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“There’s only one thing happening. Tomorrow I’m getting married to a man I don’t know and don’t love.” She paused. “Park for lunch?”
“I can’t today.” Davina pulled back. “I’ve got that teeth-whitening appointment at Happy Smiles.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I hope it goes well. Catch you later.”
Nisha’s morning flew by in a whirl of tinted moisturizers, lengthening mascaras, and plumping lipsticks. When lunchtime came, she picked up a sandwich from the cafeteria and headed up Queen Street to the park beside the castle. It was quiet, and there was always a bench free, plus the flowerbeds were a riot of color and alive with bees and butterflies.
Once seated, she opened her cheese salad sandwich and became lost in wedding thoughts. Her wedding sari had been chosen, a scarlet and gold affair, floor-length, complete with silky headdress, and matching the heavy gold jewelry she’d wear. Her mother and aunts were beside themselves with the food menus, and a big debate was going on about henna designs. Nisha just wanted it all to be called off. Perhaps Rishi would get cold feet and cancel. That would be the best outcome. There could be no blame put on her. It would be his family’s disgrace.
“Do you mind if I…” a deep voice to her right said in a heavy Welsh accent.
“Oh, sorry. Of course.” She moved her bag, which had been taking up half the bench. Her bunch of yellow gold bangles rattled. “Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s you.”
“What?” Looking up, she saw a face she’d seen before. Last night. In the dark. When she’d been terrified. “Oh… I…”
“Didn’t think I’d see you again, but then again Cardiff is a small city.” He grinned.
“But… I mean.” She shook her head, once again taking in his sharp strong features. His hair was longer than was the fashion, hanging over his ears and curling at his nape. His black t-shirt was tattered at the neckline, and he wore a dull silver necklace with a Welsh dragon pendant, a little tacky, which made her wonder if it was his first trip to the capital and he’d been to the gift shop opposite the castle. “Yes, a realcoincidence.”
“Are you okay?” Concern flashed in his green eyes. “You had quite the fright.”
“It would have been worse if you hadn’t shown up.” She set her sandwich on its wrapper and rested it on her lap. “They were—”
“Evil.” His lips turned down. “I should have…”
“What?”
“Called the police.” His jaw tensed as though they weren’t really the words in his mouth. “Had them arrested.”
“Yes, that would have been the best thing.” She paused. “So, do you live around here?”
“No, I’m from the valleys, Brecon way.”
“Ah, I see.”
He smiled suddenly. His teeth were neat and white, and he had a dimple on his right cheek. “What does that mean?”
“I just guessed you weren’t a city boy.”
“You did? How?”
“I dunno, your accent maybe.”
“Stronger than yours, but you’re a Cardiff girl, right?” He set his arm along the back of the bench, his fingers just a few inches from her shoulder.
Nisha’s attention was drawn to his tan skin with sun-bleached hairs and the strong tendons and muscles beneath the surface of his flesh. “Yes, I’m from Cardiff, born and bred, but my parents moved here from Pakistan soon after they were married.”
“Have you ever been? To Pakistan?”
“A couple of times, to see relatives. It’s nice, but it’s not home.” She gestured to the flowerbed in front of her, beyond that, the wide river rushing to the bay. “Wales is home.”
He smiled. “Best country in the world, right?”
“I’d say so.” She smiled, but it quickly dropped whenshe thought of the arranged marriage tradition her parents had dragged halfway across the world.
“You’re sad,” he said. “Why?”
