by Farah Heron
“So,” Anderson continued, leaning closer to Reena, “this is probably not my place, but…”
She wasn’t getting the Asler scholarship. She was going to be disqualified. Humiliated. Sent home with nothing but a security tag with a bad computer printout of her face.
Anderson smiled sadly. “Is Shayne…you know…dating anyone right now? I mean, like, seriously dating?”
Reena blinked. He wasn’t going to expose them? All Anderson wanted was to maybe hook up with Shayne again?
She was relieved but knew she couldn’t tell Shayne about Anderson’s fact-finding here. What would happen if Reena and Nadim won the whole thing, and Shayne and Anderson became a couple again? Anderson would realize his boyfriend’s friends weren’t actually engaged or married. Reena would have to stop hanging out with Shayne, which would mean seeing less of Marley. A family rift would start, and she wouldn’t be able to explain to Mum why she could no longer go to Marley’s parents for their annual Eid party, and—
Nadim leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, this is fine.”
Reena exhaled. Anderson was still watching her with an adorable, hopeful expression. He ran his hand through his hair. “I just…well, I mean, with the contest I need to stay fair, so I won’t call him now. But…” He looked away, a slight tremble on his lower lip. “You ever get scared when something fits a little too perfectly? Like maybe it’s just not humanly possible for something to work so well, so you look for problems that aren’t there?”
Reena blinked at Anderson, not sure she liked this mirror put up in front of her.
“Shayne’s really into you,” she said. “You should talk to him.”
Anderson bit his lip. “I will, I will. Just…do me a favor—don’t tell him what I said here. I need to figure out how to fix things. Oh, here’s Lana!”
Saved by the makeup artist.
Lana was chatty, too. As she brushed powder on Reena’s nose, she said, “You two make a cute couple. How’d you meet?”
“Through my parents,” Reena said, relieved she could tell the truth.
“Cute! They set you up?”
“Yep,” Nadim answered.
“Have you set a wedding date yet?”
“Not yet. Reena wants a big Indian wedding, so there is a lot to plan.”
Reena raised a brow, which elicited a censorious frown from Lana, who had moved on to touching up Reena’s eye makeup. “No, I don’t,” Reena said.
“Sure, you said you wanted a designer salwar and full mehndi.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a big wedding. I can wear full mehndi to city hall if I want to. If we have a huge wedding, you’d have to invite all your friends and family from London and Tanzania.”
“And why would that be a problem? I’d want to invite them. It’s my wedding,” Nadim said.
“Really? After the way they treated you? And do you really think all your bougie rich-snob friends would even come?” Okay, that wasn’t very nice of her, but she was annoyed he thought she’d want a big wedding. Didn’t he know her better than that?
“How do you know my friends are bougie rich-snobs? You’ve never met any of them. I’ve never even told you about any of them.”
She knew they were bougie rich-snobs because she’d seen that picture on a yacht. And she’d seen Jasmine Shah with them—and from everything she knew about Jasmine, the descriptor was accurate.
Reena folded her arms on her chest. “Well, a big giant Indian wedding with hundreds of our fathers’ business contacts isn’t what I want—and you should have known that.”
“How could I know something you’ve never told me?”
This was a mistake. Reena had been worrying about faking this engagement in person for days, and yet it had never occurred to her that she and Nadim should have their stories straight before bringing this farce to the real world.
What was this makeup artist thinking right now? And, crap, could the cameras be on them? This wasn’t supposed to be a drama-heavy reality show, but could this argument cost them the semifinals? That’s when Reena noticed Lana wasn’t even at their station anymore.
“Where’d she go?” Reena asked.
Nadim scanned the room. “There,” he said, chuckling. “Looks like she fled during our spat. Nice job on that, by the way. Only a real couple could argue that well.”
Reena squeezed her eyes shut. And they weren’t a real couple.
“Hello, contestants!” a voice bellowed. It came from an official-looking woman wearing a headset similar to Anderson’s. “Welcome to the semifinals of the cook-off! I’m Cindy—you’ve all been in contact with me over email going over today’s events. Just a reminder of the rules: Each team will be able to grab whatever ingredients you need from the front tables. You were all given a list of what would be available, and there are no surprises. And as mentioned, you were allowed to bring your own spices, seasonings, and specialty ingredients. You will then have one hour to create a picnic meal from start to finish at your own station. The camera people will walk around to catch all of you. The show’s host, chef Michelle Finlay, will be visiting each station, asking questions. Remember, voting will still be done by home viewers—no one here will judge you. It’s about how the food looks and how you present yourself on camera. Are you ready, contestants?”
No, Reena wasn’t. After that fake (or was it real?) lovers’ spat, Reena’s mind was racing again. She took a deep breath. They’d practiced their picnic menu in the backyard of Shayne’s house only yesterday. She could do this. It was all comfort food she could make with her eyes closed.
They were making grilled naan, chicken tikka skewers, grilled corn on the cob with chili and lime, and kachumber salad—classic picnic food, as far as she was concerned. The chicken wouldn’t be as good as if she’d had more time to marinate it, but when they’d practiced it using the freshest spices available, it was still tasty. And the naan would have less time for the yeast to ferment, which worked fine for a flatbread.
