There’s something in her tone that suggests I won’t like what she’s going to say next. I contemplate hanging up and blaming the cell reception. “What?” I ask cautiously.
“Can you talk to Chachi about calling off Operation: Marry off Priya? She keeps showing me pictures of men and asking me if you’d like them.”
“Better you than me.” I throw her under the bus. Under the parade of buses coming down the road, driven by Rani Gupta.
“This is a formal HR complaint to my supervisor. Deal with it.”
“I don’t wanna,” I whine.
“Or just get married. Speaking of...how’s Gavin?”
“How in the holy name of Michelangelo did you get from marriage to Gavin?”
“Answer the question,” she yells.
I jerk my phone away from my ear. “We may have, just possibly, sort of, kissed a little,” I say in a rush, hoping she’ll be so distracted by the phrasing that she doesn’t take in what I said.
“What?” she shrieks. Good thing the phone is already away from my ear. “How was it? Did you guys have sex? Do you want a destination wedding?”
“It was great, damn it. No sex. I’m not getting married.” It’s easier to just answer her questions than explain why the questions are inherently bad. I’ve learned that over time.
The phone picks up a voice in the background but not enough for me to find out who it is. Then Sonia comes back and says, “I’ve got to go. Ajay is trying to foist off more of his work on me. I want more details later.” I hear a voice protesting and then the call is cut off.
I look at the clock and contemplate going back to bed for a few more hours but I remind myself I’m not actually on vacation. Instead, I get ready and pack a bag of work.
Time to do some ’sploring and get inspired by my beautiful surroundings.
I don’t run into anyone on my way, so people must have stayed up late after dinner. They, unlike me, are on a real vacation, so it might take some time for everyone to wake up.
My terrible sense of direction doesn’t stop me from stumbling into the library, which I immediately claim as my own space. The room has floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves, with one wall left shelfless for windows looking out over the nature of the estate and the current gray cloudy weather, which makes snuggling in the library seem like a perfect plan.
Despite my best intentions, as soon as I spread out on the soft leather couch with my work on my lap and the calming view in front of me, I fall asleep again.
“Riya, wake up.” A voice intrudes on my pleasant dream. I’m running an auction of all the most famous pieces in my art history book, and rich people keep buying them and donating them to museums.
Just when Mindy Kaling is buying a medieval book of hours by a rare female scribe to donate to the Smithsonian, the voice is trying to get me to stop the sale. But I can get a few more hundred thousand out of this auction!
“Riya, come on. I’m bored.” It’s a shame that the voice is so nice, but also so annoying at the same time.
Bye, Mindy.
I wake up fully and have a mini heart attack when I see Gavin’s face right in front of mine.
“Ahh,” I yell, jumping up from the couch and almost scattering all the documents I was using for blankets.
“I’ve got it.” Gavin jumps into action, stopping my iPad from crashing down and collecting paperwork that scattered.
I sit up, and as surreptitiously as I can, straighten my hair and shirt at the same time.
Papers collected, Gavin deposits them in my lap and then lifts my feet to make himself comfortable on the other end of the couch.
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. Not a verbal one, at any rate. I do glare at him like he stole the last slice of cheesecake.
I’m still groggy, so my brain doesn’t have the space to be embarrassed that we kissed last night and annoyed that he woke me up at the same time. So it chooses to be annoyed, because of priorities.
“I need some help with a show I’m planning.” He starts rubbing my feet. That’s not bad, actually.
