Catie was up ahead with Gabriel.
Raj kissed the top of her head as the guests rained flower petals down on a laughing ísa and Sailor. “You like this a lot. Regretting our own plans?”
“Six hundred and fifty guests at last count,” she reminded him, slipping her arm around his waist. “No way a beach would work. Most importantly, I get to marry you—I would do it even if all we’d been able to find were avocado-green walls. I just want to be your wife.”
His jaw got tense in that way it did when he was battling strong emotions.
Rising up on tiptoe, she kissed that jaw. “I love you too.”
He didn’t say it then. He said it when they were alone and he was inside her and he was holding her in his arms and her breath was lost. “I love you, Nayna. You could break my heart into a million pieces.”
Eyes hot, she wrapped herself around him as tightly as she could and just held on. And knew she’d have to show her love to him always. He was so strong, Raj, but he had this wound inside him. She didn’t know if she could heal it, but she was damn well going to try. “You’re mine, Raj, and I’m not letting go. Ever.”
They came together tangled in a kiss.
50
Husband and Wife
Not long after that, they came together as husband and wife.
This time it was ísa who fussed around Nayna, checking that her dupatta was fixed perfectly over the simple coil of her hair—simple, that is, but for the strands of gold she’d had put in. The gold glittered through the fine gauze of her bridal dupatta.
Madhuri had nearly died of cheerful jealousy.
Edging the light gold dupatta was a band of gold embroidery. Her skirt was a deep pink with intricate gold embroidery, her fitted top matched—complete with borders at the bottoms and at the edges of the short sleeves.
Her jewelry was the same that Madhuri had worn—their mother’s and grandmothers’ pieces, along with additions that were gifts from Madhuri and ísa. And Raj’s ring on her finger. All things that meant something to her.
“You look like an Indian princess,” ísa whispered, her eyes dancing.
They both laughed at the memory of the seven teaspoons of sugar with which she’d punished Raj. “He keeps threatening to get me back for that.”
“Nayna, meri bitia.” Placing a hand on her head, her grandmother gave her one last kiss before walking out to make her way to her seat at the front table—right next to Mr. Hohepa.
Nayna’s parents told everyone he was Aji’s good friend. The “youngsters’” bemusement caused the two elders huge amounts of glee.
“Girls, it’s almost time.” Nayna’s mother bustled in, resplendent in a deep aquamarine sari with white beading. She fixed Nayna’s necklace, then turned to make sure ísa’s dupatta was securely pinned.
Her best friend was dressed in a half sari, the color a redhead-flattering vivid purple accented with blues, golds, and even a strip of green on the hem of the skirt. The dupatta, which picked up the accent colors, was made of netting and tucked in a way that complimented ísa’s curvy form. She wore jewelry matched to the outfit, and hidden under her long skirt were pretty heeled sandals. Mehndi designs marked her palms.
Madhuri bustled in then, gorgeous in vibrant yellow. “Come on, ísa, it’s time!” She grabbed ísa’s hand, but Nayna’s best friend turned around to smile at her one more time.
“I’m so happy for you, Nayna.”
Then the music was playing and Madhuri and ísa and the other younger members of the family were dancing down the open-air aisle under the soft darkness of dusk, all of them laughing as they pulled off an upbeat Bollywood dance number that had the guests on their feet, singing and dancing along. Someone whistled and a friend of Raj’s beat out a rhythm on a tabla set up in one corner for just this purpose.
Children ran out from the crowd to join in, and were joyously welcomed.
Aditi, on the groom’s side, technically shouldn’t have been in the group, but she was the one who’d choreographed the entire thing after Nayna told her what she wanted—and no way was she about to miss the big event. And this was Nayna and Raj’s wedding, with their rules. Dressed in an outfit of shimmering cobalt blue edged with intricate silver, her dupatta silver with a lacy silver pattern, Raj’s baby sister danced down alongside the others.
Madhuri had learned the steps while in her lounge in London, while several of Nayna’s Fiji-resident cousins had got together at an aunt’s house to do the same.
The rehearsal yesterday’d had them all in hysterics, but they were in fine form today.
Nayna, able to see them from her hiding spot, grinned. Yes, this was her and Raj’s wedding, nothing solemn or stiff about it.
Her parents paraded far more elegantly up the aisle, both with huge smiles on their faces.
Raj’s family—Aditi excepted—was already with him on the wedding pavilion built on the grass of the huge piece of land they’d managed to borrow thanks to Raj’s friendship with the owner. It was gorgeous, with mature trees all around the edges. Huge wooden buckets overflowing with cheerful flowers dotted the landscape, and fairy lights strung across the area created a twinkling ceiling.
The wedding pavilion was raised so all their guests could see the ceremony. Rather than glitz, they’d gone for wild and joyous. The structure was a creamy white, but waterfalls of colorful silk fabric dropped from the roof in fairytale abundance to tumble over the edges of the pavilion. Velvet-covered cushions and a thick Turkish rug finished off the decadent space.
People sat at tables dressed with more bright silks and centerpieces that were a spill of floral joy. The small sparkly bags filled with snacks to tide people over through the beginning of the ceremony had been Madhuri’s idea. Wait staff would soon begin circulating with more substantial eats.
Her parents and Raj’s had insisted on paying for the ridiculously huge wedding, complete with catering. She and Raj had the feeling they were hoping for payback in the form of grandchildren.
Smiling inside at the idea of making babies with Raj, she took a deep breath and got ready. Her escort was made up of “brothers.” Younger male cousins, all spiffed up in colorful sherwanis for the occasion and trying to be adult and serious.
Nayna had to fight the urge to pinch their cheeks and hug them close.
Her entrance music began.
Though hundreds of people stood watching her move up toward Raj, the wedding garland in her hands, he was the only one she saw. And then he was standing across from her and he was bending so she could place the garland over his head, and she was wearing the one he’d put over her head, and the ceremony had begun.
She knew it took a long time, but every time she glanced at Raj, he’d give her the smile that was just for her, and it was perfect. Their parents tried to glare at them to behave and be solemn, but their lips kept tugging up. Even the pandit just sighed and shook his head as he said, “Young people these days” and continued the ceremony.
During the part where the two of them were hidden under a heavily embroidered cloth so they were invisible to others, Nayna blew Raj a kiss, and he fleetingly touched his thumb to her lower lip. After which they had to behave and do what they were supposed to under the cloth, which was for Raj to put sindoor—vermillion powder—in the center part of her hair.
He did it with a gentle touch.
The rest of the ceremony passed by in joy after joy, but Nayna was never so glad as when she collapsed in bed with Raj that night. They’d managed to convince their parents to do away with the custom of “fetching the bride back.” Lying on his back beside her, wearing only his formal pants, Raj lifted up her hand and traced the lines of mehndi down her arm.
“There’s a secret hidden in the design somewhere on my body.” Mehndi patterns covered her arms past the elbow, her feet, and her legs up to her calves.
He continued to lazily trace the lines. “What?”
“Your name.”
A glance at her. “Really?”