Vegas to Varanasi (Fortytude Series Book 1) (4 page)

“Oh, God no.” I suck in some air between my teeth and scrunch up my face, praying it won’t be something embarrassing. “What do you remember?”

“There was this guy in our class, Mark. Big, muscle-bound jock.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, and my pet name for him was
asshole
.” Kiran laughs and rubs his chin. I look over his shoulder to see Luke and Miranda slow dancing, and she’s girlishly fiddling with his tie. Boy, is she in for a surprise. I return my gaze to Kiran. “Sorry. Continue.”

“Well, Mark was always making mean comments to me about my glasses, my weight.” I do sort of remember that. He sat behind Kiran, and I sat next to Mark. “One day he was at it again, and you told him to give it a rest. And he said, ‘What about it? He’s a whale!’ Then you said, ‘And you’re a dick.’”

I nearly spit out my drink. I have no recollection of this incident. “I said that?”

“Yes. Yes, you did. And I had a huge crush on you from that day forward.”

Oh, no he did-unt!
This Adonis had a crush on
me?
Inconceivable! Yes, I know. He wasn’t an Adonis back then, but still...

“Wow. It’s amazing the things I don’t remember. Luke brings up stuff from school all the time and I have no clue what he’s talking about, so please don’t take offense.”

“None taken.”

We sit in silence, and it’s a little uncomfortable because I’m facing the dance floor, but he’s facing me, so he doesn’t really have anywhere to look but
at
me.
Come on, Anna. Think of something else to say.

We both start speaking at once.

I laugh. “It’s okay. You go.”

“I was just wondering if you would like to dance.”

If a fast song were playing, like the Chicken Dance or something, I would probably accept. Not that I enjoy doing the Chicken Dance with a tremendously gorgeous man, but given that it’s a slow dance, I don’t think it would be appropriate.

“I’m actually involved with someone, so I would feel kind of weird.”

“Oh!” he says with surprise. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t worry about it.” I wave my hand. “You had no way of knowing.”

“So your boyfriend? Husband...?”

“Boyfriend,” I answer.

“Your boyfriend is okay that you’re so close with your ex?” I’m not the least bit put off by his question, but before I can answer he says, “That was none of my business. I apologize. And I didn’t mean for that to sound as sexist as it came out.”

“Apologies aren’t needed. It’s a perfectly normal question.”

“No, really. I can’t believe how bad that sounded.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and playfully shake him a bit. “Relax! It wasn’t any worse than the questions I pummeled you with the minute you came over here.” I lean back in my chair and notice the headache I’m beginning to get for going past drink three. “Anyway, there’s a reason my boyfriend’s okay with it. A reason that Miranda will not be pleased with.”

Kiran says nothing, but eyes me quizzically.

“He’s gay.”

“Luke?”

I grin widely, probably a bit sadistically, and nod.

Just then, Luke and Miranda return to our table, with Miranda holding onto his arm with both hands as if she’s afraid I’m going to snatch away her little toy.

“Have fun?” I ask.

“Absolutely!” Luke says. “And you?” His eyes are big, and I spy a little smirk on his face.

I scowl briefly.
What was that supposed to mean?

“Kiran, Miranda, I hope you don’t mind if I have a dance with my first love,” Luke says as he extends his hand to me.

Oh, Miranda minds. She minds a lot!

“Of course,” Kiran says. “Go right ahead.” Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear his eyes linger on mine before I take Luke’s hand and walk away.

I feel bad for leaving Kiran with that horrid woman, who now drapes her arm around him.

“Well, how entertaining was that?” I say once we’re on the dance floor. “Leading on that poor lass when she doesn’t have a chance in hell.”

“It was quite entertaining, actually.” We dance in silence for a few moments before he says, “What did you and Kiran talk about?”

“Nothing much.” I shrug. “Did you know he went to school with us?”

“Really. Don’t think I knew him, but you seem to be hitting it off with him pretty well.”

