Even now, she glared at me with a sweep of her eyes like she probably had known the truth all along.

“Where’s your girlfriend? Or was that not really her?” she asked.

“Back at the room.” Damn. Hadn’t meant to carry the lie further, especially with such ease. Absolutely not the way I intended my confession to go, but maybe it was best to confess to my friends first, instead of my ex.

“Why haven’t you ever talked about her? Shown her off? Brought her around? Let me see a picture of you two together. Or do you not have one?” Sejal asked casually, as if her intentions weren’t laced with malice to undo my claim. “I wished that was one thing you’d done with me. Or really, another thing. It’s like your girlfriends don’t mean anything or stay on your mind long enough to mention them to others.”

Tension erupted between us in the fastest, hair-splitting second imaginable. If she’d meant to claw into my skin and burrow so deep that I felt her presence eroding me from the inside out, then she’d wildly succeeded.

“Like how you seem to love mentioning me and all my faults to everyone and their auntie?”

“Damn…” Maya muttered.

Sejal spat, “It’s just that I think you’re lying about this whole girlfriend thing.”

“And if I was, why the hell do you care?”

“I’ve only ever tried to better you.”

“Have you, though? Like a pet project?” I asked calmly. “I’m sure April doesn’t want this tension. Please save all that hate for after the wedding.”

April sighed, her shoulders deflating. “Can you guys be nice? Seriously, Sejal. How could you accuse Sunny of making up a girlfriend? You met her, the guys have met her. Besides, Sunny would never lie.”

Oh, damn. April’s glowing review of my morality wasn’t going to make this any easier.

April went on, “We’ll meet her soon.” She looked to me and said, “The guys love her, by the way! I’m so excited to meet her, to hug her, to welcome her into our group!”

She squealed. Her perception of my ethics and her unfiltered excitement over this surprise guest twist put my resolve in a vise.

“What’s got you so pale?” Sejal asked drolly.

“She doesn’t like physical contact with strangers, so I’d chill on the hugs.” Damnit, why was my mouth talking? Hadn’t it gotten the memo from my brain?

“Oh, that’s right!” April touched my arm, which had turned numb by now still holding two icy drinks. I couldn’t feel my hands. “The guys said that. Fist bump, right?”

“If you must touch her, maybe.”

“I’ll be sure to ask first. We all look forward to meeting your new flame,” April added in a singsong voice.

“Oh! Fantastic idea!” she went on with a clap of her hands, which meant her enthusiasm was getting the better of her. I braced for whatever she was about to say. “Bring her to the coffee tour.”

“No.” What excuse did I have? Ah! “She’s spending time with her sister.”

“Oh? Not taking advantage of a romantic getaway? She’s really here for her sister, isn’t she?” Sejal asked slyly.

“Her sister lives here,” I stated. “Her plans included her usual visit here, and the wedding happening at the same time and location is a mere coincidence.”

By now, Maya had finished her massage and sat up, taking a drink. Which reminded me that I should probably drink my own beverages before they turned tepid and unfulfilling, much like this conversation.

“Please bring her,” April insisted.

“Or tell us where your room is so we can see her,” Maya added. “I’m on edge wondering who in the world tamed you.”

“No one tamed anyone,” I assured her.

Before I knew it, the girls had convinced me to bring Bane or suffer their endless inquiries. “I’m sure she’s busy,” I said, desperate to avert.

“Call her right now,” April said, hands on hips, that defiant boss look on her face. “Don’t make the bride ask twice.”

Crap.

“Yeah, Sunny. Call this mystery girlfriend,” Sejal prodded.

April shot her a warning look. “Don’t mind Sejal. She’ll keep it cool, right, Sejal? Because no one wants a stressed-out bride.”

Sejal nodded, turning away. April went to her side, muttering, “What has gotten into you? You’re not jealous, are you?”

April was trying to mumble, but sound carried differently out here. I caught the question and Sejal’s shocked expression. As if she’d gotten called out in the ugliest way. She couldn’t possibly be jealous.

Jilted? Not likely. Annoyed? Pragmatically so.

Eleven Bhanu

Since stalking unmoving kanban cards in Asana and sluggishly altered movements in Jira had been driving me nuts, I’d taken up walking along the beaches armed with my water bottle, shades, floppy hat, the highest mineral SPF sunscreen allowed that wouldn’t kill the coral reefs, and this book. It was as bright as the day itself, and almost as hot. Diya, and all those social media readers, weren’t kidding.

I occasionally stopped when I found shade beneath trees to fan myself off and let the ocean spray cool my skin. Or when a dolphin jumped from the ocean far away. Or when a honu beached to get some rest and sun. I was sure to shoo off tourists disturbing any, but most people exercised common sense today.

At some point, I found an empty, shady spot to sit on porous black lava rocks that seemed to sparkle wherever the sun hit. I dipped my toes into the crystal-clear aquamarine water, and sighed, my muscles going slack. Okay, this was nice. Tons of space from others, breathtaking sights of a vast ocean, palm trees to my back, little yellow fish darting around my feet, cold water lapping at my calves, a refreshing breeze, and peaceful solitude.

Quiet was the key to recharging. I was the first to admit that turning my brain off was the hardest thing to do these days. With my phone a protruding rectangular block in my cross-body purse, the temptation to check on work, calls, or texts was ever-looming. And let’s not even think about interview callbacks. On the one hand, I was doing what Gabrielle had nearly begged me to do, which was minding my own nonwork business while away. On the other hand, I was waiting for a text from Mr. Sunshine himself to tell me he’d found a room and would be out of my hair and I’d be off the hook as far as this mad deception went. He’d come clean to his friends. They’d serve a round of pity drinks and solemn pats on the back, or whatever men did to express sympathy with these sorts of things. Then they’d laugh it off and tell him he’d find a woman of his own one day, but honestly not as beautiful and charming as that bewitching Bhanu.

No such text came.

Should I text him? No, then he’d know he was taking up space in my head and never let me live it down. He’d do that mocking smirk thing he typically did and bring out the fact that I’d been thinking about him every time we’d get into an argument. Which was essentially every day at work.

Plus, if I dared check my phone, I’d see a few missed calls, video calls, or texts from my mother. Whom I adored with all my beating heart, but she was desperate to see her daughters marry and start families or whatever nonsense she thought needed to happen for us to feel fulfilled and happy. I loved her for making us the focal point of her efforts, and she wasn’t nearly as theatrical, pushy, or obtuse as some horror stories I’d heard from others about their mothers.

Instead, my mom worked with calculated calls. She was working with Diya to get information, while simultaneously encouraging Diya to lock down her man to start having little brown babies.

I understood. She wanted us to be stable and not alone. But I was still ignoring her. There was a 100 percent chance she’d corner me into a call at least three times this visit through Diya.

For now, I dove into this book. It had actually succeeded in getting my mind off everything else, even the interview waiting game. As the sun moved across the sky, shifting the shade until there was no place left to scoot without being in the water, my phone rang.

It was Sunny, and I briefly considered disregarding him. Except he was calling and not texting, so maybe this was important?

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he said in that deep baritone voice.