Page 28 of The Matchmaker

“I just went online, and it looks like she’s deleted all her social media accounts. She must feel horrible. I doubt she’ll be eager to talk to the press.”

With or without her comment, though, Logan’s got a certifiably juicy story now. A Piyar agency match implodes on the eve of the wedding. That’ll blow my reputation to smithereens.

“We should keep the PR agency in the loop. Sounds like we might need them,” I say.

“Good idea. I’ll give Sherri a call,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re not panicking. It’s making me feel a little less manic.”

Iampanicking. It’s bubbling inside of me like water in a boiling pot. But I’m the boss. I’m in charge. I must stay calm.

I put my phone away as a flash of lightning slices through the sky, followed by the distant rumble of thunder.

It’s terrible how things went down for Avani and Dev, but it’s like Genevieve and Borzu said: Our agency did nothing wrong. Still, just to be sure we didn’t miss anything, I’ll swing by the agency after dinner. I’ll grab the paper files for Avani and Dev from my desk. Maybe there’s a stray thought or note in there that I wrote down. Maybe it’ll jog my memory. Help me figure out who could have had the motive to destroy their wedding. This is too important to leave any stone unturned.

The scent of mango and garlic greet me when I get back into the house. My shoulders relax a little. I’m glad I stuck around this evening, despite my misgivings. I made progress with Nina. Got some much-needed downtime with my niece.

“How’s the painting coming?” I hurry back to Lilah. “I can’t—”

Stepping into the family room, I freeze. Lilah is painting. Not on the white paper I’d set out on the coffee table. A brown tree trunk drips down the gray living room wall. Green streaks swirl off branches. She turns to me and grins.

“We painted the mural like this!”

A mural. How did I miss that key word? She’d created a wall painting at school, and now she’s re-creating it. Here. On Khala’s wall. Inches from a framed Jamali worth over five thousand dollars.

Before I can respond, I hear footsteps. Nina emerges from the hallway, her hair wrapped in a towel.

“A shower was exactly what I needed.” She walks into the family room. “Lilah, can you…”

Her words die on her tongue. She takes in the scene before her. Speechless, she turns to me. I want to sink into the floor. I want to vaporize.

“I had a quick call I needed to take, and…”

“Right. A call.” Her expression shifts.

“I’ll get a sponge.” My chest stings. “The paint’s water-based, isn’t it?”

“I’ve got it, Nura. Thanks for yourhelp.”

The words land like a punch. I deserve it. I screwed up. Instead of helping my cousin get some downtime, I added more to her plate.

I’ve never felt so relieved to leave Khala’s home after dinner. The wind has picked up, and the thunder that was rumbling in the distance earlier is growing louder. My hair whips against my face. As I turn on the car, thick raindrops splash against the windshield.

I can’t stop kicking myself. I’d extended a fragile olive branch toward Nina, and then I’d carelessly stepped on it andsnapped it in two. Why hadn’t I waited and called Darcy back later? Sure, she said it was important, but watching Lilah was important too. Now the peace I barely glimpsed is gone.

I turn out of Khala’s neighborhood and head toward the agency. The rain is coming down heavier. I press my wipers to their highest setting.

After parking the car, I jump out, shielding my face with my arm against the onslaught of rain, and dash toward the front door.In and out,I promise myself as the sky thunders. I do not want to be stuck in this storm.

I’m so preoccupied, I almost don’t notice it.

Not as I duck under the awning and pull out my keys. Not as I stick them into the lock.

The note.

It’s wedged into the door. I pull it out. It’s a flyer. Advertising a new eco-friendly dry cleaner. Opening next to the overpriced taco fusion restaurant, adjacent to the barre studio.

I’m about to crumple it when I see the message scrawled on the back side in marker. Ink trailing down like mascara. The words barely legible, yet unmistakable:

Nura Khan, I See You.

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