by Sonali Dev
Ashna and Rico stepped up in front of the judges—a mix of two chefs, a food editor, and inexplicably, a director of romantic comedies.
“I’m going to put this right out there,” one of the chef judges started. “Your churro was nowhere near as delicious as your chemistry.”
The smile on Rico’s face froze in place, or maybe Ashna was projecting. When Rico was on camera it was hard to tell what was real and what was not.
The monitor played the judging clip from their cooking episode yesterday when the food editor had held up the churro. The churro had been admittedly lame. Or rather, limp. On the screen, it curved down in an arc. In front of them the judge traced an arc with her finger with impressive drama.
That made Rico bless everyone with his full-throated, self-deprecating laugh. The judge fanned herself with her notepad. Ashna pasted a smile on her face as they watched the rest of the footage of the judge holding up the curving churro.
Her mortification had to have shown because Rico leaned close to her ear. “Lighten up. It might not have been a fabulous churro, but it is another fabulous television moment, so they’re going to milk it.”
She realized she was leaning into his whisper and pulled away. Her body retaliated, soaking up the caress of his breath on her earlobes, and sent another ungodly zing through every one of her traitorous internal organs.
DJ threw Ashna and Rico a smile. How had DJ developed this repertoire of smiles for the camera so fast? He held out his mic. “The judges think your churro didn’t . . . ahem . . . quite stand up to the test. What’s your reaction?”
Would they stop with calling that churro names?
Rico was about to open his mouth, but Ashna grabbed the mic from DJ. “I agree that it could have been . . . well, stiffer, but given that this was Frederico’s first time making one, I for one was very impressed. I’ve eaten a few churros in my day, and I don’t think I’ve ever tasted one quite that delicious. Looks aren’t everything.”
The studio audience, which was in complete darkness today, lost its collective mind all over again.
DJ let out a delighted—albeit surprised—laugh. “You’ll be glad to know that you weren’t the only one who thought so. I think you’re going to enjoy this next part.”
The large screen played footage of the judge holding up the curving churro one more time to audience boos and then played clips of social media reacting to it. An endless number of people had an opinion on the matter. Someone had even spelled out their names in churros for an Instagram post.
ASHNA + RICO.
(Inside a churro heart. Groan.)
From behind the cameras, China bounced on her heels and blew Ashna grateful kisses.
Unsurprisingly, the judges’ scores were as lukewarm as their criticism.
As they walked away, Rico’s smile was too arrogant by half. It was the other half of his smile that told Ashna she had made a mistake by taking the mic.
One by one the other pairs braved the recaps and the judges’ comments—mostly lackluster, except for Danny El, who had made, wait for it . . . mac and cheese that the judges “wanted to lick off their dishes.”
As DJ waited for the combined scores to be computed so he could announce them, Jonah ran up to Ashna and Rico at their station. “That was amazeballs.” He gave Rico a fist bump and Ashna a worshipful glance. “You guys are trending everywhere!”
What was wrong with people? Ashna didn’t understand this obsession with other people’s lives. Jonah pulled up Twitter and Instagram on his tablet and waved it about, parroting all the hashtags she and Rico now were: #knifegate #churrosolimp, and the one that made Jonah the giddiest: #Ashico, which when said out loud sounded far too much like the Hindi word ashiquo which, disastrously enough, meant “lovers.”
There were also betting pools for when Ashna and Rico would go public with their “relationship.” There was definite consensus about the fact that they were together. #Lobsters.
Rico was a sea of calm in the face of this tidal swell of information. Ashna felt like she was drowning. His studying—and steadying, dang it—gaze kept coming back to her, so she had no choice but to keep her shit together.
“Relax,” Rico said as Jonah went off to accost someone else with data. “It only means that we aren’t getting voted off anytime soon.”
“First, never tell someone to relax if you actually want them to relax,” Ashna snapped, feeling entirely cornered. “All those girlfriends and not one of them ever told you this?”
