“If you were really getting married,” Liam said, “is it something you would want your groom to wear?”

She didn’t have to look at the sherwani. When she’d imagined her wedding, it had always included the beautiful and elaborate Indian wedding outfits she’d admired as a girl. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll wear it.”

She felt a curious, melty sensation inside but quickly pushed it away. Time to change the subject because she definitely didn’t want to remember that Liam—the Liam from before who’d been kind and thoughtful and caring. “Whatever.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s your fake wedding.”

Liam’s face shuttered, and in a second he wore his bad-boy persona again. “It comes with a sword, I’ll be happy to pay whatever she asks.”

“Don’t say that so loudly,” she warned.

“Why? Nothing is too good for my fake bride.”

• 12 •

 Wednesday, 6:49 P.M.

 DAISY: Confirming Rescheduled Date #2. Wed. 7:00 p.m. The Dosa Palace restaurant. El Camino Real. Objective: finish discussing dating plan, meet my cousin Amina.

 LIAM: Why are you texting a confirmation when I’m standing beside you in line?

 DAISY: I’m annoyed. We were supposed to finalize the plan in the clothing store.

 LIAM: I can’t help that I got hungry and Sam mentioned there was a great restaurant right across the street. I call that killing two birds with one stone.

 DAISY: I’d like to kill something right now and it’s not a bird.

 LIAM: I like this new dark and violent side of you. What would you do if I marked up your spreadsheet?

 DAISY: You wouldn’t dare.

Liam looked up from his phone. They were standing in line inside the restaurant and Daisy hadn’t spoken to him since she’d agreed to have their Date #2 dinner right after Date #1.

Run-down on the outside, with the ambiance of a noisy cafeteria inside, the Dosa Palace had no ostentatious decorations, and no fake statutes or paintings on the wall. Sam had said the restaurant was all about the food, and since Liam was all about eating, it was a perfect place for a starving man.

“Did you seriously just say that to me?” he teased.

Daisy had dared him to do lots of things over the years, from jumping off the roof to hiding under Sanjay’s bed, and he’d never failed to do them.

“I didn’t say it,” she snapped. “I texted it.”

“Since you’re so quick with the texts, you could have provided me with a little help when I was negotiating the price of my sherwani. I can’t believe how badly Deepa tried to rip me off.”

“Are you sulking?” She stared at him, incredulous. “The big venture capitalist who just closed the company’s fourth fund at $350 million is sulking because he was bested at negotiating the purchase of a traditional Indian wedding outfit for a fake wedding that will last ten minutes by a frail sixty-year-old woman for whom English is a second language?”

“She wasn’t frail.” Liam hadn’t given much thought to what he would wear for their quick civil ceremony. Good Irish boys wore a three-piece suit or a tux to their wedding with a green cravat or tie and maybe the addition of gold harp cuff links. But he’d never been a good Irish boy—at least not according to his father—and although the marriage was a sham, he liked the idea of honoring Daisy’s culture. The sword was just a bonus.

“What are you going to have?” Daisy asked as they approached the cashier. “I recommend the dosas and uthapams. The upma is a little bland, but the idli, vada, sambar, and chutneys are all good. The kesari is quite good, too, if you want sweet instead of spicy.”

“I’ll have the pork vindaloo. Extra hot.” He puffed out his chest. He’d acquired a taste for Indian food after the years he’d spent sharing meals at the Patel home, although he hadn’t had food as good in many years.

“It’s too hot for me the way they make it,” Daisy said. “I wouldn’t even consider asking them to raise the heat.”

“I ate at your house every night and your dad made his curry extra hot. I miss that burn.”

Daisy’s lips quirked at the corners. “He said it was extra hot so he didn’t crush your ego, but in fact he kept the heat down when you were around. What he called ‘extra hot’ is actually a restaurant mild. His real extra hot would blow your mind.”

“You don’t scare me,” Liam said. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“Stubborn and ungrateful.” Daisy smirked. “I’m going to enjoy listening to your screams of pain.”

“Is that your idea of a good date? Screams of pain?”

She smiled, amused. “I don’t date often. I usually just hook up with someone for the night. Orson was an unfortunate aberration that happened when I was feeling emotionally fragile after Layla and Sam got engaged.”

They reached the cash desk and Daisy placed her order with the cashier, a young woman of around eighteen with long, straight dark hair.

“So you hook up with strangers?” Liam asked in a hushed whisper as the cashier rang up their order. “Were you with someone last night?”

“Yes. His name is Max.” She pulled out her phone. “I have a selfie of us together.” She held it up for the cashier to see, keeping the screen away from Liam’s line of vision.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” the cashier said. “He’s got the nicest eyes.”

“Let me see.” Liam felt his protective instincts rise. “Who is he? Max who?”

“He doesn’t have a last name.”