by Farah Heron
She shook her head. “Thirteen is a baker’s dozen. The extra one always tastes the sweetest.” She kissed him again.
“We still can’t tell our families,” she said as they broke apart again. Not when Mum wanted to start wedding planning and Dad wanted her to report back everything she learned about his new mentee. They wouldn’t understand simply dating Nadim with no plans for a future. There was a reason why Reena stopped telling them about her dating life by the time she was twenty-seven—that was the arbitrary age when every conversation about men turned into interrogations about his marriage prospects. Reena couldn’t see where this would go naturally without keeping her families out of it.
“We’ll create a bubble in this place, just you and me,” he said.
She kissed him again, letting herself sink into a replay of their earlier entertainments, but a thought invaded her mind at the same time. As a bread baker, she knew a thing or two about bubbles. The glorious pockets of air captured in bread dough that made it rise were not as delicate as they looked, so long as the dough had a well-developed gluten foundation. Without the foundation, the bubbles would deflate when exposed to the heat of an oven.
She really hoped their foundation was strong enough to keep their bubble.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After finally emerging from his bedroom, Reena was delighted to learn that her new boyfriend was a pretty good cook. The shrimp was perfectly cooked, even if the pasta wasn’t quite as al dente as she usually preferred. And as she suspected, the bread was good, too. After they ate, they sat on his couch to watch the Home Cooking Showdown videos together.
They’d seen their own clip, of course. But watching it with the other seven couples’ videos confirmed three things to Reena. One, as a fake couple they had more chemistry than most of these real couples. Two, FoodTV wasn’t kidding when they said they were looking for diverse contestants. There were three same-sex married couples, including one where both men were unfortunately named Jeff, and half the pairings had one or two people of color in them. Reena and Nadim weren’t even the only Muslim pairing. And three, Shayne and Marley were geniuses. Because Nadim and Reena were lit better, dressed better, and edited better than all the other videos.
There was no question in Reena’s mind, with only two contestants being eliminated this round, that they had a definite shot at moving on. And now that they were a real couple instead of a fake one (although not engaged), their chemistry might be even better in round two. Reena could practically hear the crack of the baguette crust she’d be making in that course.
“How do we know how we’re doing?” Nadim asked after they had voted for themselves. Because who else would they vote for?
“We don’t. They’ll show the number of votes next week. And if we’re not eliminated, we’ll have a few days to upload the next video.”
He snorted. “We won’t be eliminated. My money for the next round is on us, the hijabi woman and her daughter, that couple from Hamilton, the Jeffs, and the Jamaicans.”
Reena giggled. “Six groups move on. That’s only five.”
“And that’s why we have this in the bag. There is no way we’re in the bottom two. I would tell everyone I know to vote for us, but we don’t need the help. Not with you cooking, anyway.”
Reena grinned. He was right. They had this round. No question about it.
* * *
Reena was surprised to see her father at her door Saturday morning, a scant half hour after Nadim had left her apartment for yet another meeting with a restaurant developer.
She had assumed that after Nadim told his father he wouldn’t be marrying Reena, Shiroz Remtulla would call her father about their children’s abject failure at uniting the families. And, of course, Dad would want to confront her on it. But she wasn’t expecting a parental house call.
“Dad. This is a surprise.”
“Why would you be surprised? I am your father.” Dad strolled in and stood near the breakfast bar like he owned the place. Which was fair—he did.
“Would you like some…coffee? Chai? Breakfast?”
“Just coffee.” He sat at the high stool.
“It’s cold brew, but I can heat it up.”
Dad’s forehead wrinkled. “Cold brew? Why don’t you just use a coffeemaker? You make things more difficult than they need to be, Reena.”
Reena sighed as she pulled her old French press from the top shelf of the cabinet. Her father’s mood was nothing like their last meeting, when Dad had been all compliments and jokes. She filled the kettle.
“I had a disappointing phone call yesterday,” he said.
