Chapter Two
Lilavati
Istomp up the stairs to the restaurant my obnoxious cousin has chosen for her bridal shower breakfast. Who the hell does a breakfast bridal shower? Emily, that’s who.
My day started out craptastic, and it’s only got worse. I mean, what kind of idiot stands around in a car park with their car door wide open? Naked.
Clearly, he was in the wrong. And when I call him tomorrow, I’ll tell him so. If he thinks my insurance is going to pay to fix his broken-down old banger of a car, he’s sadly mistaken.
And now I have to deal with my mother. And grandmother. I can’t even anaesthetise with too much champagne because I have to drive home. In a broken car.
“Darling. You’re here at last,” my mother exclaims as though I’m hours, and not just thirty—okay, maybe forty-five—minutes late. She scans my bold—alright, deliberately provocative outfit. “I thought you were going to wear the pretty floral dress I bought you last week?”
A dress I hate, but her intentions were good, if a little self-serving. She knows I rarely get time to shop, and she didn’t want me wearing somethinginappropriate, which is how she describes my style, such that it is. She was probably frightened I’d turn up in my scrubs.
Mum tugs at the hem of my halter top and smooths down the neckline. “It’s much more feminine. But heaven forbid you listen to me.” Mum doesn’t draw breath for me to comment as she pulls me into the crowd towards where my grandmother and Aunt Caroline—Emily’s mother—are sitting. I whip an entirely necessary mimosa from the tray of a passing server as we go.
The room is loud with the chatter of nearly a hundred women, most of whom are not bothering to listen to anyone else because they’re too busy trying to be heard themselves.
I stand out in this room like a broken toe. Almost every head is blonde, some natural, some care of the very best and most expensive salons in Sydney. There are a couple of redheads, and of course, my grandmother is a dignified grey. But mine is the only head of truly dark hair. Courtesy of my never-to-be-discussed father. Or so I have to assume.
On occasions like these, I feel even more like a cuckoo in the nest than usual. Which is why my mother is fussing over what I’m wearing. It should’ve been a nice, soft floral. A garden party dress. Or—God forbid—a nice twinset. So I don’t stand out any more than I already do. But it doesn’t matter what I wear, I don’t fit in. And I don’t really want to.
Which wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Except that I’ll soon be turning thirty, and I’m not married. And now my twenty-four-year-old cousin is getting married. Leaving me the only unmarried granddaughter. Cue the glaring spotlight on me. Or maybe it’s a target.
Never mind that I have a challenging and successful career and own a nice home. I don’t have a husband. And that, in the eyes of my mother and grandmother, makes me a failure.
As usual, Aunt Caroline doesn’t acknowledge me, other than to give me the stink eye, but Grandie gets right down to business.
“Look at Emily. She’s so happy to be getting married, and Julian is such a nice boy. They’ll be having babies in no time,” Grandie says with a deep sigh as I kiss her cheek. Her chest puffs up like a pigeon’s as she looks at my cousin, surrounded by her giggling, vacuous friends.
So many comebacks dance on the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back. It will only get me into trouble. All I need to do is hold my tongue for a couple of hours. Even I can manage that. Usually.
“Why were you so late, sweetheart?” Mum asks, tucking my hair behind my ear and straightening my earrings. She’s only ever this bad in the company of her control-freak husband or my grandmother, who has never forgiven her for coming home from London pregnant. Their judgey attitudes bring out the worst in her. And today she looks particularly rattled.
“I had to work last night. There was an emergency. I slept through the alarm.” I wasn’t helped by the idiot in the car park. If his door hadn’t been open, I wouldn’t have hit it. Even as I think this, I have to acknowledge that I wasn’t entirely fair to Naked Guy. I mean Ant. He was right. Unmoving vehicle versus moving vehicle is a no-brainer for who’s at fault.
“Oh, dear. You work too hard.” Mum frowns.
“Yes. No wonder you haven’t got a husband with those bags under your eyes,” Grandie says with a tsk. Ouch. I thought I did a good job of covering the shadows under my eyes.
“If a couple of dark circles can scare a man off, he’s not the man for me.” I can’t help it. I know I shouldn’t, but jeez.
“Or perhaps it’s that sharp tongue scaring them off. You’ll never meet a nice boy with an attitude like that,” my grandmother says archly. Mum looks miserable and fidgets with her necklace before she takes a big gulp of her mimosa, which, if it’s anything like mine, is more juice than champagne, sadly.
“But I have the solution.” Grandie lifts a hand heavy with diamonds to fluff her short silver hair. “Emily’s fiancé has an older brother. He’s a computer engineer. Very successful. Single. And from such a nice family. I’ve spoken with their mother, and she thinks you’d be a good match. You’ll meet him at the wedding. He’s in the bridal party.” My grandmother looks very pleased with her scheming.
“What makes you think I don’t have a date?” I don’t, of course. But she doesn’t know that.
Aunt Caroline makes a sound of disbelief and rolls her eyes. My grandmother snorts.
“And who would that be, hmm? A divorced doctor having a midlife crisis and looking for a young fling? A male nurse? An orderly? When would you have met a nice, suitable boy when you work all the time?”
I hate that she’s right. Not that there’s anything wrong with male nurses or orderlies, except in Grandie’s snobby eyes. But she’s right that I don’t have time to meet anyone. Suitable or otherwise.
I’m saved from having to answer by Emily, who has a sixth sense for when a conversation is not about her and looks up to see me with Mum and Grandie. She wastes no time in coming over.
“Lili!” she screeches, throwing her arms wide as though she’s thrilled to see me, which I know for a fact she’s not. “I’m so glad you could make it. Grandie told me you couldn’t find a date for the wedding. But don’t worry, we’re going to set you up with Julian’s brother, Miles. He’s dateless too. He’s a bit boring, buta nerd like you, so you’ll get along great.” I love the way my family can slip those knives in, right between my ribs, without any medical training whatsoever.
