Page 18 of Not Your Basic Love Story

And there he was.

His black hair was combed and shined, his beard was trimmed along his jawline, and his brown eyes smouldered beneath dark brows and lashes. He wore the same clothes from the plane, freshly dry-cleaned. His shoes matched his watch, visible since his sleeves were once again rolled up to reveal his sexy forearms.

Several other women turned to gawk at him, and I hurried to swallow the crab cake in my mouth.

He sidled up to me, a warm smile on his face. His hand wrapped around my waist, so familiar, and it immediately made me feel comfortable having him there. Not for one moment did he seem out of place, as if he’d planned to be there all along. Gently, he pressed his lips to my forehead, and then I was lost in his eyes again.

“Who’s your new beau?” Nicole asked, appearing out of nowhere with Chaz trailing one step behind, his hands full with a plate of food. Her smile was so phony it was nauseating.

Dev reached out and introduced himself, shaking both her hand and Chaz’s.

Seeming to sense my discomfort, Dev jumped right into professional small-talk mode with Chaz, and the two delved into a conversation about hockey. Nicole grew bored quickly, as she couldn’t get a word in edgewise and was not used to being on the perimeter of the attention circle.

Finally, she interrupted. “Chaz, baby, would you mind getting me a drink?”

Chaz’s hands were still full of his plate of food. He looked down at the plate, then up to Nicole, who met him with another fakey-fake smile.

“I need a drink, too. Dev? Drink?” I suggested.

“Sure!” he replied. Then he, Chaz, and I made our way towards the bar, eager to be away from Nicole and her judging stare.

Chaz turned out to be a super nice guy. What he was doing with Nicole, I didn’t quite understand. Whatever. Not my business. I grabbed another glass of champagne, and Dev took a club soda in a short glass. When I raised an eyebrow, he said he got tired of explaining he didn’t like to drink. It did, indeed, look like he was drinking vodka. I silently commended him, glad his clothes would stay vomit-free this evening.

We walked away, and I began subtly pointing out the people I knew to catch him up on relevant gossip. Eventually, we found Charlotte and Hannah, who were more than welcoming to Dev. They didn’t question why I had brought my vacation fling to the party or why he had agreed to come. Dev chatted them each up, asking about what they did for work, listening to them talk about their kids. I learned as much about him from their follow-up questions as they did.

Dev’s family lived on an acreage outside of Surrey, where they grew blueberries. His family also owned several automotive shops and other businesses throughout mainland British Columbia. His grandparents had immigrated from the Punjab region of India in the early twentieth century, and he was the third generation of Indo-Canadians in his family. I found that very interesting, as my father had immigrated from the United States (his father from France), and my mother was a second-generation Canadian, her family having been from Germany and Russia.

Dev joked about how his family was more Canadian than mine, but Hannah was quick to interject. Her parents had immigrated from Korea and worked hard for their citizenship, and, in her opinion, that did not make them any less Canadian than others whose families had been here longer. We agreed, of course. Charlotte argued that if anyone here was more Canadian, it was her, as she was one-quarter Métis on her dad’s side.

Dev and Hannah chatted a little about their experiences belonging to a minority religion in a country that, though secular, still revolved around Christian holidays. Hannah was Buddhist, and Dev’s family was Sikh. I didn’t know much about Sikhism, but I was curious and interested in learning. As the conversation continued, I realized how privileged I was that the cultural aspects of Christianity were respected enough to warrant national holidays, among other benefits. Personally, I didn’t practice religion, but I’d been raised Catholic and still celebrated Christmas and Easter. Mostly for the gifts and chocolate, though.

We were interrupted by an announcement introducing Miranda and Derek as husband and wife. I breathed a sigh of relief; our conversation was starting to feel a bit too deep for a wedding. I hadn’t expected Dev to receive the third degree on his heritage and faith. “Sorry about that,” I whispered as we watched the bride and groom enter.

“It’s no problem. It doesn’t look like they know a lot of brown people,” he commented. I looked around the room, noticing for the first time that almost everyone who didn’t work there was white, other than Hannah. It hadn’t initially dawned on me as strange, but now I found it unsettling seeing it from Dev’s perspective.

Angelina came up beside us.

“Hey Dev!” she said as if he was always supposed to be there. God, I was really starting to love this girl!

The two of them chatted about nothing in particular, sharing laughs. I stood by and watched, completely transfixed by Dev and his ability to feel so at ease in any situation. He was such a stark contrast to my awkward self.

Miranda and Derek worked their way down the receiving line, finally making it to us. I hugged Derek as Miranda shook Dev’s hand. Then Miranda hugged me, whispering, “He’s so hot!” in my ear. She held my hands and gave them a squeeze, and then was ushered past us to more people all waiting for their moment to congratulate them.

Eventually we made our way into the dining room. I sat at the head table and looked out across the room nervously, but was happy to see Dev seated next to Chaz. They would be fine. I relaxed.

Toasts. Drinks. More toasts. Food. More drinks. Finally, we were released from our strict seating arrangements. I found Dev, who had somehow managed to end up with Miranda’s mother, who was no doubt talking his ear off. The conversation I walked in on had something to do with how she once lived in a building that always smelled like curry. For all that is holy, Susan, please don’t say anything offensive.

“Dev! Glad I found you. Oh, hey Susan! Sorry, I have to steal Dev away,” I said, grabbing his hand and tugging him along. Once I got him out of that uncomfortable situation, I apologized profusely. All he could do was laugh. “I’m glad you have such a good sense of humour about it,” I said, still feeling guilty for Susan’s behaviour.

I looked up at him and smiled but noticed a glint of something amiss in his eyes. Was it something Susan had said? Before I could ask, another announcement was called about the bouquet being thrown. Angelina grabbed me and pulled me into the throng. Miranda pointed at me and winked, then turned and tossed her beautiful peach-coloured rose bouquet over her shoulder. Well, I’ll be damned if I didn’t catch it.

Bouquet in hand, I pivoted and looked over my shoulder at Dev. He was clapping and smiling, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Angelina interrupted, giving me a big hug and squealing so loud in my ear that I probably lost a few of my higher frequencies.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. Dev was the perfect gentleman, the perfect date. I couldn’t have asked for more. Then, why was there a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, the feeling that something was wrong? I could sense it, in the way he put his hand on my back, to the way his eyes didn’t crinkle when he smiled, to the somewhat looser grip he had on my hand when he held it in his.

Miranda and Derek shared their first dance, which began as a sappy love song and then exploded into a hilarious dance routine that probably took weeks to master. Others began joining them on the dance floor. Seeing Miranda so happy, so in love, reminded me of what was important tonight. It wasn’t about me, it wasn’t about Dev, it was about Miranda; and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from showing up for my best friend in the whole world on one of the most important nights of her life.

Despite my discomfort with dancing in public, I grabbed Dev and pulled him out with me. The music was great, the atmosphere was perfect, and after a few minutes, everything seemed back to normal with Dev and me. I began to wonder if I’d imagined the whole thing or if I was creating a problem where there was none. According to my ex, it wouldn’t be the first time. Then again, that was when he was gaslighting me…

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