“Shiroz Remtulla. You’re upset because I refused to marry Nadim.”
“Yes, Shiroz was the call, but no, Reena, that is not what upsets me. I believe our role as parents is to facilitate an introduction, but of course I allow you to make your own choice.”
“Allow? Dad, I’m thirty-one. I don’t need your permission to make a choice.”
He exhaled. “If you’ve discovered so early that you and Nadim are incompatible, then I am happy. No harm done.”
She stifled a snort. Multiple simultaneous orgasms, the last one being a mere hour ago, did not lead Reena’s thoughts to incompatibility.
She poured hot water from the kettle over the coffee grounds. “So, then what, Dad? Why are you angry?”
“I am not angry, just confused. Shiroz said you and Nadim have become close friends.”
“And? If I won’t marry him, I’m not allowed to be friends with him?”
“Of course you can be friends, Reena. But I was under the impression, from both of you, mind you, that you barely knew each other. Have you forgotten what I asked you that day?”
“You asked me to spy on him.”
Dad put his hand down on the counter heavily. “I asked no such thing. But this is our business! I can’t ignore the rumors I heard. All I want to know is who his friends are. Who is he in regular contact with?”
“I’ll tell you who his friend is. Me. Why would you want me to betray my friend by telling his boss about his personal life?”
“I had hoped my children would show a bit more loyalty to the family.”
Reena pinched her lips shut while pushing down the plunger of the French press. She pulled out a mug and poured the coffee. Where were her loyalties, anyway? She did know information about Nadim, albeit not directly from him. And while the intel she had was worthy of a little raised eyebrow on the gossip train, it was hardly worth risking Nadim’s job and his father’s investment.
So what if Nadim used to hang with a bad crowd? And how rational was her father’s dislike of Salim Shah and his ilk anyway? Her father was condemning these people while barely knowing a thing about them.
She placed his coffee on the bar in front of his seat. “How is Nadim working out at the Diamond project? Do you have any reason to be concerned?”
“No. I am still very impressed with him. I told Shiroz that yesterday. He doesn’t have a lot of faith in his son. It’s a shame, really. Nadim is a remarkable worker.” He took a sip of his coffee, then smiled warmly at Reena. “I hope I never underappreciate my children.”
Part of Reena wanted to say that the first step in appreciating his children would be to take a real interest in their lives, but he was only doing what he knew. His father, and the men in his life, had modeled only unconditional filial piety. They probably spent even less time with their children. Why did she expect more? And besides, she should be more sympathetic. All this was because he had been swindled. Cheated by a business associate he trusted.
She took out a box of cookies that he loved but Saira wouldn’t allow in the house and put some on a plate.
“Here’s the truth, Dad. Yes, Nadim and I have become close friends. And yes, I told him I would not marry him. He told me a bit about his troubled past, but really, it’s nothing unexpected, considering he lost his mother at a young age and his father doesn’t appreciate him. As far as I know, he has no close f
riends outside of his coworkers, and me and Marley in the building. And I will not attempt to extract any more information out of my friend. I trust him, and you should, too.”
Everything she had said was true. It just wasn’t all the truths.
But it seemed to satisfy Dad. “He’s lucky to have you.” Dad smiled. “Now, how is work going? Did you ask for a promotion like we discussed?”
Reena groaned internally as she seamlessly transitioned into telling lies instead of truths.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It took Reena about fifteen minutes to regret calling Amira Monday morning after Nadim left for work, as it felt a little early in the day for an interrogation by her best friend. She should have known better—Amira’s reaction to Reena’s relationship upgrade wasn’t exactly unexpected. “So, you don’t return my calls for two days and only send cryptic texts, and now you tell me you’re sleeping with Nadim?”
“Dating.”
“So, you’re not sleeping with him?” Amira asked. She was on her speakerphone in the car and was very loud.
“No, I am sleeping with him, but we’re dating. We’re exclusive.”
