Page 29 of Best Kept Secret

"What?" I cried out, sitting up. "Nothing is going on.Nothing."

Roxy waved a hand. "Well, we all see the flares between you, enough to burn the house down."

I sank back in the chaise lounge. "He's with Fallon, Roxy, that much is obvious. She has a PhD, and…look at everyone in his family. They're all well-educated, while I didn't go beyond high school."

"That's because you were learning in professional kitchens," Roxy protested. "And you got into CIA. Come on, Mira, that's nothing to sneeze about."

That was what I told myself when my parents and relatives whispered about how I wasn't bright enough to go to university. I hadn't wanted to go because my parents had expected me to stay at home—only then would they have paid for school. Ineeded to get the hell out of their house. Asha had just found a job, and I'd moved in with her. We'd been each other's safe space—she felt guilty she hadn't been able to get me out of that house earlier, but there was nothing she could do, nothing I could've done. Asha had needed my parents to pay for her education.

And we knew that the only way was to leave; cut all ties.

When we were younger, I'd tried to get the authorities involved, and it had backfired. My mother was the quintessential enabler, while my father….

Now,hewanted Pari. My heart stopped. Hell no! I'd die before I let that happen. That was why I'd come to Beau. That was why I'd rather lose Pari than have her go through what Asha and I had.

Beau came out, knocking on the glass door of the porch to warn us, probably thinking we were bitching about Fallon, and wanting us to be careful.

I'd guessed right; Pari and Fallon came out with him. Pari immediately leaped on the chaise lounge with me and hugged me. "Miramashi, ami toke bhalashi."

The correct pronunciation was, "ami tomake bhalobashi," but Pari was still figuring Bengali out. She'd heard me say, "I love you," in my native language often enough that she repeated it the best she could. The fact that she was saying it now, out of the blue, told me that something had unsettled her.

Asha and I spoke fluent Bengali, but we hadn't tried to talk in Bengali with Pari. I remonstrated myself and promised to do better. We sang songs, and she even had a favorite lullaby—I hoped that I'd be able to keep her connected through food, music, and language with our Indian heritage. I was born and raised in America and hadn't been to India in years, though, when Asha and I were little, we used to go to Calcutta once every two years. But after our grandparents who lived there passed away, we stopped going.

"What was that?" Beau asked as he sat down on the lounge chair next to us. Fallon joined him, settling in beside him. It was as if she was trying to tell me she had a claim on him. I wanted to tell her he was all hers. I wasn't interested in men who made me feel small. I'd had a lifetime of that with my father, and I didn't need a boyfriend, lover, or niece's father to make me feel like that.

"That's Bengali forI love you."

"How sweet," Fallon remarked, leaning into Beau.

Girl, why don't you just start dry-humping him, for God's sake.

"I better get dessert ready." I kissed the top of Pari's head. "You want to help me make whip cream, Pari?"

Pari brightened. "Lick the mixer?"

"Yes, you can lick the whisk," I assured her. I picked her up as I stood.

"You should let her walk, Mira," Fallon stated, "It's not good for—"

"I know what's good for my niece," I blurted out, sick and tired of the woman. "I'll carry her when I feel like it.Please, stop telling me how to care for her."

Everyone looked surprised at my outburst. I knew I came across as being timid, but enough was fucking enough.

"I just meant—" Fallon began but was interrupted by Beau, "Mira, she's just being helpful."

"I don't need her help, Beau.You'rethe one who needs it, isn't that why you asked a psychologist over?" I reminded him pleasantly. "Come on, myShona, let's go play with cream."

"Can Ghoshu have a bite, too?" Pari wanted to know.

I nuzzled her nose with mine as we walked. "Absolutely. Rabbits love berries."

"And cream," Pari finished.

By the time dessert was served—a fresh berry tart that was so damn good everyone went for seconds—I could feel the tension still lingering in the room, thick like the humid summer air outside. Fallon wasn't impressed, or at least, she wouldn't let herself be. And for all my efforts and false bravado in asking her to shut up, I was still bracing myself for the inevitable critique.

As we finished up, Beau caught my eye, giving a slight nod. I had no idea what he meant by that, but I was pretty pissed off with him and ignored it. I knew this was coming. Everyone always doubted me. Even Asha, who loved me, worried that I'd never make enough money to live a decent life as a cook. This dinner was my quiet way of fighting back, of showing off my skills in both food preparation and baby-rearing.

"You ready for bath and bedtime?" I ruffled Pari's hair.

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