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‘I really do. And yeah, I think it might be.’

‘Ayee!’ She hugged Amrita hard. ‘I’m so happy for you. Now dance more and tell me what he’s like in bed!’

Amrita laughed, throwing her head back as her feet found the rhythm again. ‘Can’t.’

‘We used to tell each other everything, and I’m practically an old married woman. I have to live vicariously through my unmarried friends and relatives.’

‘If you’re old, then I’m ancient,’ Amrita teased. ‘But I can’t tell you, because I don’t know. Like I said… he’s respectful.’

‘Kind, respectful and sweet. And hasn’t taken you to bed. Sounds a bit boring to me.’

‘Oh, he’s anything but that.’ Amrita smiled, remembering the sweet, heady warmth when he kissed her. ‘Anyway, are we dancing or gossiping like old nannas?’

And she danced, letting the dhols rumble through her, reminding her of the steps, isolations, shoulder pops and wrist and finger flicks that she’d known since childhood. The music caught her in its spell, and she lost herself in the familiar comforting rhythm as bangles jingled softy around her, mixing in with the whispers of swishing silk, satins and chiffons as dozens of feet – almost all belonging to people she loved – hit the floor vaguely in time.

Even in the midst of it all, her thoughts wandered to Jamie. She hoped he wasn’t too tired – that the drive was going well. She wondered what it would have been like if he’d made it earlier – would he be dancing with her, probably awkward as he tried to match her steps, or would her uncles and boy cousins have stolen him to their side? She smiled at the thought, the imagined memory oddly comforting until she could replace it with a new, real one tomorrow.

Her feet moved without her having to think about it – years of muscle memory taking over – following the pulse of the music that beat through her legs to echo in her chest and heart, reminding her of who she was as she danced the night away.

* * *

Jamie had to fight the urge to yawn in the receptionist’s face as he handed over his credit card. It had been a long drive and, nervous as he was about tomorrow, he was looking forward to crawling into bed for some much-needed sleep. ‘Good evening. Jamie Collins, checking in.’

The receptionist tapped at her keyboard, peered at the screen and tapped some more. Too much.

‘Is everything OK?’

‘Just a little trouble locating your booking. Do you happen to have the booking reference, please?’ Jamie pulled it up on his phone quickly and handed it over. ‘Right, thank you. Just a moment while I check something, please.’ A few more quick taps, a wrinkling of her nose, and an apologetic smile. ‘Right, I see what the problem is. Your room is actually booked for next weekend.’

‘No, that can’t be right.’ He’d double-checked, and Amrita had been sat next to him when he’d booked – checking and sharing the bridal party’s discount booking code.

‘I’m afraid it is.’ The receptionist turned her screen to face him, where the black and white text stared at him accusingly.

‘My apologies. Clearly, I messed up somehow.’ He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth to keep from swearing when realisation hit. Amrita had been sat next to him in Sugar Rush when he’d booked. In Hudsbury. He mentally cursed the magic – and probably pixies – that took so much amusement in meddling in his life lately. ‘Could we just cancel that booking please, and I’ll pay whatever the going rate tonight is?’

‘Cancelling next week won’t be a problem; however, we are – unfortunately – fully booked this weekend.’

‘Because of the wedding. Of course.’ Jamie rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Would it get you in trouble if I asked you for recommendations for local hotels who might have availability this weekend?’

‘I really wouldn’t know, sir. Sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault. This is completely on me.’ It wasn’t, but what else could he say? Mischievous magic had decided meddling in his life was its new hobby? ‘Would you mind if I sat here while I try to make alternative arrangements?’

‘No. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.’

‘As I said, not your fault. Thank you for your help.’

He collapsed into a chair in the corner of the lobby and pulled out his phone. He hesitated, looking at Amrita’s name. It was late… but she had said that sangeets usually ran late, and he could hear the rhythmic thump of music coming from somewhere. He took a breath and dialled her number, hoping he wasn’t disturbing her.

She didn’t answer, so he switched to a hotel app and started scrolling.

A few seconds later she called back. ‘Jamie, hi. Are you here and checked in?’

‘Yes, and no. There’s been a bit of a problem with the booking…’

‘Hang on a second.’ He could hear her speaking quickly to someone else, words he didn’t understand. ‘Sorry. It’s a bit busy. And noisy. Are you in reception still? Can you wait for me there?’

‘Sure.’