“You’re dating the guy you’re pretending to be engaged to for a cooking contest and who your parents want you to marry?”
“Yes. But our parents don’t know,” Reena explained. It made sense to her.
“And, you haven’t told them so they won’t buy jalebi and saris.” Amira paused. “Actually, not telling your parents is probably the only intelligent thing you’ve told me today.”
“Amira, really? Did I judge when you forgave Duncan despite all the crap with his family?”
“Yes, you did judge, Ree.” Amira’s voice rose. “That’s what we do. We advocate for the devil with each other. It’s our shtick. It has been for over—”
“Amira, please.” Reena was in no mood for this blunt investigation of the pitfalls of her new boyfriend, not when she could still feel the lingering echo of his touch on her body. “Give me some time to enjoy him before you pounce on the negatives. Believe me, my eyes are open. We’re getting to know each other.” Reena smiled as she stretched her sore limbs over her cheap sheets. Good lord, had they ever gotten to know each other over the weekend. They’d spent most of Saturday together after his meeting, and most of Sunday, too, save for the few hours Reena took off for family brunch. She now knew her neighbor well. Very well. He liked his eggs sunny side up, his TV comedies British and dry, and his hands were spectacularly talented on more than just her scalp and feet. She squirmed as the warm memory washed over her.
“But what about Saira’s picture?” Crap. Amira was still going on about this? “You had all these pressing questions, but one sparkly rock and you fall into his bed? Did he tell you about his friends in London? I asked my mum about—”
Reena sat up. “Amira, that sparkly rock, as you put it, was fake, and a symbol of us not committing to anything big right now.” She bit her lip. How to make Amira understand this? “I’m unemployed, and my family is a bunch of whack jobs who will probably evict me and force me to move home and join the business when they find out I’m out of work. My head is not in the clouds. I know Nadim’s keeping secrets. I’m keeping secrets from him, too. But…” She squeezed her eyes closed and fell back into the bed. She hadn’t been able to stop her voice from cracking, and her oldest friend would catch it.
Amira was silent while Reena squeezed her eyes shut. “You like him. A lot,” Amira finally said.
“I do. I hate the way we were forced together, and I hate my parents’ interference and Dad asking me to dig up dirt and Saira listening to gossip…but I like him. He makes me laugh. And he’s sweet. Our pasts will unfold slowly, like they are supposed to in a normal relationship.”
“Okay, Ree. Okay. But you know I’m only saying all this because I love you, right? I judge because I care.”
“I know.” And did she ever know. One could not be best friends with the likes of Amira Khan for so many years without understanding that behind those judgments was a fierce protectiveness that no one could match. She knew Amira would get her objections off her chest now, and then stand by Reena and support her no matter what she chose to do. And Amira would never, ever resort to “I told you so” if things went sour with Nadim.
But sometimes getting through the judgments could be trying.
There was a bit more silence as she heard Amira park and turn off her car. “I’ve said my piece and will let it go. Oh, and by the way, Duncan has all of his students voting for your video, so don’t get confused if you see an uptick in votes in the fourteen-to-nineteen age range from the Peterborough area.”
Reena laughed. “I’m not sure they’ll tell me where the votes come from, but thank you.”
“Will do. He voted for you even though he was quite taken with that Syrian mother and daughter. Any chance you can get their muhammarah recipe?”
“I don’t know. I can try.”
“Oh, I forgot, I’m supposed to ask you if you want any fresh eggs or goat milk?”
“What?” That was not a question Reena expected.
“Doug and Shirley insisted I call my cooking friend. They got a few more chickens, and of course Belle and Ariel are way too productive and—”
“What are you talking about, Amira?”
“Doug and Shirley. Duncan’s parents.”
Reena chuckled. “Are they still treating you like their little Muslim pet?”
Amira snorted. “Yup. Shirley even eats beef bacon when I’m not there. Anyway, they have an abundance of eggs, since they can’t seem to say no when their granddaughter wants a new chicken.”
