"To be crystal-clear," Pavel asked, brandishing another bunch of carnations in the air, while they waited for the elevator in her parent's apartment building. "You don't need me to present as your adoring boyfriend? I make a positive impression on the older ladies."
"Nope," Daya said. "Nothing like that. I need you to be you. A friend, a coworker, a like-minded artist, no embellishments."
The elevator dinged, and Pavel stepped in behind her. "But if all you want is to ask your brother to make our costumes, why do you need me to meet your parents?"
"Because," Daya said, sliding her finger down the double column of buttons, looking for the correct floor. "You're there to guarantee that my mom doesn't do away with her two disappointing children. Let's just say Nihal's change of heart about his major wasn't popular. Me, showing appreciation for it..."
Pavel beamed. "Got it! A variation on the Project Convince Everyone Figure Skating Is Not a Waste of Time. Happens every New Year with my extended family."
"Pavel!"
The elevator's door opened up, and they spilled into the hallway.
"Pavel, please, just..."
He gave her his signature grin. "Leave it to the professionals."
With a growing sense of dread, Daya grabbed his sleeve, but her time had run out. Her mother peeked out of the condo, probably wondering why it was taking them so long to get from the lobby to the fifteenth floor.
"Mrs. Dhawan!" Pavel exclaimed, surging down the hall, the flowers momentarily obscuring Daya's line of sight to her mother's face. "I could smell the dinner from the lobby. I had never been hungrier in my life. You must tell me what this is, it's absolutely not the bland fare a guy gets in Moscow."
Her chest full of cold snakes, Daya muttered, "I thought you were from St. Petersburg..." to his jean-clad back.
He winked at her with one shoulder blade. Or at least she thought he meant it as a wink. If only your hands were that expressive...
Shanti made alarmed eyes from behind her mother's back, but the expression changed to dreamy once Pavel backed off from depositing the flowers for the gracious hostess into their mother's arms.
I hope nobody dies tonight.
At first, nobody did.
On the pretense of having to learn about the fine art of Indian cooking, Pavel took the spot next to the eldest Dhawan, and Daya found herself squeezed between her siblings just like in their childhood. Back when they lived in the family house, the kids' bench ran one side of the table in the breakfast nook. There was a lot of elbowing and kicking going on under the tablecloth.
In her parents' new condo, they sat on separate chairs, but Daya gave Shanti's shins a little kick to revive the fond memories.
"Stop staring at him, please?" she hissed, once Shanti slanted her eyes her way.
"Gorgeous..." her sister mouthed, tripling the o in the first syllable.
Daya rolled her eyes and piled Pavel's plate higher with the curried chickpeas. Technically, it was not his fault, but she didn't want to suffer alone.
"Thank you," Pavel roared enthusiastically, putting the food away like he hadn't seen a good meal in ages. Maybe he hadn't, but it was by choice, so not a single twinge of mercy stirred in her soul. Besides, he should put on some upper body weight.
Mike would have savored every bite. Her mother wouldn't have watched him eat with one cheek propped on her fist and a happy smile, like she did Pavel. But he would have been able to recite back the name of every morsel and spice half a year later if she woke him in the middle of the night. She'd like Pavel do that after five minutes!
YOU ARE READING
Winners Don't Have Bad Days (Watty 2020 Winner, Romance)
ChickLitWhen a total stranger knows what eats you, maybe they are your one true love. Even if you don't know it yet. || On Friday the 13th, two twenty-something, Daya and Mike, end up in a mutually beneficial arrangement: she is his caregiver after he break...