“Mmm hmm.” I pretend to be absorbed in the other couples who are dancing. “He’s very nice.”

“That’s it? He’s very nice?” He pulls away so he can look into my face.

“What? He’s nice.”

“And he’s not easy on the eyes at all. C’mon, Anna.
I’d
be going after that if Richard wasn’t in the picture.”

“Okay, so he’s a
little
good-looking.” We both start laughing at the absurdity of that comment. “Oh, my God, he is perfection!”

“So what’s he doing with that nightmare?” He motions back to the table. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous, but no amount of gorgeous is worth that!”

“They’re on a blind date.”

We both watch them for a few seconds. Kiran is speaking with the gentleman next to him, while Miranda has her back to him and checks her phone.

Luke turns back to me. “He is clearly smitten with you.”

“What? No he is not!”

The music picks up at the perfect moment to interrupt our conversation, and what does the D.J. play? “Melt With You”. I joyously step out of my heels because my poor feet can tolerate them no longer, and I set them down in the corner of the dance floor. Then I dance back toward Luke. The floor is pretty crowded so I have to weave my way back in.

Luke wraps his arm around my waist and takes my hand, and we’re singing to each other, looking quite ridiculous, I’m sure. He’s twirling me and I know we’re not the least bit graceful or smooth, but we don’t give a crap because we’re having fun. It feels like it was just yesterday we were sixteen, dancing like this, and that Billy Idol wannabe who was always at the club was gyrating alongside us.

Then something terrible happens. I get all nostalgic, and I start thinking about the fact that, back when we enjoyed this song, there was still the hope of Luke loving me the same way I loved him.
Don’t you do it, Anna. Don’t you get weepy now!

But it’s too late. Luke can already see it in my face and my eyes start to burn. I force a smile, trying to laugh at myself. Knowing what this is about because he knows me better than anyone, he pulls me into his arms and holds me. As we slowly sway to the music, I look up at the white lights beneath the canopy. My backup plan for crying at inappropriate moments. Look up, so the tears go back in, not out.

Five

I enter the house quietly, not sure if David is already asleep. Of course, he isn’t. The light from the office casts down the hallway, and I poke my head in the door to see him at his laptop, as usual.
              “Hey,” I say quietly.

“Hey.” He turns my way. “Wow! You look great. How was the wedding?”

“It was fun.” I walk over behind him and put my arms around his chest. Then I run my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Will you be coming to bed soon?”

He closes his tired eyes and leans back in his chair. He loves it when I rub his head. “Soon. I’m just in the middle of something and don’t want to lose my train of thought, okay?”

I notice the glass of Merlot on the desk and drop my hands to my sides. He opens his eyes and sees me staring at it. “It’s only my second glass. I’ll be coming to bed within a half hour. I promise.”

I bend over and kiss him. “Okay. I missed you tonight.”

“Me, too.” He smiles. “Wait up for me?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I head to the bathroom to wash off my makeup and brush my teeth before crawling into bed. After waiting nearly an hour, I drift off to sleep.

I wake the next morning and breathe a sigh of disappointment that David didn’t keep his promise. He’s lying beside me with his arm over my stomach, out for the count.

I slide from underneath him and slip on my flip flops. If I don’t remember to put on shoes while walking on the laminate floors, my feet get really dirty and gross. Okay, so I’m not the best housekeeper, but living in a dust bowl makes it harder yet.

After I get my cup of coffee started in the Keurig, I open the refrigerator to check how much Merlot is left.

Most of the bottle is intact. Good. But honestly, I’m not sure if we had more than that to begin with, and I don’t have any way of knowing if he drank some kind of hard liquor as well. This is going to be impossible.

It’s late morning, and I decide to call Julia to find out how the rest of the evening went. I didn’t have much opportunity to talk to her last night; she was so busy playing hostess.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, but I’m still trying to rise from the dead,” Julia says groggily.

