Sophia Sasson - First Comes Marriage

“As I said, I’ve known him for many years and we’re quite fond of each other. We’re research partners—we run a research project together, and after I finish my research doctorate, we’ll open our own lab.”

He raised his brows.

Suddenly, she didn’t want to talk about Raj anymore. “Are you married?”

Was it her imagination, or did he flinch? He shook his head. “I was engaged once.”

“What happened?”

“She left me.” His voice was devoid of emotion, but she sensed bitterness and pain behind the words.

“Is the fertility tea hers?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, that one took me by surprise, too.” He was trying too hard to keep his voice carefree. The raw sorrow in his eyes gave him away. She wanted to reach out and touch him.

“How long ago?” she asked softly.

“Almost a year.”

Meera placed her hand over his. “I’m so sorry.” His hand felt warm and rough and somehow familiar. Meera pulled away.

He gave her a wistful smile. “It’s probably for the best. I’ve let it go.”

She finished her sandwich and stood up to wash the plate. She had a thousand questions for him, but it didn’t feel right to pry. He seemed vulnerable...and heartbroken.

“Why’re you marrying a man you don’t love?”

Meera froze, the water pouring over her hands as she held the plate. Her head throbbed painfully. Was he asking because his fiancée had left him? “What makes you think I don’t love him?” Did her voice sound shaky?

“You haven’t once said that you do.”

She turned off the water and sat down wearily. “There are all kinds of love, Jake. My parents didn’t even know each other when my grandparents arranged their marriage. They discovered one another and fell in love after their wedding, and they’ve been together for forty years. Forty years!”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Love is something you have to nurture...it grows over time.”

“So what is this, an arranged marriage?” he asked contemptuously.

“You could call it that or a planned marriage. A carefully selected union between two people who know and admire each other. It’s a sound basis for selecting a life partner.”

He gaped at her, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s not a business merger, Meera, it’s a life together. This is the twenty-first century. Your parents can’t marry you off against your will.”

She glared at him. “How American of you to think this is happening without my consent! Arranged marriages have been a part of my heritage for a very long time. The divorce rate in India is one percent. One percent! Compared to over fifty percent here. I’m not marrying Raj because my parents are making me—I’m marrying him because I want to. He’s a good match for me, we’ve known each other for years...it only makes sense we would be good life partners.” Was it just her, or was it getting stuffy in here? Her head was about to explode.

“What about love?”

What was with Jake and this love thing? “There are all kinds of love. At some level, Raj and I have loved each other for twenty years.”

“That sounds like an academic argument to me.”

“Well, I am a scientist.”

“And yet you believe in karma.”

She started to argue, then stopped. He has me there. “There are many things in this universe that science hasn’t explained.”

“Are your parents happily married?”

“Pardon me?”

“You said your parents have been married for forty years. Has it been a happy marriage?”

She had never thought about it before, but of course her parents were happy. Weren’t they? She knew their inability to have children had created an underlying sadness for both of them, but beyond that? She suddenly realized she didn’t know much about how her parents’ marriage worked.

She stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a very difficult day and I’m exhausted. I need to go lie down and figure out whether I should return to London.” She pushed her chair back, picked up her cup and took it to the sink. She was grateful for the food and tea; she felt fortified.

When she was done washing the dishes, she muttered a curt good-night as she stepped past him.

“Throw them a barbecue.”

She turned in the doorway. “What?”

“The town. They can’t resist a good barbecue—it’s a good way to win them over. You can have it here, and I’ll give you a grill and meat. Just...wear jeans and a T-shirt—you know, regular clothes.”

She frowned at him. “What’s wrong with my clothes? This dress is Gucci.”

His eyes traveled up and down her body. Heat seared through her. “Most people here get their clothes at discount stores. Show them you aren’t the Queen of England. Wear something regular folks wear, like that dress you had on this morning.”

She began to argue with him, then stopped. He was showing her a way out. A barbecue. I can use it as an opportunity to show them...and Jake...that I’m not so strange. All was not lost. She could picture it already.

She clapped her hands and stepped toward him. “I’ll have it the day after tomorrow. It’s a Sunday, so the office will be closed. I’ll order everything I need online, overnight delivery. Yes, I’m sure I can make it work. I’ll go make a list right now. Thank you so much, Jake.”

Impulsively, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. Her lips tingled as they touched his prickly stubble, and she took in his scent. She stepped back, suddenly a little light-headed. Her headache was gone, replaced with comforting, elating warmth.

His eyes darkened. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “Yeah, well, I’ll tell Kelly to help you with all this. Let me know if you need anything.”

Her cheeks burned as she backed out of the room. She mumbled another thank-you and fled to the cottage.

CHAPTER FOUR

JAKE SURVEYED THE SCENE. Not bad. Meera had gone to quite some expense, renting a tent, tables, chairs, even a dance floor. The tables were draped with red-and-white-checkered cloths and little vases of fresh-cut flowers. She’d turned his entire field into a photo-worthy barbecue.

He’d seen the light on in the cottage well into the night for the past two days, and she was up before sunrise today. She set up the tent right in front of the hay barn, the red structure providing a picturesque backdrop. She even managed a great day: partly cloudy sky, pleasant breeze and dry ground.

She had already loaded coal in the chimney starters of the grill he’d lent her, and he made a mental note to check that she’d opened the vent. Meera was standing near the grill with a clipboard in hand. He could see her checking things off. She was dressed in jeans and—what do you know—a T-shirt. She looked amazing, but then she always did—in whatever she had on, even the severe dresses she wore to work. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail. He liked it. It showed off her big, expressive brown eyes.

She’s something, isn’t she? He didn’t know many people who would take on the town of Hell’s Bells. Jolene certainly hadn’t; she’d run away as soon as they turned on her, and she was born here. He admired Meera’s gumption. Although she looked like a fragile little thing, he sensed an inner strength. She was a fighter.

He walked toward her.

“Need some help?”

She looked up and smiled. Oh, wow. His legs suddenly felt unsteady, and he slowed down. It was the first genuine smile he had seen since she arrived, and it was spectacular. He stopped when he reached her and stared at the ground, not wanting to meet her eyes. She was wearing flip-flops with sequins on the straps, calling attention to her bright red toes.

“I think I have the grill going.”