Page 93 of Not Your Basic Love Story

I nodded, not sure if I could find words. My mother joined us, and the two matriarchs shared a look at each other before turning their attention back to me, glowing with pride. It was enough to make me blush. Time to get out of there.

One by one, my bridesmaids entered the building, followed by the mothers, which left me last, the doors held open. I took a moment to breathe, to feel the sun on my face, to relish the last few seconds I’d have alone that day. Then I walked inside.

I’d hoped to see Dev before the ceremony, to share a moment with him, but it was tradition to not see him until we were up at the altar. Shawan and I had gone over the intricacies of everything the day she’d brought me to the temple.

My father stood by the door to the main room, a proud look on his face. Smiling, I slipped off my white lace flats and took his arm. He patted my hand and looked down at me, eyes twinkling, and my chest swelled with elation that we were finally here at this moment. I realized then, as long I’d been dreaming of my wedding, he had been, too. Had he been imagining this moment since I was just a baby? Was it okay that it was happening in a different culture, a different religion than he’d imagined? The proud look on his face removed any doubts in my mind.

We entered the room and people kneeling on the floor turned to look. I scanned past a sea of bright colours, faces both familiar and not, eyes quickly finding their way down the path to where Dev knelt. He was facing away from me. All I could see was the cream colour of his top, contrasted with the bright red of his turban and sash draped around his neck.

All I wanted was for him to turn, to look at me, to see me in the beautiful clothing that meant so much to him and his culture. All good things come to those who wait, I tried to remind myself, adhering to the ceremonial customs.

Dad left me with a kiss on my hands, and I knelt next to Dev. Close, but not close enough. There was nothing more I wanted than to reach out and touch him, to feel his skin on mine. The electricity buzzing between us, I was sure, could be felt by everyone in the room.

Dev glanced towards me; his mouth pursed as if fighting a grin. Our eyes met briefly before flicking forward, trying to remain stoic and solemn as the officiant began the ceremony. Prayers were read, songs were sung, and then Dev and I made our way to our feet. A red cloth hung from Dev and trailed behind him to me, wrapped around my hands. He proceeded to walk slowly around the altar that held their holy book, me one step behind. It was all I could do to keep my gaze low and not look up to the crowd to catch Miranda’s or my parents’ eyes. After that there was more kneeling, more singing, and all of it in Punjabi. Right around when I was beginning to get antsy, the parshad was served. More weddings should have breaks for snacks.

Though the event was supposed to be solemn, inside, I was giddy. We were one step, one song, one minute closer to our forever after. When the documents were brought to us, I couldn’t contain the excitement rising in my chest as I signed my new name for the first time. It all felt surreal.

Finally, it was time to exchange rings. Dev and I turned to face each other. He looked at me fully for the first time since the ceremony had begun, and I did the same. From his red turban, to his gorgeous brown eyes, his impeccably maintained beard framing those full lips I knew so well, down to the cream tunic with intricate designs along it… he looked incredible; like royalty. Judging by how his pupils dilated and his mouth parted when he saw me, he felt the same way. I blushed, remembering suddenly how many eyes were upon us.

Jag approached and handed Dev and me both a tiny box. We’d decided to say our vows in Punjabi, me repeating the words as best I could manage as I slipped Dev’s ring over his finger. I’d designed the ring myself using the 3D printer and had it custom-made. It looked like it had been beaten together the old-fashioned way, with a hammer and anvil. It was a little understated but incredibly masculine and suited him perfectly.

Afterwards, Dev opened the box for my ring and removed it. He held it up, ready to slip on as he repeated after the officiant. But the ring in his hand, it wasn’t mine. Gone was the giant, gaudy jewel. In its place was a gorgeously intricate band of woven white gold, tendrils wrapping around themselves until they joined at the center to hold a perfectly reasonable one carat diamond, with tiny diamonds studded throughout the band. It looked vintage, like he could have gotten it from Margaret herself, but it shone as if it were new.

It was perfect.

I looked up at him, tears welling in my eyes. He winked at me and slid it onto my finger. It fit as if it had always been there.

One by one, our parents approached and adorned us with garlands of flowers around our necks. My dad was crying, something I was becoming accustomed to.

We stood and turned to face the assembled group. Everyone from Dev’s parents to my own, to my friends old and new, to the various strangers who were now family, they all looked at us with so much promise and hope, so much joy and elation. My chest swelled with pride, with gratitude, and with the sense that this moment could not have been more perfect.

Dev and I exited the temple, but he kept going all the way out the front doors.

We stepped into the perfect, clear day, the sun nearly overhead and reflecting brightly on the white walls of the temple. I turned to Dev, confused, unsure if this was part of the ceremony or what was going on.

He looked down at me with those giant brown eyes, the smile that played upon his lips full of promises and future delights.

“You may now kiss the bride,” he whispered, just for the two of us.

Resting one hand on his chest, my other found its way to his beard, my fingers trailing along the jawline I’d memorized by now. He pulled me closer, his hands wrapping their way around my lower back.

As he bent down towards me, I lifted onto my tiptoes to meet him halfway.

EPILOGUE

I always had a plan. Always. One year ago, I sat down on a plane, salty about the empty seat next to me. If that seat hadn’t been empty, if my life had gone according to plan, I never would have met Dev.

Now, the empty seat next to me brought no anxiety. I’d boarded early, as always, though I’d forgone the airport beer. It was no longer a necessity of travel.

People shoved past me, maneuvering their luggage as best as they could down the narrow aisles. There was an old couple struggling to read their tickets, followed by a big buff guy who would easily take up two seats with his muscles, and then a young family, the woman with her newborn babe wrapped tight to her chest.

Right when I was beginning to wonder where he was, he appeared. Tall, dark, handsome. All of the clichés.

My heart skipped a beat, and I momentarily forgot how to breathe. I thought I’d be immune to his charm by now, but I wasn’t. His tasteful V-neck shirt hugged his torso, stretching around his biceps ever so slightly. His sleeves were rolled up, and I eyed those sexy forearms, gaze lingering, but only for an instant.

I looked up to see his dark eyes twinkling, the smile on his lips one of amusement.

“Is this seat taken?” He smirked. I shook my head but made no move to get up, forcing him to slide past me, that great ass of his only inches away from my face before he found his seat.

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