Page 45 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

Deepa faltered. Her words literally got lost on the way from her brain to her tongue, and she floundered for a second before rallying. “It's been a week,” she managed, pulling out her flirtiest smile. “Surely not even your lot move as fast as that.”

Slinging one arm over the back of the cushions, Roz rolled her shoulders and offered an easy smile. “I’ve seen it happen. Some women skip the engagement and go straight to living together, moving in and getting all domestic-like. No one looks twice at two unmarried women the way they do at a mixed couple.”

“Would you do that?” Deepa asked, powerfully curious and equally terrified of the answer.

Roz shrugged, her smile so carefully constructed that it had to be a front. “In theory? I suppose so. Never met a woman who put me to the test before.”

“But you’d consider it,” Deepa pressed.

Before Roz could answer, Deepa’s mother announced the meal was ready, and any potential marriage proposals were thankfully put on hold.

???

“I like her,” Deepa’s mother murmured, drawing her close to say their goodbyes after tea. At the kitchen sink, Cherie and Roz washed the dishes, Roz studiously scrubbing each one clean before handing them over for Cherie to dry. “Was that what was worrying you earlier, that I would not like your new friend because she is a boxer and a mechanic and has no interest in a husband? I have always liked the friends you let me meet. You are a good judge of character, my dove. I will like anyone who makes you happy.”

“I wasn’t worried about anything,” Deepa said with a smile, as if she could lie to her mother. “But I’m glad you like Roz.”

“I see she is important to you. And I see she makes you smile.” Stepping back, her mother patted Deepa’s cheek with a nod. “You should smile more often. Those men at your club, they are not good enough for you. I do not like to see you waste your time with them.”

“It’s not wasted time, mama. They’re paying my rent.”

Shaking her head, her mother dismissed that old argument rather than rehashing it for the hundredth time, only because Roz and Cherie were around. She preferred not to cause that kind of fuss in front of company.

“I will be back next Saturday,” she said instead. “And you will call me if you need anything, yes?”

“Of course, mama, but I’m sure we won’t. You made enough food to feed us for a month.”

“Anything,” her mother repeated, tapping one finger against Deepa’s chest. “Anything at all.”

If Deepa ever found the words to explain to her mother that she was cursed, then yes, perhaps she would call and say so. As a last resort. Until then, she would exhaust literally every other alternative and break the curse without ever burdening her mother with that knowledge. With any luck, now that Roz hadher mother’s approval, her curse-breaking would be as simple as their next kiss.

“Yes, mama,” she promised, like a liar, with a brilliant vermillion smile. “I’ll call.”

With her mother’s departure, Roz finished the dishes and joined her by the door, slinging an arm low around Deepa’s waist and a kiss to her shoulder. Deepa worried for a moment that Roz was going to revisit that whole not-quite-a-proposal conversation, but it was the sort of worry that was easily confused with anticipation.

“Don't think I’ve ever had anyone’s mother’s blessing before,” Roz noted, endlessly amused.

“Like I said, she’s getting increasingly desperate.”

Deepa softened her words into a light tease, putting her arms around Roz so they stood face to face, their embrace close but loose.

“You know, your accent comes out stronger when you’re with her,” Roz told her, her attention on Deepa’s lips. “Sounds pretty as anything. I love it.”

Deepa stole a quick kiss, enjoying the flirtatious banter, but Roz dropped her gaze, something more serious on her mind. Deepa sobered, outlining patterns against the lapels of Roz’s jacket.

“The thing is,” Roz said, “is I could provide for you.”

Deepa’s heart stuttered, as anxious as she was thrilled, resulting in tumultuous confusion.

“I make a perfectly good living wage,” Roz continued, running her hands up Deepa’s arms, “and I could support myself and a wife in a little house with a garden, and that would be enough for me. For plenty of folks. I know you want bigger things, and that’s fine. I get it. But I could give you a comfortable enough life if you’d let me.”

“I don’t want to be comfortableenough,” Deepa said with a dry mouth. “I want everything there is to have.” Before Roz could say anything, Deepa lifted one hand to forestall her, pressing over her heart. “I don’t believe that makes us incompatible,” she said quickly. “Maybe the odds are stacked a little higher against us, but the odds have always been against people like us. We’ve beat them thus far, and I have no intention of laying down and simply accepting what the world offers me. We can beat them the rest of the way.”

“You want more than I have to give, but you don’t take that as a sign to look elsewhere?” Roz asked carefully.

“No, because Idowant what you’re offering. I just want more. And I think that's a scenario we can make work.” Deepa paused. “Are you actually proposing to me right now?”

“Don’t think I can propose without a ring.”

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