Why would we order takeout? We make the takeout.
That was what Jiya had been told growing up, every time she begged her mother to order pizza for supper. By age ten, she’d finally given up hope and asked Andrew to sneak her slices whenever the Princes had pizza for dinner. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but he must have given up his own slices for Jiya, because there was no way three growing boys had left a scrap of cheese behind.
She barely stopped herself from letting out a lovesick sigh into her mapo tofu. When her mother’s razor-sharp gaze ticked up and landed on Jiya’s face, she knew thoughts of Andrew were visible on her face and no amount of willpower would hide them. It couldn’t be helped, though. She missed him.
There was something afoot, too. None of the Prince brothers had been home all day, which wasn’t unusual since they worked non-stop during the summertime, but something dense hung in the air over their neighborhood, making her stomach roil. Had they found more information about those possible gunshots at the Castle Gate?
Rain started to fall gently on the roof and Jiya’s mother threw up her hands. “Rain now, too? What else can go wrong?”
Jiya and her father exchanged a knowing glance, but didn’t hold it for long, lest they get caught and verbally bitch slapped. With a discreet cough, Jiya started to ask her mother her plans for next week’s specials menu when there was a knock on the front door. At first, Jiya thought it might be the rain or a tree branch being knocked into the side of the house. The wind had definitely picked up outside, along with the rain. It was coming down in buckets now.
But the knock sounded again and her father rose from the table, wiping his mouth and setting down his napkin. “Keep eating. I’ll get it.”
The front door was visible from the dining room, but only if Jiya leaned back in her seat and looked down the hallway, which she did now, balancing on the back legs of her chair. “Are you expecting a package, mother?”
No answer, just a weary hum. The silent treatment was definitely in full swing.
“Please, mother. You can’t just ignore me forever—” Jiya broke off mid-sentence when her father opened the door to reveal Andrew. “What…”
Their eyes met briefly over her father’s shoulder—and his burned. Water dripped from the ends of his hair onto the shoulders of his white T-shirt, the rain having turned it all but translucent. His gaze moved back to her father and he said some words Jiya couldn’t hear over the pounding in her chest. What was going on?
Her father turned and gestured to her. “Jiya, come.”
Was it her imagination or was there a smile playing around the edges of her father’s mouth? “It’s Andrew,” she murmured to her mother, dropping her chair legs back to the floor and rising as if in a trance. No, she was in one as she moved down the dark hallway toward the love of her life where he stood soaked in the doorway, exuding intensity from every inch of his body. “Come inside,” she whispered, unable to draw breath. “It’s raining.”
Andrew looked up as if he’d just noticed the weather for the first time and stepped over the threshold. Then he took another step, and another, until she had to tilt her head back so she wouldn’t have to break eye contact. “Your father just gave me permission to propose to you,” Andrew said, his attention moving to someone over Jiya’s shoulder. “But I would like it from you, too, Mrs. Dalal. If you don’t mind.”
Jiya was the epicenter of an earthquake. Everything inside her shook.
Was this real? The moment had all the elements of a dream. The darkness of their house, the white noise provided by the rain, the way everyone seemed to be standing still. So still. No, please let this be happening. Please. The possibility of a lifetime with her best friend being snatched away would leave her legless. She didn’t have to turn around to know her mother’s exact pose. Chin lifted, arms crossed, one foot turned out. “Well,” her mother said. “Ask permission.”
“Mother,” Jiya rasped.
“No,” Andrew said, brushing their fingers together. “I want to.” He looked into Jiya’s eyes as he spoke and she knew in that moment Andrew had been tempering his feelings for her when they were together. What poured from him now almost made her gasp. His love overwhelmed him, owned him, rocked him, and he let her see it all. Let her parents see it, too. “Being in love with your daughter is the best part of my life. I’m not a good Catholic, but every day I thank whoever is listening up there for putting her on this earth. On that first day we met, your eyes, Jiya…her eyes when she opened the fence in the backyard to invite us over…glued me together when I really needed it. She was my glue until I got stronger. And now all I want to do is use that strength she built in me to protect her. To build her a home and a family. I want to love her for the rest of my life and never, ever leave her side. I will worship her. Please will you let me do that, Mrs. Dalal?”