Despite having a good amount of time before the wedding started, I didn’t risk taking too much time getting ready.
A thorough shower, hair washed and dried, shaved, and in my robe, Diya arrived armed with a box in one hand and a friend just outside the door talking on the phone.
“Oh, hello,” I said, ignoring the mischievous grin on my little sister’s face.
“How was last night?” She wagged her brows.
“Amazing…just like this morning.”
“Yayes! Hey, FYI, I’m going to crash at my place tonight, so ya know…” She double-clucked her tongue.
“I only have a couple of days left. I didn’t mean to ditch you! I’m such a horrible sister.”
“Shut up. I love you and we see each other throughout the year, but you haven’t had a man in a while and it’s Sunny. I will never cock-block my sis.”
“Well, we didn’t actually, ya know, the whole thing.”
“Why the hell not? What were you two doing all night, then?”
“Other things. We didn’t have protection…which is for the best.”
“You better get some. He leaves tomorrow, right?”
I nodded, ignoring the depressing sensation in my gut.
“We’ll have some time to chill afterward. To be clear, after you get some.”
“Mm-hm…What’s all this?” I asked as the other woman ended her call and walked inside.
“Remember my good friend, Leilani? She owns a hair salon that also specializes in special day hair and makeup.”
I waved off Diya and hugged Leilani. “I know this woman! How are you, girl?”
Kimo’s cousin laughed. “Good! So glad I got to see you. It’s been so busy, and I wanted to stop by sooner.”
Leilani always looked perfect, tall and curvy, wearing an off-the-shoulder pink top and skinny ankle pants. Her hair flowed over one shoulder in dark waves with bronze highlights. Her makeup was done professionally down to the eyelash extensions. If I recalled, because she owned her own beauty salon, she went in a little early every day and fixed her hair and makeup there. She’d once said she had to look the part so her customers could see that their stylist knew what she was doing.
I told her, “No worries! Not when you’re hustling and your business is booming! Glad to see you now, though. Are you here for a wedding?”
Leilani looked puzzled before Diya swooped in, ushering me to the counter. “She’s here to help you.”
“What? That’s too much effort. Diya, this isn’t my wedding. I barely know these people.”
“So you’re going to go looking like how you always look?”
“First of all, this isn’t a mainland wedding. It’s going to be relaxed if it’s partly outside. I think.” Despite the guys wearing suits. “And second, it’s not like I’m going to be in any of the pictures. I’m really and truly a last-minute guest because I happened to be here.”
Diya set down the box on the counter, plopped me down onto a barstool, and said, “But you might. The point is, doesn’t matter about knowing the couple. You got a man who’s going to be there.”
I grunted, “So I need to look fancy, is that it? He’s lucky I shaved.”
Leilani stifled a giggle as she opened her own box. The box to the left was full of hair tools from blow dryer to curler. The box on the right was full of makeup and brushes.
“What is my sister paying you? I’ll double it for your time,” I told Leilani.
She waved me off. “If I could get some pics of you for my business social?”
“Of course,” I said. Even if I’d never consider putting in this much effort for a stranger’s wedding, the idea of getting made up by a highly sought-after professional didn’t totally suck.
“Yes!” Diya said, jerking her fist down like she’d won a battle.
“Diya, don’t be that Indian. You should compensate her,” I said even as I reached for my purse.
“Don’t throw around stereotypes. Of course I paid! Don’t touch your wallet!”
I flinched. “Oh my god. Okay. Chill. Can I at least tip?”
“Fine.”
“What are you wearing?” Leilani asked.
I brought out the dress Diya had gifted me.
Leilani gasped.
“I know, right? It’s so pretty!”
“Can I add a purple orchid to your hair?”
“I don’t need an excuse to wear flowers in my hair. Of course!” I said, suddenly very into attending a wedding.
“I know exactly which color palette to use.”
Leilani worked her magic on these slightly frizzy waves so by the time she was done, my black, purple, and lavender hair had texture, definition, and oh so much shine. I was practically taking notes on a style that looked so easy to obtain but I knew there was no way I’d be able to replicate this on my own.
She then went to work on my face, when I reminded her, “You know that I haven’t mastered winged eyeliner, much less contouring.”
“I got you,” she replied and talked through every step, every layer, and the techniques she was using and why. Talk coding to me or research, and we would be fine. Talk makeup application, and I was totally lost. This was an art I’d never wrap my head around.
