Daisy groaned. “I don’t want to get married, but if I ever did, it would be to someone interesting, someone who takes risks.”

“Accountants take risks.”

“Adding numbers by hand instead of using a calculator? I’m not talking about that kind of risk. I’m talking take-your-breath-away risks. Unexpected risks.” She popped a fluffy pav in her mouth. The delicious breakfast treat was one of her favorites, and no one made them like Layla’s mom, who often dropped by with food when her dad was away.

“You’re talking about Liam.” Layla knew all about Daisy’s recent encounters with Liam and had not been impressed.

“You should have seen him . . .” Daisy allowed herself a small smile. “He looks like Hrithik Roshan in Mohenjo Daro.”

“If I had seen him, especially when he showed up at your office after you told him you never wanted to see him again, he wouldn’t be standing.”

“The first time I saw him was straight out of Bollywood,” Daisy continued. “One minute I’m ordinary me, stressing because Tyler dragged me to the pitch session even though he knows I’m an introvert at heart, breaking the pad dispenser, watching my ex-boyfriend and my old boss going at it in the restroom, running through the conference center with an armload of pads, and the next I’m kissing the man I hate most in front of the man who broke my heart and the man I’m supposed to marry.”

“Orson didn’t break your heart,” Layla countered. “You weren’t into that relationship at all. You were just tired of bad dates and Orson was—”

“Nice.”

“I was going to say available. But ‘nice’ will do. Also the word ‘boring’ comes to mind. After our first double date, Sam said he couldn’t handle another. He said he wanted to shoot himself when Orson described his favorite art house film as a two-and-a-half-hour phantasmagoria of bourgeoisie misery, and then proceeded to outline it for us miserable scene by miserable scene.”

“It was a good film.” Daisy drummed her thumb on the steering wheel, willing the traffic to start.

“You texted me ‘help’ twenty times from the theater. You said you wanted to stick needles in your eyes.”

Daisy bristled. “We all have to make sacrifices in the name of love.”

“But that’s the point. You didn’t love Orson. If you did, you wouldn’t have come out with me to Larry’s Liquid Lounge the night after you broke up. You wouldn’t have hooked up with that dude who said he was about to be deployed and it was his last night in the city.”

“I thought I was doing something good for my country,” Daisy retorted. “What if he never came home again?”

“If you’d really loved Orson you would have been sitting in front of the TV in your pajamas, eating ice cream, feeding Max pakoras, and watching a Marvel movie marathon. Look what happened when Sam and I broke up. I spent a week eating dal and drinking vodka until I passed out in a pool of vomit on the floor of my parents’ restaurant. That’s true love.”

“You’re not selling it very well,” Daisy said dryly.

Finally the car in front of her started to move, and her Mini kicked into gear. “Love takes commitment. You know I have issues.”

“I know you do,” Layla said gently. “Every time I come to your place and see you and your dad kicking around in that big empty house, I feel your pain. But he’s finally moving on. Don’t you want to move on, too? Maybe the perfect apartment is out there, or even the perfect man—someone who makes you happy, who cares for you, and makes you laugh.” She hesitated. “Maybe Roshan is the one.”

Liam had made her laugh, but she suspected Layla wouldn’t want to know that. “My dad thought my mom was the one, and look how that turned out. I’m happy to stay single, but I am going to string out the fake fiancé thing at least until Dad is back from his trip. I haven’t been accosted by any aunties since the conference. It’s been positively peaceful.”

“You’d just better hope no one puts two and two together. If your dad thought you were with Liam after what he did . . .”

“I’d just tell him it wasn’t real. Who would believe Liam and I would ever get together?”

* * *

• • •

DAISY was in the zone. At least she was in the zone until someone tapped her on the shoulder and she felt, rather than heard, the rumble of a voice behind her. With an irritated huff, she pulled off her noise-canceling headphones.

“Yes?”

Hunter Cole, CFO—a man so blond and beautiful he had no business being in a company filled with geeks—held out his computer. “My laptop isn’t working. Someone said you were in IT. The screen froze, and I’ve got the spinning wheel . . .”

Daisy’s mouth opened and closed again. She didn’t do well around people like Hunter—confident, beautiful, popular people who were spatially aware and had never once tripped going up stairs, stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, or bashed their head on a cupboard door. With their perfect bodies and toned muscles, they made her feel clumsy and awkward, the ten pakora pounds she could never lose a glaring signal that she was not one of them, if they hadn’t guessed that already from the nonsensical words that came out of her mouth when they were around.

Liam was one of them, but she’d never felt the same way around him, like the clumsiness and the lost words vanished the moment he walked in the door, and all that was left was the Daisy inside who was smart enough to do the puzzles he brought her, funny enough to make him laugh, and interesting enough that he would blow off Sanjay to listen to whatever she had to say.

“Seriously, man?” Josh shot out of his chair in the nearby cubicle. “Asking her to fix your computer is the equivalent of asking a Michelin starred chef to wash the dishes.” He frowned at Hunter, folding his arms across a chest that was only half the size and lacking any of Hunter’s definition. “I thought Finance had its own IT people downstairs. What are you doing up here?”