Page 55 of No Other Love

‘Has reading all those romance books eaten away at your rational brain, Dr. Vikrant?’ I stared at him in stupefaction. This was not the response I expected for my question.

He shrugged. ‘We can all learn a few things from romance books, Anika. Like, taking the time to listen to each other’s heart.’ He put his hand on my heart, which beat just for him. ‘Expanding our own hearts to hold space for the other person, in their good and bad and fucking sexy moods.’ He put another hand on his own chest. ‘And learning to not hold onto all the things when we are meant to hold each other.’

‘Definitely rotting your brain,’ I murmured.

He tugged me closer with a jerk of the pallu. ‘I love you, Anika,’ he said seriously.

And he looks so deliciouslyyummyin the kurta pajama, all lean muscles, cut cheekbones and night eyes, I leaned in and took a luscious bite of his pink lips. He kissed me back, forcefully. Before placing his forehead against mine and breathing softly.

“’ love you and I vow to stand by you, forever.’

I heaved out a suddenly heavy breath. ‘You’re supposed to be fucking me into oblivion. Not melt my heart and make me cry.’

‘I am a doctor. I can multi-task like a pro.’

‘I love you too,’ I whispered. ‘I love you so much I’ll haunt your fucking dreams if you fuck things up between us again. And,’ honesty made me add, ‘I’ll not become so blind to your needs while I work at my career. At least, I’ll try my hardest not to.’

‘I can’t wait to watch you achieve incredible things with your career, Dr. Anika. I’m thinking Surgeon General of India intwenty years, baby.’ He cupped my cheek and ran a thumb over it. His eyes lit up by the prospect of seeing me succeed. Hemeantit.

‘You don’t…’ I swallowed. ‘Do you think this place will give us a refund if we tell them we didn’t use the facilities?’

Vikrant blinked.

I rushed to explain, ‘I know…it must have cost an insane amount to book this place on short notice. I mean, they actually have gold-plated jewelry, Vikrant. And those flowers are fresh. They’re hydrangeas. Obviously, they’re being flown in or driven in.’ I frowned. ‘And that four-poster bed is French furniture, which I find slightly racist. We have plenty of great craftsmen in India too. We don’t need to go French for class.’

Vikrant laughed, from his heart and hugged me close with a little too much force. I flailed around in his arms, and he went flying backward. So, we both landed inelegantly on the water, half sitting in the water.

‘The marble is Italian and mined from the quarry the hotel owner has a stake in. And I think the diamonds on the lobby chandelier are the real deal,’ Vikrant said solemnly.

I stared at him, bemused. ‘How do you know all this?’

‘Ansh Thackeray owns this place. You know, the mega hotelier?’

I did know the name. He was a serious hottie businessman whose social media posts were all about holding his singer-songwriter wife, Kahini, close and gazing adoringly at her at exotic locales all over the world. And the business pages reported on his exploits, along with the other filthy rich men he did business with.

‘I see.’ I saw nothing but I wasn’t going to let Vikrant get the best of me.

‘Then you also see that Ansh owes me a favor for bringing his child safely into the world, last year when he and his very pregnant wife were here to oversee the hotel opening. And he said at the end of the birth, ‘I owe you, Pandit. I owe you big’.’ Vikrant shrugged modestly, his black kurta sticking to his chest, turning transparent in the water. ‘I figured this was as good a time as any to collect.’

‘You could have asked anything you wanted from a multi-millionaire, and you chose a night in the bridal suite of ahotel?’I asked slowly.

‘It’s actually seven nights in the bridal suite,’ he corrected me. ‘With time off for work. But yes, that’s what I wanted.’

I could never figure this man out. I was going to spend a lifetime trying to. ‘You’re mad.’

‘For you.’ He brought me closer slowly.

And I became aware of how wet andsandymy sari was. But I went forward and landed on his lap, the sari sort of ballooning between us. Weighing us down in this moment, this place.

‘I’m.’ Kiss. ‘So.’ Kiss. ‘Mad.’ Kiss. ‘For.’ Kiss. ‘You. Long, toe-curling kiss. ‘Wife.’

My lips tingled by the time he was done with me. Nails digging grooves in his skin.

“I’m mad for you too, husband.” I fingered the simple silver chain and the ring I wore on it. I couldn’t wear a mangalsutra when women’s equality was athornyissue in the world (although if that’s what someone else wants to do it’s totally onthem), but I wanted a tangible symbol of belonging with Vikrant Pandit.

I had earned it.

He touched the ring he wore too, a twin of mine. I was thinking of getting it engraved with the date we became whole again, day before yesterday. But that was for a later date.