kids. She had thought of ‘the obvious’—thought about it more often and for longer than she cared to admit. She’d even had an embarrassingly erotic dream about Vikram, which she’d been trying to push to the back of her mind. She stayed silent as he continued.
‘I’m not a very demanding person. If we marry, you’d be free to lead your life the way you want. I travel a lot, and I work long hours. I won’t be around much—I’d expect you to be independent and able to take of yourself.’
‘That won’t be a problem,’ Tara said before she could stop herself. ‘I’m not exactly the clingy type.’
‘I know,’ Vikram said, his lips quirking. ‘From what I’ve seen of you so far, you seem to be about as clingy as The-Cat-That-Walked-by-Himself.’
Tara tried to frown, but ended up laughing. The discomfort she’d felt at the way he’d spoken about Anjali was gone—after all, she didn’t know the full story. Perhaps Anjali had been one of those dreadful ‘girlfriends from hell’ kind of women? And Vikram looked so sexy when he smiled, she thought, it was impossible to think ill of him.
The food arrived, and Vikram skilfully guided the conversation towards Tara’s plans to become an environmentalist and specialise in the conservation of indigenous ecosystems. He didn’t speak much, except to interject with a question here and there. It was a ploy he used often at work—making someone talk of something they were passionate about to get them to reveal more about themselves.
By the end of the meal he knew enough about the ecosystems in eastern India to write a monograph on the subject—he also knew a lot more about Tara than he had before. His initial impression of her being extremely intelligent was confirmed, and he’d developed a healthy respect for her commitment to her research work.
‘I’m sorry I talked so much,’ she said as they walked towards the car. ‘I get a bit carried away when I’m talking about something that interests me.’
‘You apologise way too often,’ Vikram replied. He took her hand gently as they stopped by the car. ‘Tara, I’d like to spend more time with you, to get to know you better, but I know your parents won’t be in favour of that.’
Here comes the brush-off, Tara thought despairingly, while a separate part of her brain thrilled to the touch of his hand. She’d handled this all wrong, she thought. She should have let him do more of the talking. And ordering him to ask her questions had been a terrible move—what could she have been thinking? And the worst thing, quite apart from not being able to do her PhD if he didn’t marry her, was that in addition to thinking he was hot she’d actually started liking him.
‘So, given that it’ll be difficult to get any more time together, I guess we’ll have to decide now.’ Vikram took a deep breath. ‘Tara Sundaram, will you marry me?’
It came out sounding a lot cheesier than he’d intended, but the impact on Tara was satisfying. She looked stunned, staring at him with her pretty lips parted slightly, her breath coming a little faster. He realised he wanted to kiss her very badly, and to avoid succumbing to the temptation he released her hand, stepping back to lean against the car.
Tara took a few seconds to find her voice. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked finally, her voice sounding childish and more than a little shaky to her own ears.
Vikram nodded. ‘I am. You’d be free to do your doctorate, work at whatever you want …’ He raised a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, his hand lightly caressing her cheek.
For a second Tara had actually forgotten completely about her career aspirations, she was too busy trying to get her head around the fact that Vikram really wanted to marry her. When he mentioned the PhD, though, a rush of relief coursed through her.
‘Thanks,’ she blurted out.
Vikram winced. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from her at this stage, but it definitely wasn’t gratitude.
‘Let’s get back and tell our families, then,’ he said, opening the door for her before walking around to slide into the driver’s seat. ‘I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.’
Tara nodded silently, acutely aware of the awkwardness that had crept into the conversation. He was right—their parents would be thrilled. The magnitude of the step she was taking was just dawning on her, though, and an entire flock of butterflies seemed to have set up house in her stomach.
She clenched her hands together, willing herself to stay calm as they sped through the streets towards her parents’ home. It was done now, she told herself firmly, sneaking a quick glance at Vikram’s impassive profile. No turning back, even if she wanted to.
‘WHERE would you two like to go for your honeymoon?’ Vikram’s mother asked brightly. ‘Europe?’
She and Vikram were at Tara’s home to finalise some of the arrangements for the wedding before Vikram went back to Bengaluru. There were apparently a whole bunch of auspicious wedding dates in November, just a little over a month away.
Tara gulped. A honeymoon. That made the whole thing sound a lot more real. She glanced at Vikram quickly—as usual, it was difficult to gauge his reaction. Quite possibly he was as appalled at the thought of a honeymoon as she was.
‘I don’t have a passport,’ she said, trying to buy some time.
It was perfectly true, anyway. She’d asked her father once if she could get one and he’d sneered at the idea. Serve him right, she thought nastily. He’d have one less thing to brag about if she ended up going to Goa on her honeymoon. He was at his insufferable best right now, puffed up with pleasure at the thought of marrying his daughter into the general manager’s family.
Vikram’s mother looked disappointed. ‘Oh, dear. And there isn’t enough time to get one now. You might as well get it done with your new surname after you’re married. It’ll have to be some place in India, then.’ She got to her feet. ‘I’ll leave the two of you alone to discuss it.’
‘Do you want to change your surname after we marry?’ Vikram asked after his mother had left.
Tara gave him a startled look—it hadn’t occurred to her that she had a choice in the matter. ‘Isn’t it expected that I change it to yours?’
‘Who’s doing the expecting?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘Not me, definitely, and I don’t think anyone else’s opinion counts.’
It probably didn’t to him, but Tara herself didn’t have the courage to be quite so careless of other people’s views. Perhaps she’d get that way once she got away from her parents, she thought, her spirits lifting at the idea.
‘Honeymoon destinations,’ he said, as if the little interlude hadn’t happened at all. ‘Goa—Kerala—Rajasthan? Or something a little more out of the way?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tara said flatly. ‘I haven’t been to any of them, so it’s all the same to me.’
His face took on the remote expression that she’d mentally termed his switched-off face.
‘No preferences at all? Beaches? Backwaters? Palaces? No dream holiday destination?’
