The next morning, Lionel, returning from his regular Saturday morning yoga class, looked surprised to see Sharmila dressed in a translucent chiffon sari with her grandmother’s pearls around her neck.
He stashed his keys in the console drawer. “What’s with the sari? Didn’t realise you had plans today. Going somewhere special?”
Sharmila sensed irritation in his tone and in the stiff manner in which he put away his keys. She could read him well. She had just come down the stairs and was adjusting her sari in front of the large mirror in the foyer. She had been hoping to have left before Lionel got home, but the Uber was running late. “My mother wears a sari every day of her life.”
The guilt of going to brunch at a man’s house, a man she found madly attractive, made her snappy. Mixed in there was also some residual anger at Lionel for letting her down yesterday.
Lionel swept his hand through his hair, which he often did to buy himself a second. There was no teleprompter to help him here.
“I was invited to brunch with Vikram Shah and decided to wear a sari thinking it might give us a conversation starter,” she said, by way of apology. Touching the pearls, she added, “Channelling my inner Gayatri Devi.” She knew he would get the reference to the beloved Maharani of Jaipur and India’s 1940s queen of style.
“Where’s the brunch?”
“At Jake Thacker’s house. The other guy on the floor doing the plank with that Sunny Kundra who was all over the news last week. He made the recent Forbes list,” said Sharmila as casually as she could.
“Thacker was the guy who winked at you when we walked in?” said Lionel in a clipped tone.
Oh. He had noticed.
“Well—”
“Guessing I wasn’t invited,” he said.
“You weren’t there last night when I was invited,” she said pointedly.
“It couldn’t be helped,” he responded sharply. She raised her brow at him.
“Couldn’t be helped?”
“Moving on,” he snapped.
“Fine.” She knew he’d never admit any wrong so why continue.
“I ran into Jay from Fox at the yoga studio. He said he had it on good authority that Ohio State Senator James Stewart might be on the Dem’s VP shortlist. You know the family, don’t you?”
Sharmila’s heart froze. Yes, she knew the family. She knew James Stewart. Knew him only too well.
“Senator Robert Stewart’s son?” A wave of panic hit her in a rush. All thoughts of Jake and the brunch disappeared. Sharmila could barely concentrate on the rest of what Lionel was telling her. Disturbing memories started to seep out, overwhelming her. James Stewart as vice president? This cannot be happening! her brain screamed. A man like that could not be allowed to hold the second-highest office in the country.
“Crap,” he said with a glance at his watch, “I’m supposed to check in with my producer.” He rushed to his study, leaving her stranded with her thoughts.
Minutes went by. Her mind whirred madly. She felt like she was suffocating. Couldn’t breathe. She threw open the front door and stumbled outside. Fresh air and warm sunlight washed over her. She took a deep, steadying breath. She would deal with it if it became a fact. The VP shortlist hadn’t been announced. Washington was a hotbed for rumours. Nothing might come of it.
Her phone chimed. Her Uber was here, waiting out front. The driver poked her head out of the window and waved. Sharmila greeted her and jumped in.
As soon as the Uber left the neighbourhood and crossed the tiny Dumbarton Bridge over Rock Creek Parkway, it became snared in heavy traffic. Cursing their bumper-to-bumper progress, her mind went back to the conversation with Lionel before he had dropped the James Stewart bombshell on her. Guilt resurfaced. Was what she was doing wrong? It wasn’t a crime to be in a committed relationship and find someone else attractive. She wasn’t the first person it had happened to. And it wasn’t unusual for her to go to events solo. That they weren’t codependent was something they both appreciated. Often, they criticised couples who seemed unable to function solo socially and agreed that they were thankful they weren’t that way.
But even as Sharmila tried to justify her actions, she felt a fluttering in her stomach. What was Jake’s house like? Would he be charmed or find it odd that she was wearing a sari? She took a quick peek at herself in her phone camera and told herself she looked fine. She continued to give herself a talking-to as she stepped out of the Uber.
There was no reason to see this brunch as anything out of the ordinary, and if she had to be excited about someone, it should be Vikram Shah and not Jake Thacker.
Excerpted with permission from Heartlines: A Love Triangle, Chandrani Ghosh, Bloomsbury India.
