The chai was cold and the waffles a no-show.
Annika’s mother, the ever-elegant Sonia Bashir, was too busy planning the engagement party to cook; she was rushing around the house talking to caterers, florists and party planners, and making sure all the most important people in Fairview, Texas would be there. “Billionaire” seemed to be her new favorite word and calmed her and incentivized her when the frenzy got too crazy, like the promise of candy to a five-year-old when her chores were completed.
Annika spied the woman from the corner of her eye as she heated up a bowl of oatmeal from a packet found in the dark recesses of the pantry next to some boxed macaroni and cheese, no doubt hidden by her father who liked to eat processed American food when his wife wasn’t around.
“Mom, I thought you were going to cook breakfast this morning—that’s why I stayed over.” After that massive nightmare, Annika’s stomach was in knots with that queasy feeling of dread, like the one you get driving home after a weekend away at the beach and then remembering you might have left the iron on.
Could her happiness suddenly go up into flames?
Her mother shrugged and continued speaking into the phone pressed to her ear, a large gold earring clinking against glass. “We need a quartet with a cello; four violins won’t work! Her fiancé is used to the finest of everything—he’ll notice it’s missing! He’ll think we’re Texas hillbillies!” Annika’s frazzled mother turned to her. “Oh god, Annika, what have you done to me! Planning two engagement parties for two different fiancés in the space of two months? My doctor put me on blood pressure medication!”
Annika hit the power button causing the machine to utter its familiar hum and waited for her oatmeal to turn from powdery dusk chunks into something palatable. “Just remember that he’s a billionaire and that should make it all better.”
Her mother repressed a small smile, but the twinkle in her eye betrayed her. Her daughter may have caused a massive shit-storm in the community—and she’ll never be invited to Mrs. Raman’s monthly ladies tea at the golf club again—but she certainly traded up enough to make up for it. The Bashirs were modestly wealthy and Annika’s ex-fiancé slightly more so, but Kiran Patil came from wealth and power only few in the world ever bumped elbows with. There was going to be a damn cello at the party if her mother had to kill someone for it.
The microwave beeped and Annika pulled out her lumpy breakfast just as her younger brother, Rasheed—or “Raz” as he liked to be called now—and her uncle shuffled in.
Uncle Abe—short for Abheeram—was born fifteen years before her father and was more like a grandfather to her than an uncle. He was getting older and forgetting things; and since he didn’t have his own family, he had been staying at the family house for the past few months.
Annika smiled at the old man. He wasn’t that much of a nuisance since he didn’t usually know what was going on. He poured some lukewarm tea from her mother’s blue and white floral teapot while Raz eyed her oatmeal.
“Anymore of that? I’ve got to get to the hospital and I’m starving,” he asked, his formerly pudgy frame now long, lean and muscled from daily trips to the gym. Weekly appointments with a speech therapist had taken care of his lisp, and the best dermatologist in Dallas worked miracles on his acne. He’d just started his residency at the local hospital, so there was a possibility he might even make some bank one day as a doctor. If he wasn’t so annoying, Annika might admit he could be a good catch for someone. In fact, he was, dare she think it…handsome?
“Mom was supposed to cook waffles. Sorry, this was the last one from Dad’s secret stash.”
Raz shrugged and grabbed a protein bar. “When’s the good doctor coming in? I want to pick his brain about making it through residency. It’s killing me.”
Not soon enough, Annika quickly thought to herself. As much as this was home, it felt strangely different. Her home now was with Kiran and being here only confirmed it. “He’s busy with plans for the new orphanage and running the hospital. He’ll fly in the day of the engagement party,” she explained, sounding a bit over-confident. She hated that he was cutting it so close; most of her friends hadn’t met him and a few doubted his existence, joking with her that she made him up in order to get out of the marriage with Kareem.
Something she said piqued Uncle Abe’s interest. He set his tea cup down a bit too hard and half of the contents splashed out onto the Italian white marble. “Who’s Kiran?” he muttered.
Annika grabbed a towel and wiped up the spilled tea, then topped off his cup from a fresh pot. “That’s my fiancé, Uncle. Remember? You met him.”
“The lawyer? Ah yes, he was a nice man. He’ll make a fine husband.”
Annika cringed. Why must she relive her folly in her uncle’s forgetful mind? She had to explain this to him at least once a day that she had a different fiancé. “No, Uncle, I decided not to marry Kareem. I’m marrying Kiran instead. I met him in India, remember? When I went looking for Dev?” Her older brother had stayed behind in Goa with Scarlett, her best friend. They had a shotgun wedding—Scarlett was pregnant and therefore couldn’t fly for the engagement party—and only Annika knew about any of it.
God, she wished she was here.
The old man’s wrinkles squeezed together as his brain worked overtime in labored thought. Then he sipped his tea, relaxed and satisfied he finally had it straight. “Oh yes, my dear, a good man. Kiran is a good man.”
Then she heard Raz snort behind her in amusement and the clinking of a spoon on her mother’s fine China. She whipped around as he exited through the door to the garage, her untouched oatmeal in hand. “Hey, that’s mine!”
