now. Once she has her medical degree, it’s time to set aside all her silly ambitions and settle down. She’s lucky Bharat waited all these years for her. He could have found another woman easily.” Her smile broadened until she was practically preening. “Do you know that he has two degrees from Harvard? He has a chemical engineering degree and an MD. He’s the youngest cardiac surgeon at Mayo Clinic, and he’s already handled some of the most challenging surgeries.”
“That’s…amazing.” Jon managed to get the word out through gritted teeth. And it was amazing, but he didn’t need another man’s accomplishments tossed in his face—especially when that man was apparently engaged to his girlfriend. Why had Anjali never spoken of Bharat?
Well, duh. If you’re two-timing your fiancé, would you tell the man you’re two-timing him with?
He stared at Anjali. What else hadn’t she told him?
She looked up, their eyes meeting across the table.
For an instant, he had the odd impression of a trapped creature within a gilded cage. Anjali was beautiful, intelligent, talented, and apparently promised in an arranged marriage.
Something brushed against his foot. Anjali. She had reached out across the gap that separated them. The pounding of his heart was like the flutter of broken-winged doves, too stupid to know that it could no longer fly. Did she know how badly he needed this connection with her?
Did she know what a fool she had made of him?
He should have moved his feet away, but when he looked into her eyes, he knew she was lost as he. He ground his teeth together so hard he could feel the pressure pulse in the side of his skull. The muscles at the base of his neck knotted into tight balls of tension.
Jon extended his feet beneath the table, his ankles brushing against Anjali. They remained there all through dinner, and he had never been so glad to see a meal end. He reached for the bill that the waiter brought around, but Anjali’s father intercepted it with an absentminded smile.
Kashi leaned forward in her seat and smiled across the table at Bharat and Anjali. “I’m tired from the flight, and I’m going back to the hotel to rest, but you two young people should spend some time together. Perhaps go for a walk near the Harbor? There’s so much to catch up on.”
Bharat turned to Anjali. His warm smile flashed white, straight teeth. “Sounds like a great idea. Shall we?”
Anjali’s glance flicked across the table to Jon, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could utter a word, Kashi spoke again. “Wonderful, wonderful!” She clasped her hands together like a delighted teenager and flipped her fingers at Anjali in a dismissive motion. “No point waiting for all the old folks to finish up here. Why don’t you two go ahead?”
Old folks? What did that make him? Jon’s gaze locked on Anjali’s. Come on. Say something.
Bharat rose to his feet, all silent, fluid grace, and grasped the back of Anjali’s chair.
A muscle ticked in Jon’s jaw. Don’t go. Do something. Say something. Stick up for us.
She swallowed hard. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, but he could not tell if she was holding onto it to keep from standing or holding onto it for support to stand.
Indecision flickered for a moment in Anjali’s dark eyes, before she dropped her gaze and stood, slowly drawing her light pashmina wrap around her shoulders.
Shock drained the warmth from Jon’s face and hands. What the hell?
Chapter 4
The cool breeze sweeping through wide expanse of Baltimore’s Inner Harbor should have provided a welcome change from the stifled atmosphere at the restaurant, but no amount of deep breathing could chisel through the hard knot in the middle of her chest. Anjali strolled slowly along the brick promenade, content with silence. It meant, at least, there was no way to screw up further by saying anything. Although, she reflected bitterly, “saying stuff” wasn’t the problem. In her case, it was not saying anything that had led to the pickle she was in.
“You’re quiet this evening,” Bharat broke the silence.
Anjali made a vague sound of agreement. Resentment layered over her throbbing headache. How would you know? You don’t know anything about me.
“I hope our showing up wasn’t too much of a surprise. Your parents mentioned it to mine about a week ago, and the arrangements were made at the last minute. Until last night, I wasn’t certain if I would be able to switch out my shifts to make it down here.”
What a ridiculous amount of effort expended for her. She knew she ought to feel grateful that people had cared enough to attend her graduation, but it was hard to feel anything other than flustered when faced with the mess of unacknowledged relationships that anchored her life and acknowledged relationships that should not have existed.
What on Earth can I possibly say to Jon? Assuming he’ll even listen—
“What are your immediate plans after graduation?” Bharat asked.