His brows flew up and Ashna had the briefest moment of satisfaction before awareness brightened his eyes and she realized what she had admitted to. Yes, she had fallen down the Google rabbit hole that was Frederico Silva’s media coverage. Girlfriends, winning moments, underwear ads. It was quite the cornucopia of a life well lived. She wanted to sink into the floor. Even so, his openmouthed wordlessness was so darned satisfying she spun around and walked to the stage again, where the contestants were lining up and DJ was ready with the results.
Rico took his place next to her, his body tight with tension.
A small voice in her heart chided her for snapping at him when he had only been trying to help. Why did he do this? Why him? What was it that made him see all the way inside her?
Yesterday, he’d navigated the roller coaster of her panic unflinchingly. It was difficult for him to not push, to not immediately understand. Patience didn’t come naturally to him, and yet when she’d asked for what she needed, support with the cooking challenge, space, he’d given it without question.
Ashna couldn’t remember the last time anyone had put what she wanted before everything else. Actually, she did remember. That was the problem. No, the real problem was how horribly she had missed it.
DJ announced that Tatiana would be leaving them this week—thanks to a corn dog where the batter hadn’t stuck to the dog. Tatiana and her chef hugged everyone, expressed remorse but also relief at going back to focusing on her dogs and his restaurant, respectively, and walked away.
Then DJ was on the mic again, announcing the surprise. “You’ve all been working really hard here. Some of you have had to be away from your families. So, we’ve brought your families to you. Our studio audience today is all friends and family.”
The studio broke into happy chaos. The lights over the audience went on and Ashna decided that she desperately needed a new best friend, because China had brought in Nisha; Nisha’s daughter, Mishka; Mina Kaki; and Yash. Which meant her family would see her with Rico. Which meant he’d see her with her family. A bleeding together of parts of her life she would give anything to keep separate. At least Shobi was conspicuous by her absence, and Ashna’s relief was an unholy blast, because if Rico saw her with Shobi . . . well, he wasn’t going to.
DJ invited the families to join the contestants in the lounge for wine and cheese and the contestants made their way there.
The first person Ashna saw when she entered the lounge was Yash. She squealed and flew into his arms and he pulled her into a bear hug. Cameras went off around them. With anyone else it would feel staged, given that Yash was a gubernatorial candidate and positive, seemingly ordinary family-life coverage was gold. But Yash had a way of swimming in the sea of hoopla without ever getting wet.
“OMG, what is Yash Raje doing here?” Ashna said, holding Yash tight. She didn’t get to see him nearly enough anymore. This running-for-governor business was time consuming. “I’ve missed you. It’s almost worth doing the show to get to see you.”
His gray eyes twinkled. How he appeared so energetic after months of being on the road she would never know. “Totally lucky that I was back home for a day. When Ma told me they’re letting us visit today, I had to come by and make sure they were taking care of you.”
Ashna laughed. Across the room, Rico was introducing a friend from his soccer team to Song and her family. “I needed my big brother to come rescue me. It’s been torture.”
“But it’s worth it because of the view?” Yas
h caught her studying Rico. Song handed Rico a baby swathed in pink frills and he pressed her close to his chest. Something low in Ashna’s belly went up in flames.
“How on earth did China manage to bag Frederico Silva anyway?” Yash said with entirely uncharacteristic gushiness. “And is that Zia Malik? No way!” Yash being a fan was hilarious.
Ashna refused to make anything of the huge relief that had washed over her when Rico’s friend had walked into the studio. The fear that he might have no one visiting him today had been unwarranted and she felt silly for letting it worry her.
“How are things on the campaign trail? The polls are looking good.”
He let her ungainly change of topic go. “I’m doing fairly well in Northern California. San Diego is going well too. I might crack Orange County, crazily enough, and Death Valley, but LA is kicking my butt. They love Cruz.”
Yash’s closest opponent, Davis Cruz, was a popular actor and was selling himself as the next Schwarzenegger, if not Reagan. Cruz had ramped up his Latino outreach on one hand while slamming away at Yash’s being an “outsider” and West Coast elite.
Yash was still beating him in the polls, but the California primary was coming up in two months and the gap was too close for comfort and had to be widened.