“Everything was beautiful. The food was delicious! Did Katherine and Jacob get off okay?”

“I know what you meant, like take off for their honeymoon, but that sounded really weird.”

“Ewww!” I stir some milk into my coffee. “Maybe it was a Freudian slip, since it’s been at least a couple of weeks since David and I have gotten off.”

She laughs. “I’m sorry to hear that. Any more drinking binges?”

I take my mug into the living room, sit down on the couch, and put my feet up. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

“Good. So who was that I saw you talking with last night, and where can I get his number?”

“It was your own daughter’s reception. Weren’t you supposed to know who everyone was?”

“Did you see how many people were there? If they weren’t one of Kat’s guests, I had no clue. Actually, there were several people that she invited and I still couldn’t tell you who they were. You know I’m terrible with names!”

Trixie trots up, wagging her tail and wiggling her butt, reminding me that I haven’t pet her hello this morning. She’s a pit-greyhound mix I got at the shelter three years ago. I scratch her ears, and she immediately falls on her back, inviting me to rub her tummy.

“His name is Kiran,” I say to Julia’s question. “He was a guest of Jacob’s side of the family, but he actually went to high school with us.”

“You’re kidding! How weird is that? I’m pretty sure I would remember him.”

“He didn’t look like that in high school. He was among us mortals back in those days. But the funny thing is, he remembered me because I told off some guy who teased him all the time. I’d forgotten all about it.”

“Score a point for Anna!”

“Yeah, well, the unexceptional had to stick together. Good for him that he no longer needs my services.” I brush some chip crumbs off the couch.
Hayden!

“I didn’t mean to change the subject earlier about you and David. Do you need to talk? Do you want to meet for dinner or something?”

I shake my head, then realize she can’t see me. “I’m okay. Keep that offer open, though.”

“Always.”

Six

“Good morning, Anna.” Geena Kapur takes a seat in my waiting area. At sixty-nine, she’s one of my patients recovering from a hip replacement, and I can only hope to look as good when I’m her age. She’s one of those older women who knows how to dress her age without wearing pocketless, elastic band jeans and ugly, orthopedic sandals. Her long, straight black hair has little grey and is pulled back into a ponytail, away from her olive-colored skin.

“Good morning, Geena.” I could use a few pointers from her when the time comes. Come to think of it, I can probably use them now. Shopping for clothes when you’re a woman my age is such a pain in the ass. You want to look stylish, but you have to be careful not to dress too young or you’ll look ridiculous.

I frequently shop at Kohl’s, simply because there’s one by my house, and they suck me in with the thirty percent off coupons and Kohl’s Cash.

The cutest, most appealing clothes are always in the juniors section, but the cuts are not made for older women, hence the name
juniors
. Even though I’m slim, I have pushed out two babies, and juniors clothes tend to accentuate belly pooches and back fat, creating the dreaded muffin top. Therefore, most of the time juniors are not an option.

In my quest for decent clothing, I’ve roamed the misses department, making my way through Vera Wang, J.Lo, on to Chaps, and then before I know it, I’m horrified to realize I’ve crossed the aisle into the old lady section. That’s right. Dana Buchman and Croft & Barrow. I’m not saying these clothes are hideous. They’re not as bad as the mail order styles you find in coupon flyers, but let’s face it. It’s clothing for older ladies. Maybe it
is
intended for women my age and I’m just in denial. Whatever the case, I’m not ready to go there.

I realize my mind has wandered. “Where’s Mr. Kapur today?”

“He had to fly back to see his mother. She’s not well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“My son brought me today. He’s parking the car.”

“Okay.” I hold out my hands to her to help her back up, not that she really needs it. “Let’s get Teresa to start you on your warm-up exercises, and then I’ll meet you at one of the tables. You look well. How’s the hip?”

