“No, Auntie-ji.”

“You’re a good girl.” Mehar Auntie patted her arm. “But you need a husband.” She turned to Layla’s mother, who was frowning at the closet door. “We need to find her a husband, Jana. Maybe when Nasir is out of hospital, you can start looking.”

Layla’s mother lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t think she needs our help.”

Layla felt the same prickling feeling she’d had as a child when she was caught doing something wrong. “You must be tired, Mom. Don’t let me keep you. I’ll just finish tidying up here and I’ll meet you at home.”

Mehar Auntie left to start the car and Layla followed her mother into the restaurant.

“We’re having a family dinner on Thursday to celebrate your father coming home,” her mother said. “Everyone is invited, including the man in the closet.”

Layla’s blood drained from her face. She didn’t even try to lie. “He was in a car accident. I was fixing him up. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“I already have the wrong idea, but if you think he’s a good man, and he cares about you, then he will come to meet the family and declare his intentions.”

Layla opened her mouth to tell her mother Sam didn’t eat Indian food, and closed it again. Her mother wouldn’t understand. In fact, no one she knew would understand. Family was everything. Traditions were important. No matter how bad things got, you didn’t cast them aside.

“He’ll be there,” she said with a conviction she didn’t feel in the least.

“I thought you weren’t dating anymore,” her mother said. “No more immature, selfish boyfriends. No more heartache. Your father and I were going to find a nice man for you—someone stable and serious who would be a good husband and father.”

“I know. I found Dad’s list.”

Her mother frowned. “What list?”

“He posted my marriage résumé online and sorted through all the responses to come up with a list of ten suitable candidates. I’ve been meeting with them.” It felt good to get the secret off her chest, but her mother didn’t seem to be happy that she had been trying to find a husband the traditional way.

“And the man in the closet? Is he one of them?”

“No.” She swallowed hard. “He shares the office upstairs with me. He’s the guy Dad had leased the space to before he decided to give it to me. He runs his own corporate restructuring business.”

Her mother patted her hand. “Meet the other men. If your father picked them, then they will all be nice boys.”

“Sam is nice,” she said feeling defensive. “He’s funny, protective, and kind and—”

“He’s hiding in the closet.”

“That’s because I pushed him in there and asked him to stay.” She glanced around for Mehar Auntie, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

Her mother sighed. “In all the years I’ve been with your father, never once have I wanted to hide him away. I was proud to call him my husband. You should feel proud of the man you choose to marry.”

“I’m not marrying him.” She fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “We’re just . . . I don’t know what we’re doing. There was an issue with the office, and a game we were playing . . .”

“I don’t like the sound of him.” Her mother pushed open the front door. “And I don’t like how you don’t know what relationship you have, or that you feel the need to hide it. If he’s just a one-night man—”

“One-night stand,” Layla corrected, although she didn’t know why. “And no, he’s not that.”

Sam was much more than a hookup, but where did he fall on the dating spectrum? She suddenly realized they’d never had a serious talk about their relationship, or what it meant for her search for a husband, or even how they were going to deal with the office when Royce returned. Now that her mother was asking the difficult questions, she couldn’t believe she’d made her search for a husband into a game. There were bigger issues at stake than who got the office. She was looking for someone with whom to share the rest of her life.

“The family will meet him and tell you what they think.”

Layla didn’t have to bring Sam to dinner to know what they would think. Her mother already had a bad impression of him. And if he didn’t eat with them, the family would think he was disrespectful. Not only that, once they found out about her father’s list, they would tell her to forget Sam and choose one of the men her father wanted her to meet.

“Don’t forget why you came home,” her mother said over her shoulder. “Not to go back to jobs that made you unhappy and men who couldn’t commit. You came to rebuild your life and put the past behind you. That won’t happen if you lose sight of your goals.”

“I like him, Mom.” She followed her mother into the parking lot. “He’s different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Then bring him to dinner on Thursday,” her mother said. “And let us see if he is worthy of my Layla.”

* * *

• • •

“BREAK out the champagne!”

Seemingly oblivious to the fact that there were other people training in the gym, Royce shouted Sam’s name as he wove his way through the punching bags, free weights, and cardio machines to the ring where Sam was sparring with Evan. Out of place in his pin-striped suit, pink shirt, pink and navy polka-dot tie, and a pair of sharply pointed tan leather shoes, Royce had a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other, despite the fact that it was seven A.M.

“What are you doing here?” Sam’s moment of distraction earned him a solid punch to the jaw, and he staggered back into the ropes.

“What the fuck, man?” He straightened and glared at Evan. “I was talking to Royce.”

“When you’re in the ring, you are in the ring. Fair game. Unless you want to tap out, and then I win.”

The last thing Sam wanted was to let Evan win. For the first time ever, he had gained the upper hand in a fight and he could almost taste the victory that he’d been denied for years.

“Gimme a minute, Royce.” He shook his head to stop the ringing in his ears.

“We’re on the short list for the Alpha Health Care contract!” Royce didn’t give minutes. He was all about Royce.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath. What had once seemed to be an unattainable goal was now within sight. He threw a victory punch that Evan easily avoided.