Page 18 of The Matchmaker

I head out of the hall and bypass the black-clad security guards monitoring guests entering and exiting the festivities. I need to find a quieter place, at least for a little while.

“Nura!” The bride’s mother sidesteps security and hurries toward me. She looks stunning in a silver sari. “I thought I saw you.”

She wraps me in a warm embrace.

“You are glowing,” I tell her.

“Inside and out. Truly,” she says. “You know how high-strung Avani can be. The life coach you suggested changed everything. And then—Dev. He is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. It’s like my daughter says, you really are magic.”

“Avani and Dev are a great fit,” I tell her. “All of us at the agency wish them both a lifetime of happiness.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.” She looks at me anxiously. “You’re not leaving yet, are you? My sister is dying for you to meet her daughter. Avani’s success churned up a lot of interest in you. After the rasms are taken care of, we can make some connections with a few interested parties?”

Afterthe rituals? I try to not wince. At the rate things are going, I’ll be here past midnight.

“I nearly forgot.” Her eyes light up. “That journalist who came by to interview us was absolutely lovely. Of course we sang your praises to him.”

“Journalist?”

“The one fromRolling Stone. He reached out last night to see if he could get some quotes on our experience working with you.”

“He’s here?”

“Hewas.” She glances around, then back at me. “Is that all right? I’m sorry—I assumed you knew.”

“It’s fine,” I lie.

“Rolling Stone. Well done, dear. Avani was thrilled.”

My headache pierces my temples. One more thing to deal with. I promise her I’ll be back, and cross the hotel lobby. When I enter the lounge, the hoopla drifts down to a faint rumble, and the lighting is blessedly dim. I take a seat at abarstool, retrieve my emergency stash of Advil, and ask the bartender for a club soda.

Pulling out my phone, I text Azar.

You’re late.

His reply is immediate.

On my way!

I purse my lips. He was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Three dots appear on the screen again and then:

Azar:I’ll make it up to you. Promise. Save me some Brazilian steak?

Nura:They haven’t even served appetizers yet.

Azar:So I’m NOT late! Ha! Be there in a sec

I down my medicine and hope it kicks in soon. Once Azar’s here, I’ll feel more settled.

I typeRolling Stone, Logan Wilsoninto my phone’s search engine as I flag down the bartender.

“Another club soda. With lime, please?”

“Why not an actual drink?” a voice says.

There’s a man three stools down. I hadn’t noticed him before. He’s white, with brown hair parted to the side and piercing blue eyes.

“Last time I checked, this is a drink.” I raise my glass.

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