“Good,” she says, linking her arm in mine. “Getting stronger every day. No pain at all since the surgery. Best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Excellent. That’s generally what I hear from patients.” Geena has only been coming to me for three weeks and has already progressed from a walker to a cane.

My receptionist is on her break, so I return to the counter to check Geena in after she joins Teresa. My eyes are on the computer monitor when someone speaks.

“Anna?”

Immediately, I recognize his voice and whip my head around to confirm.

“Kiran!”

I walk over to him and he rises from his seat. “How serendipitous!” I’m not sure I’ve ever heard someone use that word before in real life. When we shake hands he encloses mine in both of his. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“You, too. I’ve been seeing your mother for a couple weeks now. She told me she had a son, but who would have thought?”

“Yes, well, I don’t know if she told you, but I’ll be bringing her for her visits while my father is away.”

“She said that your grandmother is sick. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

We stand there for a few moments, Kiran with his hands in his pockets and me sort of bobbing my head like a doofus. “Well!” I snap out of my stupor. “Why don’t you come back?” I motion to the open therapy area, where Geena and three other patients are doing their exercises in various parts of the room.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You won’t. It’ll be fine.”

Over in the corner, Geena is doing her lateral stretches with the elastic band around her ankles.

“It’s a small, small world,” I say as I approach Geena with Kiran alongside me.

“And why is that?” she asks.

Kiran fills her in about how we went to school together and recently met each other at the wedding.

“My goodness!” she says. I hold her arm to stabilize her while she changes position for her next set. “This is who you were telling me about, the woman you spoke with at the reception?”

Kiran reddens and clears his throat. “Yes.”

I don’t get why he appears embarrassed. I guess I just assume someone with his looks interacts with women all the time and wouldn’t feel awkward at our age.

“Oh, and Kiran told me how awful that Miranda girl was. I feel bad for putting him in that position.”

“I’m sure Anna doesn’t need to know about every single conversation we’ve had.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, she wasn’t very nice,” I agree. “She was beautiful, for sure, but your son could do much better.” I give him a friendly smile.

“Isn’t he handsome, though?” she asks as we walk to one of the treatment tables. “I’m so proud of him. He lost a lot of weight three years ago. Seventy pounds.”

Before I have the chance to stop myself, my eyes bulge. “You’re kidding!”

“I’m going to go wait in the car now.” Kiran sounds like he’s joking, but I think he might be ready to bolt for the door.

“Maybe we should change the subject, Geena. I think we’re making Kiran uncomfortable.” I stand next to her as she slowly hoists herself onto the table. Then I turn to Kiran. “But in all seriousness, that is quite an accomplishment. You should be very proud.”

“Thank you.”

If Kiran has been overweight nearly his whole life, I’m beginning to understand why he’s so reserved. Maybe he’s not used to the attention he surely attracts on a constant basis.

“Okay, Geena, just relax while I slowly press your knee toward your chest. As always, let me know if there’s any pain.” She nods in acknowledgment.

I decide to move on to a new topic to discuss with Kiran. “I remember now your mother told me you’re a dermatologist. Think maybe you could hook me up with some botox? I’ve got this deep crease in my brow right here that makes me look like I’m always scowling.”

He gazes at me intently and hesitates before answering. “You don’t need it.”

Gulp.
Now who’s the one uncomfortable?

Geena is oblivious as my eyes fix on his a little longer than they should. Is it getting hot in here?

I look away and push my hair behind my ear. “So, Geena, where did your husband have to go to see his mother?”

“India.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit India, among a dozen other places. Did your family live there before coming here?”

“We moved to India for a few years after my junior year,” Kiran explains. “My father joined a colleague’s practice there.”

“That explains why I don’t remember seeing you after that.” I give Geena my hand to help her into a sitting position so that she can get down from the table. “Well, that’s it for today, lovely lady. We will see you next time.”

“Thank you, Anna.”

“Yes, thank you,” Kiran says, those green eyes penetrating mine.