“Don’t worry, Annika, in two minutes you’ll want eggs instead, changing your mind just like you did to poor Kareem,” he retorted, the door slamming behind him.
Her face went red with fury. How dare he! What made her angrier is that she was thinking about eggs just as he said that. “I’m going to kill him!” she yelled, slamming down the towel and rushing after him. As if life wasn’t hard enough? She waited three whole minutes for that damn cinnamon apple concoction and her stomach was growling like a grizzly.
Uncle Abe smiled and calmly put his hand on her shoulder forcing her to a stop. “Annika, let me tell you something important. We’re all human beings with free will and we’re all allowed to eat whatever we choose, my dear. What’s important is to not spoil your appetite worrying about a bowl of something you didn’t really want anyway…or you rob yourself of truly appreciating the fine feast that will come later.”
Good lord, her uncle was waxing poetic about breakfast. Or was he talking about something else? His odd choice of words cut into her and she wondered if she was worrying unnecessarily about Kareem and allowing it to spoil her happiness with Kiran.
“Thanks, Uncle. You’re right. I didn’t want oatmeal anyway.”
After downing a quick egg—because yes, she really did wants eggs after all—Annika decided to walk down to Berry Creek behind her house and check on the pink lotuses even though she knew it was far too early in spring for them to rise up to the water’s surface.
Her morning phone call to Kiran hadn’t been answered, so she wanted to be in the place where her happiest memory was of him—the moment she knew they would be together forever.
She found a spot to sit near the water’s edge and then it struck her that this was also the place of her most terrifying memory, the time she nearly drowned as a child. A chill swept over her. If there was one thing she hated, it was the feeling of drowning and being utterly out of control. Since that day, she had learned to use everything within her power—her charm, beauty, and other persuasive skills in her arsenal—to stay in control and get what she wanted.
And she wanted Kiran.
For a moment she could feel his lips on hers, and his strong arms wrapped around her as he whispered into her ear his undying devotion. I will always come for you, he had said, surprising her with a trail of pink lotuses having flown in from India after she had left in a moment of misguided and childish anger. A part of her wondered if she would ever do something so terrible that he would break his promise.
Like she broke hers to Kareem.
Kareem. Why did she have to keep thinking about him with a sense of dread? “He’s the oatmeal, you idiot,” she mumbled to herself. “Stop letting it ruin your perfectly poached organic pasture-raised eggs on sourdough toast.” Maybe her uncle had made some sense after all.
A crunch of leaves followed by a broken twig made her jump.
She wasn’t alone.
The cheerful voice of her closest “frenemy,” Eva Gerardi, rang out. “What are you doing out here, Annika? Meeting your HBD for a secret rendezvous?”
Crap. They were supposed to go shopping for dresses today and she’d forgotten. Annika stood up and assessed Eva. As usual, the tall strawberry-blonde knockout was a vision of perfection in skinny jeans, ankle boots and a silky pink blouse, complete with Annika’s favorite shade of pink Frostberry lipstick—it was a limited run only available at select stores and Annika had lost her last tube. Huh, where did she get that?
The two met in college in Dallas and had bonded over the important things in life: shopping, the sport of looking beautiful, and the art of attracting rich men. Now that Annika was accomplished at all three, she felt a shift in their relationship.
It was jealousy.
“Oh, damn, I forgot. Sorry,” she offered, suddenly wishing she hadn’t committed to the date, but Ava had insisted she help her find the perfect dress for the engagement party. “My HBD—Kiran—is in India, by they way.” She raised an eyebrow as Ava pursed her pink lips into a pout. “Nice lipstick. How did you find me?”
“Thanks. That old guy…”
“You mean my Uncle Abe,” Annika interjected.
“Yeah, he said you went out here to think about oatmeal. He’s off his rocker, isn’t he?” She laughed, which made Annika feel a bit defensive about the sweet man.
“No, he’s not. He’s just fine,” she said forcefully. Only family could pick on Uncle Abe, and Ava was barely a friend. “I need to change my clothes—it won’t take long. Come on.”
The two walked back toward the house while Ava filled her in on all the latest gossip in their circle of friends. But there was one piece of gossip that stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Did you hear about Kareem?” Ava asked, her eyes brimming with mischief.
“No. What?” Annika braced herself for something terrible. Was he clinically depressed after losing her? Did he attempt suicide? Or something worse?
“Apparently he told his parents that he broke it off with you. That you were cheating on him from the beginning.”
“What?” Annika couldn’t believe her ears. The nerve!
“Yeah, I think he’s trying to save face. Poor guy.”
“Poor guy? I was just a trophy to complete his carefully constructed successful image. He never loved me.”
“Well, you might want to straighten it out then,” Ava suggested, like poking at the burning embers of a dying fire, trying to revive them.
But Annika was already jogging ahead toward the house, clenching her fists and burning with rage. This was why she felt so damn unsettled about Kareem! He was spreading lies about her!
And she was going to put a stop to it.