Not get married. Don’t propose. Please don’t propose. Anjali drew a deep breath and was pleased at the steadiness of her tone. “I thought I’d take a week or two off before starting work.”
Bharat stopped walking. He stared at her as if she had grown another head.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head, and a sudden smile flashed across his face. “I’d gotten the wrong impression.”
“Of what?”
“Somehow, I’d heard that you weren’t planning to work; that you were thinking of getting married immediately and starting a family.”
Her jaw dropped. “Who did you hear that from?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “My mother. Through your mother, I imagine.”
“Why would my mother…” Anjali sucked in a deep breath, but her racing pulse refused to settle. “Why would she…” Damn it. Why did the words get stuck in her throat even when her mother wasn’t physically around, figuratively sucking the air out of the room?
Bharat shrugged again. “Who knows. Mothers. Always thinking they know best.” His tone was as dismissive as Anjali’s father’s tone had become over the years. “I assume you’ve applied for residencies. Is Mayo Clinic one of them?”
For a horrid instant, “no” hovered on her lips. Why had she applied to Mayo? Now that she had, it would surely look as if she had been planning on moving out there to join Bharat.
No more lies. No more evasion. Her heart pounded, and the truth tangled on her tongue. Okay, let’s just start with no more lies. No more evasion requires more courage than I have right now. She swallowed hard. “Yes, I did.”
“They made you an offer, of course.” Bharat smiled. “Splendid. When do you start?”
Anjali almost said, “I don’t know yet.” That statement was the perfect stalling tactic—completely true, yet omitting details on every single front. No, just tell the bloody truth! “I haven’t accepted their offer yet.”
Bharat looked at her as if she had added a third head to the second she had apparently grown. “Why not?”
“I’m waiting to hear from all the hospitals I’ve applied to before making a decision.”
He frowned, apparently not quite understanding the need to wait when the decision should have been obvious. “Where else did you apply?”
“Cleveland Clinic, Johns Hopkins, and Westchester.”
“Westchester? The backup, huh?”
Irritation ticked a muscle in her cheek. “It has a great reputation—”
“Regionally, perhaps. Not nationally, and certainly not internationally. It’s not in the same class as the other places you’ve applied to.” Bharat continued walking. Apparently, he had no doubt as to what her choice would be. “Where are you going on your vacation?”
“I haven’t decided.” That, at least, was 100 percent true.
“Maybe we could go together.”
It was her turn to stop and look at him as if he had grown, if not an extra head, then at least a tentacle or an antenna on his head.
Bharat chuckled. “We haven’t spent much time together, and we’re practically engaged—”
No, we’re not! She turned her face away.
“—and I think it would be important for us to get to know each other. Again.” He stood close to her, although they did not touch. “Don’t you want to know how I’ve been doing?”
“How have you been doing?” she parroted.
“Busy, although I should have done a better job of staying in touch.”
Why would you? I don’t mean any more to you than you do to me. Despair clawed at her. What am I even doing here when I could be losing…could have lost…Jon?
Anjali stepped out of the elevator doors before they had fully opened. She walked down the corridor toward her apartment, her attention focused on her smartphone as she tapped the redial button. Why wasn’t Jon picking up?
“Oh!” She jerked to a stop at the sight of feet, and looked up to meet Jon’s hard gaze. Relief gave way to irritation. She waved her phone at him. “I was calling you.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been calling for the past ten minutes. Why didn’t you pick up? I’ve been going crazy thinking something might have happened to you.”
“You would know if you’d chosen to come with me instead of Bharat.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest. “I…” What could she say? She had no excuse.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“What? Dinner?”
“Dinner. The romantic walk after.”
Anjali let loose a despairing laugh. If only Jon knew how awkward that walk had been. Bharat, who had been protective as a child, was patronizing as an adult—assuming that he, like her mother, knew what was best for her. The questions she had asked about his life sparked peripheral interest, such as she might feel for a distant acquaintance.
Jon shoved his hands into his pockets. He was still in the suit he had worn to dinner. His slouch against the wall screamed with defensiveness. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you’re engaged.” A muscle ticked in his cheek.
“I’m not!” Her hand tightened around the phone.
“Really?” His blue eyes flashed. “Maybe you should mention it to your mom, because after you two left, she was making wedding dress shopping arrangements with Bharat’s mom.”
