Page 36 of Knot So Romantic

“Looks like you could use an extra pair of hands,” I say. “I can hold the fabric steady for you while you work on the hem. Would that help?”

Kavita’s eyes light up with relief. “Actually, that would be a huge help. It’s hard to do this on my own. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

I smile. “Not at all. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

I position myself next to Kavita, gently holding the fabric in place as she works on stitching the lace over the hem.

As I watch her nimble fingers work, my mind drifts back to the moment she landed on my lap. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stand still. I can’t help but wonder: if her mother hadn’t called, would we have kissed?

I know she called me a friend, but I’ve spent so many nights lying awake, thinking about the spark that ignites between us every time we meet. It’s rekindled feelings I haven’t experienced in years.

Whenever I close my eyes, it’s her face I see, her laughter that echoes in my mind. It makes me want to shed the cautious, reserved shell I’ve been in since my divorce.

Kavita clears her throat, and I realize the fabric has slipped from my hand. Quickly, I snap out of my thoughts and refocus on holding the material steady.

“Everything okay?” she asks, glancing up at me.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble, hoping she can’t read the thoughts racing through my mind. “Just got distracted for a second.”

She’s finally done, and she scrutinizes it to see if it looks all right. Finally satisfied, she says, “I think this looks fine. I mean, it doesn’t come that close to what we had, but it’s still pretty. And we’re almost on time!”

“Well done!” I say.

She gives me a beaming smile. “All thanks to you.” She heads off to pack the lehenga while I make my way over to the pantry.

I find tea bags on the shelf and set about making some tea. When I get back to her, she’s already changed into a different outfit, her lehenga is packed, and she is ready to go.

“Would you like some tea?” I offer.

She looks at me gratefully. “That would be awesome!” And then she hugs me, literally melting against me as she gives me a tight embrace. She steps back. “Thank you for helping me!”

Then, she takes the tea I hold out and takes a long sip, color slowly returning to her cheeks.

I ask, “How will you deliver the lehenga?”

“I don’t know,” she says, taking another long sip of her tea. She glances at her watch. “I only have about ten minutes to get there. That’s not much time.”

“Can I give you a ride?”

She looks at me quizzically, eyeing my workout clothes. I know I’m in no position to take her, especially since I don’t have my car with me.

“I still remember how to ride your scooter,” I add with a grin.

She laughs—the first I’ve heard since I walked in the door, and it warms my heart in a way nothing has in what feels like a long time.

CHAPTER 15

Kavita

Not only did Neel’s arrival help solve my worries about the lehenga, but I don’t know if I could have done anything without him this morning. He showed up at just the right time, helped with the lehenga, and even made me tea. I’m so grateful he came, even though I’m not sure why he was here.

I’ve been trying to act cool about the kiss, but seeing him this morning almost made me lose my composure. My heart beats faster every time I see him.

The lehenga is distraction enough for now as I find myself precariously perched on the back of my scooter, facing backward with my back pressed against Neel’s. The enormous lehenga sprawls across my lap, a voluminous cloud of fabric that completely blocks my view. I clutch the precious garment tightly, already feeling the strain in my arms from keeping it secure.

“Are you okay back there?” Neel calls over his shoulder as he starts the scooter.

“I think so,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel. The truth is, I’m terrified of dropping the lehenga or losing my balance. I had considered calling a cab, but at this early hour and with such short notice, it seemed impossible. Plus, the thought of cramming this massive dress into a small cab seemed even more daunting.