It was strange seeing them carrying out what was obviously a routine for them. Jana was closer to Imani than anyone in the world, and Imani was clearly as close to her father as she was to her mother. But Jana was hardly close to Anil. As Jana watched him do something mundane and domestic with their daughter, it was difficult to feel detached from him.
Anil was such a doting father. He was so gentle with Imani. He loved her as much as Jana did and seeing that love in front of her made a warm glow spread through Jana, which was disconcerting.
She was supposed to be getting over this man on this trip. Seeing him daily certainly wasn’t helping with that.
Thankfully, Anil didn’t linger or expect Jana to talk to him after Imani was tucked into bed. Which was best. Being alone with him…in a hotel…was bringing back feelings Jana didn’t want to revisit.
***
The sangeet party, which would include the puro and pithi ceremonies, was the traditional pre-wedding event in their culture. Jana had been to many, and they were usually exuberant, boisterous affairs with music, dancing, and lots of food. She dreaded them.
But Jana did concede that the bride looked utterly breathtaking tonight. For the marriage ceremony the next day, Kamila and the bridesmaids would be wearing simple Western dresses, so tonight the dress code was full-on Indian glam. Kamila was wearing an elaborate yellow-and-magenta lehenga covered with gold embroidery and finished with heavy gold jewelry. Her hair was in cascading curls draped to one side, and her makeup was done with shimmering jewel tones and a deep magenta lipstick. She looked better than any of the brides in the Bollywood movies she and Rohan showed at their weekly movie nights. Rohan also looked amazing in his fitted charcoal sherwani. Jana and the rest of the Bridal Brigade were in deep magenta georgette saris with open-backed blouses and wide gold embroidery on the hem. And the groomsmen looked dapper in their gray kurta sets.
But in Jana’s opinion, Imani really stole the show. Her purple-and-yellow lehenga was like a miniature version of Kamila’s, and her curly hair was down instead of in her normal braids. Jana was convinced that there was nothing cuter in Africa than her daughter and couldn’t stop taking pictures of her while the guests were finding their way into the banquet hall.
“Mommy, you come be in the picture!”
“I’ll take it,” someone behind Jana said. She turned and saw it was Marc Ainsworth—one of Rohan’s groomsmen. Jana handed him her phone and stood with Imani.
“I can’t get both of your outfits…Maybe pick her up?” Marc suggested.
Jana shook her head. There were dozens of hidden pins holding her sari together, and picking up a squirmy four-year-old could mean either a pin in her hip or a wardrobe malfunction with the whole sari ending up puddled on the floor.
“I got her,” Anil said, hoisting Imani into his arms. Of course, Imani grinned as if Mufasa himself had lifted her. “Daddy!”
Anil kissed Imani’s forehead and stood next to Jana, posing for a picture. Jana wanted to step away. This felt way too much like a family portrait for her taste. But there was no better way to show everyone she was fine with Anil, so she needed to grin and bear it. But still. His arm that was holding Imani brushed against Jana, making her skin pebble. She stood rigidly as Marc motioned them to get even closer. Anil had pushed up the sleeves of his kurta, a devastatingly handsome yet casual look that made Jana’s knees weaken. She decided it would be best if she avoided more contact with that solid, bare forearm, so she didn’t move.
“Smile!” Marc said.
Janadidsmile—or at least she faked it, trying not to think about the fact that this would be the first picture in existence of just the three of them together. They didn’t even have a picture together from the hospital—not that Anil was in the room for Imani’s birth, but Jana did let him in once the baby was all cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket. He must have taken about five hundred pictures of his new daughter that day, but none of Jana. That had been one of Jana’s rules. They were co-parents—not a family. No matter what Anil seemed to think.
But on this trip, theywerea family. Or at least Jana was pretending they were.
The moment Marc was done, Jana took two large steps away from Anil. Imani was gleefully showing Anil the mehndi on her arm and pointing out all the cartoon characters Namrata had drawn on her.
“There’s Peppa Pig, and here’s Dora, and look, Daddy! Here’s Minnie Mouse, like my name! I can show it to Minnie Mouse when I go to Disney.”
Just like the night before, the two of them were focused only on each other. Anil was fully engrossed in his daughter’s description of her mehndi. A lot of adults didn’t really know how to communicate with four-year-olds. Even parents. They weren’t quite toddlers, but not quite kids yet, either. One needed to come down to their level but not treat them like babies. Anil was so good at it.
Because of course he was. He was great at talking to anyone. But it was a weird, unsettled feeling seeing the person who sat in the villain or asshole category in Jana’s mind being so patient with her daughter.
Whatever. Right now, she needed to get Imani and Anil separated because Dr. Lopez and Farzana Aunty were either already in this banquet hall or would be soon. And Jana assumed Farzana Aunty would love to meet Jana’s friendly “ex-husband” and talk to him about their aspirational “divorce.” This whole situation was a ridiculous balancing act. She wanted Dr. Lopez to see her as a vibrant, fun person, and she wanted everyone to think she was over Anil and the past. But she also needed to keep Farzana Aunty away from Anil so he wouldn’t find out that everyone thought they were divorced and embarrass her mother. This vacation was far from relaxing.
Shelina came to the rescue. “There you are, Imani. Come—I need the photographer to get a picture of you with Adam—he looks so cute in his baby kurta!” Shelina beamed at Jana. “Wouldn’t it be cute if one day we could show this picture attheirwedding? We should make them get married.”
Jana made a face. Why would anyone imagine the wedding of four-year-olds?
“We’re notmakingImani get married to anyone,” Anil informed Shelina. “If she wants to get married at all, that is.”
He looked very irritated at Shelina’s comment. More than Jana, actually. Jana watched him curiously—irritatedwas probably too weak a word here. His hands were flexed, and his face had reddened.
“Mommy didn’t get married, and Mommy is smart, so I’m not getting married,” Imani announced. “Or I’m going to marry Thomas the Train.”
Thank goodness Mom and the aunties hadn’t heard that. Also, thank goodness for adorable little girls breaking tension. Anil laughed and rubbed Imani’s shoulder. “I don’t think you can marry a train, kiddo.”
After Imani left with Shelina, Jana started to walk away when Anil put his hand on her arm for a half second. Maybe longer. It certainly felt like longer. Jana’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment when his hand came in contact with her bare skin.
He gestured to Imani. “She looks so grown-up.”