She needed to stay focused. With cameras on them, and the other teams surrounding them, it was no wonder her nerves were so high. Not to mention being severely shaken up by an argument with her boyfriend/fiancé/whatever who just claimed none of this was real.
Nadim seemed fine, though. Charming grin, spring in his step. He winked at her the moment headset lady gave the go-ahead to get their ingredients. And he kissed her cheek right before they started cooking.
So, Reena kept going. Pretended this was all real.
But it wasn’t easy. Within minutes of starting, Reena cut herself with her chef’s knife. She was able to wave down Anderson to get a bandage while Nadim took over duties requiring sharp implements.
She was putting the corn on the grill when the chef and camera crew arrived together.
“And here are our lovebirds! You know, you two have been so popular, I heard someone is creating actual fan-fiction of your wedding! How are you feeling going into the semifinals as crowd favorites? Pressure getting to you?”
Nadim grinned. “It’s like any other day cooking with my love.”
Michelle grinned. Reena had always liked Michelle Finley and had been excited to learn she would be the chef host for today.
“Tell us, Reena, why have you chosen to grill the corn with the husk off? Won’t the kernels get dried out?”
Thankfully, they’d expected this question. “This is how corn is cooked on streets in India and in East Africa. That’s where both Nadim and my family are from. The kernels are a little dryer this way, but I think the flavor is more concentrated. And after I sprinkle it with chili and lime, I guarantee, you’ll never want to grill corn with the husk on again.” She smiled as she turned the cobs using large tongs.
“Indo-East African cuisine seems to be a common thread between you two.”
Nadim grinned. “Completely. It feels like a relief to be committed to someone who not only comes from the same corner of the world as me, but who also understands that these r
ecipes, passed down from our mothers and grandmothers, are like the cornerstone of our culture.”
“So, you think you two are so great together because of your shared cultural background?”
He laughed. “No! Not only. But we do have that bond. Honestly, I think food is why we work so well. I love being with someone who loves cooking and eating as much as I do. It feels like home, you know?”
“You two are an inspiration. If you win this thing, I’m going to insist the network give you a show dispensing relationship advice while cooking.”
Reena managed not to cringe. The thought of her giving anyone relationship advice was so laughable. And them together—the only advice they could give was how to grift others to win free cooking courses.
Because, as Nadim told her, this wasn’t real.
“Whoops!” Michelle pointed at the grill. “Smells like your corn might be a little too blackened. I’ll leave you for now, but I’ll be back to see what happens with that chicken!”
Sure enough, the corn was almost completely black on one side. Reena sighed as she turned the cobs around. Nadim’s hand landed on her waist.
“I screwed up,” Reena said.
“It’s okay. We’ll serve it blackened side down.”
They managed the rest of the hour with no more burned food or broken skin, and Reena felt better about their finished meal. She still worried that her little screwup with the corn might cost them votes, but after peeking at the other contestants’ finished picnics, she saw that theirs weren’t all picture-perfect, either.
After the filming, all the contestants met up for a giant picnic to taste the food they’d prepared. This was followed by a tour of the FoodTV studios, and finally a five-star tasting meal at a top restaurant. Reena thoroughly enjoyed herself. The other contestants were charmingly supportive of one another and so damn nice that she hoped they would somehow all win. The Jeffs were particularly delightful, and Reena was stoked that Jeff Gryzbowski even shared his recipe for the Polish baked cabbage they’d made in round two. Like good polite Canadians, no one asked intrusive questions, and it didn’t feel like she and Nadim were faking anything—because they weren’t. They might not actually be engaged, but they felt like a couple.
After dinner, they all went to the cocktail lounge in the hotel lobby to chat some more. All in all, it was a great evening with her boyfriend. She realized then just how much she wanted to keep him.
* * *
On the way up the elevator to their room after leaving the bar, Reena smiled at Nadim.
“I had fun tonight,” she said.
“Yeah, me too. Man, you Canadians, though. I was so ready to throw down and be competitive, but everyone was so…pleasant. Cooperative.” He chuckled.
“I think they only picked nice people.” She squeezed her hands together. “I mean it, though…I know you’re doing all this as a favor for me, but…I’m glad you are. I’m enjoying doing this contest with you.”
“I’m having fun, too.” He kissed her briefly.
There was more she needed to say, but she didn’t know how. She wanted to tell him that hanging out with other people, pretending they had a future, letting others think they were in love, felt right to her. Didn’t feel fake. She wanted to ask him how it felt for him.
But when they walked into their room on the twentieth floor, she was speechless. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows were open, and the CN Tower was illuminated brightly like a beacon in a night sky dotted with glimmering lights. As a lifelong city girl, the nonstop cacophony of cars and movement soothed Reena. This was a magical night. She couldn’t risk popping this bubble with difficult conversations. She walked to the window and looked out.
Nadim came up behind her. “Quite the view,” he murmured. “Toronto is so beautiful at night.”
Reena nodded, leaning back against him.
“I love the hum of cities,” she said.
Nadim wrapped his arms around her waist. “The honking cars, drunk screams, and sirens are oddly comforting.”