“And Belle and Ariel…”
“Their goats. Who produce way too much milk.” Amira said it like it was the most normal thing in the world to have goats named after princesses. “They asked me to ask you if you wanted any. They said you’re welcome to come to the farm anytime. They also have a bunch of fresh vegetables. I told them it wasn’t likely you’d drive over an hour for some free eggs and milk, but I said I’d ask.”
Actually, Reena probably would drive that long for farm-fresh ingredients. “How fresh are we talking here?” Unpasteurized goat milk was in high demand. She could get good money for it on the food blogger black market.
“I need to get into work. Call me later and let me know what to tell them. And sorry for nagging on you earlier. I just want you to be happy, but you know that. Love ya, babe.”
“Bye, Meer.” She disconnected the call.
Reena closed her eyes. Amira didn’t understand Reena’s new relationship. She didn’t get that this thing with Nadim meant a hell of a lot more than convenient and spectacular sex. Reena needed him right now. And she didn’t want to think about how needing someone so much after such a short time was the very definition of a bad idea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After recovering from the call with Amira, Reena finally rolled out of bed and grabbed a quick shower before setting up on her dining table with a latte and toast to look at the job boards. But the moment she logged on, a knock on her door interrupted her.
“Saira. I wasn’t expecting you,” she said as she opened the door.
Saira rolled her eyes in the most Saira-specific expression that Reena nearly laughed.
“You asked me to dig up dirt for you, and then you’re surprised when I show up?” Saira strolled past Reena and began unloading tote bags on the breakfast bar.
Had Reena asked Saira to dig up dirt? Crap. Nadim. She had asked Saira for more info about that blasted yacht picture. Reena wrinkled her nose. She shouldn’t have done that. Especially after telling Dad so empathetically that she trusted Nadim. So much for letting their pasts unfold organically.
Reena snapped out of her crisis of conscience when she noticed her sister had taken out a series of identical plastic food containers from her tote and was lining them up on the breakfast bar. “What is all that?”
Saira wrinkled her nose as she pointed. “Green
pea dip, masala hummus, and lemongrass white bean dip. And these”—she pulled some large Ziploc bags from the second tote—“are spelt cumin seed crackers, and semolina mustard seed. I’m not sure about the crackers, the mustard seed flavor didn’t really come out. But I don’t know how to fix them.” She opened a bag and shoved it under Reena’s nose. The crackers smelled good, with a nice toasty fresh smell, but not much mustard seed aroma.
Saira opened the other bag and moved it toward Reena’s nose when Reena put her hand out to stop her. “Where’d all this come from?”
“Oh my God, Reena, I told you about the cookbook thing! Do you even listen?” She opened one of the plastic containers, revealing a muddy green paste.
“You made all these?”
Saira rolled her eyes again. “No, Dad did. Of course I made them! But you need to tell me what’s missing here.” She thrust the container under Reena’s nose.
Reena’s hand reflexively shot up to prevent her nose from being caked in army-green gruel. “Saira, chill! I’m trying to understand what you’re doing!”
“I’m trying to get help with these recipes! You wouldn’t give me the eggplant dip, so I had to develop other ones. You’re still the best cook I know. How can I get the mustard seed flavor stronger? I tried—”
Reena put her hand out again, stopping her sister from continuing. “Did you just compliment me?” Was this the twilight zone?
“Reena!” Saira sat heavily on the barstool. “I don’t see why we can’t be, like, normal sisters.”
This clearly was the twilight zone. Reena could write a novel of all the reasons why she and Saira couldn’t be normal sisters.
Reena looked carefully at her sister’s dejected face. Maybe it was thanks to the bliss of her new relationship, but she saw her sister differently today. It couldn’t have been easy to be excluded by her older sister repeatedly. Always being told she was too young or too emotional to play with Reena and Khizar. And for months now, Reena had been resenting Saira for something without even really explaining to her sister why.