“Beyond the fact that my mother will not be shopping for my dress regardless of who I marry, I…I’m not engaged to Bharat.”
“Everyone else at the table thinks you are.” Jon shook his head. “It’s why you’ve been so weird and distant, especially lately. It’s why you won’t have sex with me.” The corner of his lip curled up in a snarl. “You think it’ll betray your fiancé? I’ve got news for you. You already have.”
“He is not my fiancé!”
Jon jolted, and a stunned silence followed her scream.
“Who the hell are you?” He broke the quiet tension, his voice pitched low. “I didn’t even know who you were at dinner. It was like some kind of alien pod person instead of you. We’re standing here arguing and shouting, but you let your family push you around without a single objection.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “At least you had the sense to come home alone.”
She scowled at him. “I choose who I go home with, or to.”
“Not the impression I got at dinner, O Spineless One.”
“You have no idea what it’s like—”
“To have a strong-willed mother? I do. My mother, on her worst days, is a domineering pain-in-the-ass, but it’s a reflection of her, not of me. I don’t let her get away with it. But you? You let your mother trample all over you. She trampled over everyone at that table.”
“You too!”
“Yes, she did, and you know what? Never again.” He shook his head. “With your family, I looked to you for cues on how to behave. Bad call on my part.” His eyes narrowed. “Six years, Ange. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were engaged?”
“Because I’m not.” Her voice cracked. “It’s just the way things are done.”
“Really? Because that’s bullshit.”
“In India—”
“This isn’t about India. This is about you not telling me!”
“I did!” Her chest ached. “Kind of. A long time ago.”
Jon stared at her, his eyes narrowed. “When?”
“When you asked me out on our first date.”
“Six years ago? You expect me to remember—” The anger in his face slacked. “Oh…”
“You do remember.” Her shoulders slumped.
He sighed and gestured at her door. His voice was quiet, although she could hear the anger simmering beneath. “Can we not argue in the corridor?”
She unlocked her apartment door and stepped aside to let him in before locking the door behind them. “You remember, don’t you?”
“You said it like it was a joke. You were flirting, pretending to warn me off by saying you’d been promised to an older man.”
“Bharat is nine years older than me.”
“You forgot to mention that he’s brilliant, rich, and handsome.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Of course I’m jealous. Damn it, Ange. We’re in a relationship. I love you. I thought you loved me.”
“I do!”
“Then how do you think I feel finding out that some rich, successful cardiac surgeon believes it’s his damned right to marry you, that I invested six years of my life in nothing?”
“It’s not nothing.” Her voice broke, and she swiped the tears away from her eyes. I’m not nothing.
“My relationship with you is obviously nothing. You can’t tell me it meant something when you never mentioned a word of me to your family; before today, they didn’t even know I existed. Your relationship with Bharat is obviously nothing. You tossed it aside like a joke. After that first time, you never spoke of it again.”
“Because there was nothing to say. I told you it didn’t mean anything. Something that my mother said to his mother when I was born doesn’t mean I’m bound by it.”
“Yes, it does,” Jon said quietly. “Because you are bound by what your mother says. You proved it at dinner.” He dragged his fingers through his hair; the ends spiked up. “What does this mean for us?”
Chapter 5
She hadn’t answered him.
Jon grunted as he shifted in the bed and thumped his pillow to find a more comfortable position. What had he expected? Protestations of a forever love? Of her undying affection?
Heck, yeah. Exactly what I feel for her. No more, no less. How can it possibly be asking for too much?
When she did not have even that much to give.
His heart tightened in his chest. His question had been such a simple one. “What does this mean for us?”
Anjali had stared wordlessly at him. He had waited until he could no longer bear the silence, and then he had retreated to his hotel. Did she not know the answer, or did she just not want to give him the answer?
He hated the fact that he could not tell the difference. Heck, he had probably never been able to distinguish between ignorance and reluctance. Six years. His fingers clenched into the pillow. She had lied to him for six years.
He could walk away, return to Westchester—
A sliver of light peeked through the curtains. His eyes burned from a lousy night’s sleep, but he had made it through the night.
He had, in fact, made it through six years of loving Anjali. He could make it through graduation weekend.
Jilted: A Love Letters Novel Page 3