“Leilani!” I squealed when she’d finished, oohing over my reflection as Diya oohed alongside me. “I look like a freaking princess. Thank you!”
“Thank you for letting me play with your style!”
I fluttered my lashes. Oh, they were so long and thick and dark. And yes to every chance at wearing glitter, like the gold and pink shimmer on my eyelids. But the lipstick stole the entire show: a soft, floral-oil, pinkish-purple shade that matched the belt and the orchid in my hair.
“You look, and smell, like paradise,” Diya said.
“That’s so cheesy!”
“But true! Ugh, that man is going to take one look at you and tell the groom he needs to get out of there the second the wedding is over!”
My cheeks flushed. I could only dream for a man to see me that way. Sure, I’d had boyfriends and sexy encounters—and Sunny gave looks so scorching that my knees went weak—but none of them ever gave off the particular vibes of them falling to their knees with one look at me. Maybe that was an unobtainable fantasy, only happened in movies and in books, taught to us by poetry and impressed into our minds by raunchy TV scenes. But I’d seen the way Kimo looked at Diya like she was a fabled queen who’d mesmerized him with her presence. So I knew that kind of attraction existed. But I was also aware that it didn’t exist for most.
Which was one reason why I hadn’t settled down. I wanted that. Maybe it was too much to ask for, to be seen and treated like a queen, for everyone to recognize how my man adored me, but maybe it also didn’t seem like too much to ask for. Sweeping, epic.
Once I’d dressed, which was easy in a strapless outfit without messing up my hair and makeup, I checked the time to realize I was running late. My adrenaline kicked in. I wasn’t sure why; not as if I was part of the wedding or had even been cordially invited. But I wanted to see Sam and April’s wedding, or maybe just see Sunny in his suit again. And that was perhaps the only thing keeping my social anxiety at bay.
“Why are you smiling?” Diya asked in a singsong voice when I’d emerged from my room fully dressed with purse and sandals in hand.
“Huh? Oh, am I?”
Leilani whistled. Warmth tinged my neck. Already armed with her phone for pictures, she strutted around me. “Girl. This entire ensemble is gorgeous.”
“I know, I know…I don’t even look like me.”
I shrugged, twisting back and forth at the waist and feeling ever more like a princess. I knew why I didn’t get fancy more often—thinking about the time and skill involved was exhausting—but also, where would I go? To my desk in the corner of my living room?
Looking down at my dress, practically startled by how in my face my plump breasts were, I imagined wearing this dress to work meetings. Wouldn’t that be fun? Who, alongside myself, would be distracted by this massively effective, strapless push-up bra?
As if this were prom, both Leilani (for her salon’s social media) and Diya snapped pictures of me. My sister fiddled with her phone when the familiar FaceTime chime sounded.
“Hah, she’s right here,” Diya said, turning the screen to me.
I sighed, slouching as my parents gushed over me.
Mummie was misty-eyed and cooing, “So beautiful, beta! What a nice, sexy dress, huh? Get Sunny’s attention in a second.”
“Oh, lord…” I muttered.
“Easy to take off?”
“Mummie!” I cried, almost slapping a palm over my mouth but stopping short because I wasn’t going to ruin this meticulous makeup.
“No one is undressing my daughter!” Papa bellowed in the background. “Where’s my champal?”
Oh goodness. My father was ready to beat Sunny with his sandal.
“I’m joking. I’m joking!” she said to Papa, but then turned to me as Diya stepped closer, whispering with a wink, “He’s handsome, no? Don’t get too wild. Oh! Glitter eyes. And what beautiful lipstick and hair. Who did this?”
“You can’t believe I did this?” I asked, planting a hand on my hip as Diya lowered the camera and then brought it back up so Mummie got a full view of me.
Mummie said, “It looks like professional work.”
Leilani gave a thumbs-up when Diya directed the camera at her, announcing, “The master artist. Mummie, you remember Leilani? Kimo’s cousin who owns the fancy salon you went to?”
And then my mother proceeded to praise Leilani over her work. It was very good work, and for her to take my dull, boring self and turn me into a princess was no easy feat. But I was running late.
“I have to go! They’re going to start before I get there! Thanks for everything!” I called back from the front door, slipping into the sandals, and making a mental note to electronically send Leilani a tip or drop by her salon with a tip and treats.
“We won’t be here tonight!” Diya shouted after me.