She chuckled. “You’ve pretty much always lived in cities, right?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. Yes, in Dar es Salaam, and in London, but my private school was in the English countryside. And, of course, I had holidays and such.”
“Do you think you always would want to live in a city?”
“Not sure. I used to think so.” His arms tightened around her. “I wanted the fast life. Wild parties and free-flowing drinks.”
And hot women. And yachts. Night and day from his life now. Reena wiggled free of his grip and went to open her bag.
“Why did you want that from your life back then?” she asked slowly. She regretted saying it almost immediately. She looked at him, but his facial expression was closed. He didn’t want to talk about the past, not now.
He removed his T-shirt and walked toward her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest even through her sweater. He grazed a kiss on her neck. He took a step back, and achingly slowly pulled her sweater up and off. “I was looking for home, I think. I wasn’t finding it, though.” He turned her around and nudged her forward, positioning her so her arms were outstretched above her head and resting on the wall. He kissed the back of her neck as his hand trailed down her spine. “My soul knows when I’m home,” he murmured.
His hand trailed lower to unhook her bra strap, guiding her arms down to let her bra fall to the floor.
She shivered as the cool air kissed her naked chest. He finally turned her around and engulfed her body in his, sharing his warmth, and kissing with what felt like every muscle in his body.
The sex felt different that night. Slower. Agonizingly tender. She lost herself in the sensations. The smells, the sounds, the feel of his body around her, under her, in her. Just him. This man, who had been dropped into her life at the wrong time in the wrong way, but who ended up being everything she needed.
It wasn’t until afterward, when they still lay clutched together, still joined and floating back to the world, that she untangled her thoughts and emotions enough to see the truth. This was real. No matter what he said. And she was in love with him.
And it was high time to figure out if he felt the same way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Reena was feeling weirdly optimistic on the drive back to the apartment Sunday morning. It was early—she hadn’t been able to get out of Sunday brunch with her family, but she and Nadim planned to make dinner together later. She was ready to talk to him. To tell him she was in this relationship deep and she didn’t want there to be secrets between them anymore. And she wanted to go fully public with it, even bring him to brunch next weekend. It was time to fight past her instinct to deflect and distract, and live her life.
After dropping him back at the building, she drove straight to her parents’ house, where she was surprised to see an extra car in the driveway. Strange. Before she made it into the house, the door opened and her sister rushed out in her stocking feet, pulling a confused Ashraf behind her.
“Saira, what’s wrong?”
Saira beamed. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is good. Better than good, in fact. Ashraf proposed! I’m getting married, Reena!”
Saira tackle-hugged her, while Reena stood frozen in shock. Saira, engaged? And hugging her?
After a few seconds Reena smiled and hugged her sister back. “You’re happy?” she asked in Saira’s ear.
“Yes. Very. This is what I want.”
Reena grinned, letting go of her sister and hugging Ashraf. “Welcome to the insanity.”
“I am happy to be here,” he said awkwardly.
Saira beamed and put her arm around his waist. “He asked me last night. Mum was so excited she screamed when we told her.”
Reena took her sister’s hand to look closer at the ring, a standard white-gold solitaire that looked perfect on Saira’s long fingers. After squeezing her hand, she looked into her sister’s eyes, surprised to see them gla
ssy with tears. “I’m happy you’re happy,” Reena assured her.
“So…” Saira’s gaze shifted down to their locked hands. “Then we’re good, right? I want you to be my maid of honor.”
Wow. Could she do that? She wanted things to be good with her sister. Wanted to let go of the resentment she’d felt for the last year—longer, if she was honest. But could she just take all that bitterness and resentment and boil it off, leaving nothing behind but the sweet sisterly bond she always wanted? Maybe, with work. Doing this for her sister could be the first step. She could face it, instead of deflecting. She squeezed her sister’s hands again before letting it go. “I’d be honored to stand with you. What did Dad say?”
“Not much.” Saira shrugged. “He’s in a pissy mood about something to do with his project. As usual, business first, family later.” She turned toward Ashraf, who was standing quietly behind her. “Don’t ever be like that.”
He shook his head. “You know I wouldn’t.”
Saira smiled widely, pulled him back into the house. “Let’s go face the wolves.”
They went inside to find Mum and Dad at the table.
“Reena! Did you hear your sister’s news! Ashraf, sit…” Mum motioned to the seat near hers.
Mum’s and Saira’s happiness were infectious, and Reena couldn’t help but soak it in as Saira told the story of Ashraf surprising her in her favorite sushi restaurant.
Dad sat quietly while the three women in the family gushed over Saira’s ring, talked about wedding clothes, and made plans for bridal sari shopping. Finally, Reena looked at her father. She would have thought he would at least be a little happy his youngest daughter was engaged, and to a good Muslim man this time. A nice, sensible, management-type. Really everything Dad wanted in a son-in-law.
“What’s going on, Dad?” Reena asked him. “Saira said you have a work issue?”
“Yes. A disaster, really.” He sighed. “We can’t trust anyone these days. I hate being lied to.”
Shit. Had someone swindled Dad again? “Who lied to you?”