The walk to the venue wasn’t terribly far, even in dressy sandals. Utilizing concrete sidewalks most of the way helped. With the heat and humidity, I slowed down and walked in the shade wherever possible, beneath towering palm trees and flowering trees alike. There was no reason to sweat and ruin any part of my look, and if I was late, then late I would be. No one would focus on me.
When I walked through the lobby, I paused, throwing my head back to enjoy the chilled air before getting a complimentary water and following the gorgeous sign displays leading to the wedding. I was welcomed by the scent of fresh flowers and lingering perfumes as I turned the corner and wandered into a semi-open room full of people chatting and laughing and taking pictures. Light music hummed in the background.
Oh. There were more people than I’d expected. A pall of heaviness swept down my body, gathering at my legs and turning them into stone, telling me they didn’t want to walk into this.
“Oh! Sorry!” Sejal had appeared from nowhere and nearly doused my dress with water.
I jumped back just in time. From the corner of my eye, staff members hurried to bring something to clean the floor. “I’m fine.”
She gave a nervous laugh, her eyes darting across my chest and down my dress. Sejal looked lovely in a pink and beige dress. Suddenly, I felt way overdone. “I have to get back to the bride. Again, so sorry. Um, beautiful dress.”
It took a second to realize what I’d done. I’d worn white to an American wedding. Crap. It wasn’t uncommon for guests at Indian weddings to wear their own wedding outfits again, much less whichever color…but what was the appropriate etiquette here? Maybe if Diya and Leilani hadn’t noticed, it wasn’t a big deal?
“Love the hair,” Sejal added.
“Hmm.”
And off she went.
I shook off the interaction, but couldn’t help wondering if she’d meant anything by her words, or had meant to get water on my dress.
Well, there was no turning back now. I mean, I could and only Sunny would notice. Otherwise, my absence wouldn’t make a difference. I willed my deadened legs to move, my brain to shut off, and I swallowed my nerves and went ahead. For some reason, I didn’t want to disappoint Sunny.
The archway stage was covered in red roses and white lilies, immediately capturing my eye. So breathtaking. Everything from the white bow chair coverings to the vases of flowers to the ribbons cutting the aisles off from the walkway to the stage set a romantic ambience. When the breeze snaked through, it sent the petals on the walkway scattering.
The walkway meant for the wedding party and the bride.
The walkway where I was standing, only a few steps away from disturbing it if I didn’t move to the side.
The walkway where I looked up from the floating pink and white petals and realized so many people were watching me. Whispering, smiling, wondering.
I sucked in a breath, forgetting that large breaths probably re-amped my already ample bosoms, and wrung my fingers together at my lap. So much attention, like they could tell I didn’t belong, that I was a walking lie literally wrapped in a pretty bow.
As I decided which side to sit on, not that it really mattered as long as I sat in the back, my eyes fluttered over onlookers, following them down a line until my gaze landed on the groomsmen.
My breath caught in my throat when Sunny appeared in the crowd. He was talking to Aamar and Sam and a couple of others when Aamar cocked his chin toward me. Sunny’s gaze followed. He was adjusting his tie and I’d have to redo it if he kept messing with it. The wind had blown some of his hair astray, but it looked intended and perfect. We hadn’t been separated for long, but I’d almost forgotten how handsome he was in a suit and in that tie, which I now desperately wanted to undo.
I shook the thought from my head. Absurdity! No, brain! Don’t go there! This was all an act, remember? To end very soon.
The cut of Sunny’s jaw tightened. His eyes, even from this distance, bore into mine. That little wrinkle in between his brows appeared, as if he were scowling, but his look was as far from a scowl as it could be. A look of intensity, of longing, of undiluted need.
My lungs burned right along with my skin.
Sunny looked at me the way Kimo looked at Diya, but with a level of yearning that probably shouldn’t be witnessed in public. Was I reading too much into this? He was probably trying to send me a telepathic signal to get off the walkway. Yet I couldn’t look away. We seemed to be tethered and neither of us was able to break off.
I was still acutely aware of those staring at me. Part of me wanted to back away and get out of this room of strangers engrossed in this lie we’d been spinning. Part of me wanted to go straight to Sunny and…well, I wasn’t sure what.
Kiss him. You want to kiss him.
The truth bubbled up the back of my thoughts, the declaration I’d been trying to stave off and yet was so achingly aware of.
I wanted Sunny. Badly. Unequivocally. Devastatingly.
This man was going to destroy me.