“You’ve been there every week. You’ll turn them around.”
Nisha and Mina Kaki walked over with a photographer and they took some family pictures. Mishka, Nisha’s nine-year-old, was too busy being starstruck by Danny El to come spend time with her family and it made Ashna smile. Speaking of being starstruck, Ashna’s eyes wouldn’t stop seeking out the baby-carrying Rico. She caught him watching Yash as Yash shook hands with the crew, and the strangest excitement brightened his face.
“Enjoying the view?” Nisha asked.
Seriously, Ashna was going to scream the next time someone said that.
Chapter Nineteen
Of course, Rico knew that Yash and Ashna were cousins, but still, seeing them together was strange. Most people’s body language was different when they were around people they were close to, but Ashna took that to a whole new level. She was one person when she was around strangers and an entirely different person when she was with those she let in. There was a naked vulnerability to her with those she was close to. Until this moment he hadn’t realized quite how much he had missed that degree of connection.
When China announced that their families would be visiting the set today, Ashna had looked like she’d been shot. It had made Rico search the room for her father, the last person on earth he ever wanted to see. He forced himself not to relive his meeting with the man, or the fact that Ashna had sided with him. Fortunately, it seemed that he had decided not to visit his daughter today.
“You’ve literally not taken your eyes off your chef the entire time I’ve been here.” Zee had taken a flight down in the middle of his honeymoon—a completely idiotic thing to do, but also not at all surprising given that Zee knew that Rico’s pathetic ass had no one else.
Rico turned to him. “There, I’ll only stare into your pretty face for the rest of the afternoon.”
Zee laughed, but before Rico could respond Song walked over with her mother and sister. Song’s sister had brought her baby and as soon as Zee waved to her and said hi in that high-pitched way people said hi to babies, she made a leap at Zee. Or rather she leaped at the huge solitaires in Zee’s ears.
The moment she was perched on Zee, she noticed Rico’s bun and decided that was more worth her time than Zee’s bling. Rico took her from Zee. Almost immediately, she wanted to go back, unable to choose between Zee’s rocks and Rico’s beard and bun. Song’s sister tried to take her back, needlessly embarrassed, because both Zee and Rico were just vain enough to love the attention. Not that it mattered what anyone wanted, because the determined little person refused outright to leave Rico and go to her mother.
This seemed to thrill Song and embarrass her sister some more.
“I’m so sorry,” this almost identical but somehow more put-together version of Song said.
“Please don’t apologize,” Rico said as the baby made a tight fist in his hair and tugged.
Being wanted this way by someone so tiny with a personality so huge was alarmingly satisfying. Rico would gladly take this uncomplicated, entirely self-assured love for as long as she wanted to give it.
“No wonder people have babies,” Zee said. “Is this one of those biological clock things for men no one told us about?”
Rico laughed, but he’d been wondering the same thing. Not that all that godfathering hadn’t softened him up for this. “Go on, I’m happy to keep her,” he told Song’s mother and sister. “You go ahead and mingle.”
The lovely little girl, who was named Rose but smelled milky instead of floral, squeezed his face with her chubby hands and slobbered all over his beard.
Song dropped a kiss on his cheek that did not escape her mother’s eagle eye and the three women headed toward Song’s chef, chatting away in Korean.
“You know they’re planning your wedding, right?” Zee said with all the amusement of someone who’d be flying back to his honeymoon in a few hours.
“Song and I are just friends,” Rico said.
Zee scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, but does Song know that?” Before he could elaborate on that unnecessary observation, his phone rang, and he excused himself. From the way his face went all fuzzy it was obviously Tanya. Rico shook his head as his friend walked away looking for a quiet corner amid the pandemonium.
As was his curse these days, Rico’s eyes sought out Ashna. As it seemed to be her curse these days, she sensed his study and met his gaze. There it was, the fire in her eyes that set off answering flames across his entire being.
Yash followed her gaze to Rico and excitedly hurried over. “Yash Raje. I hope you don’t mind me introducing myself.”
Ashna didn’t move.
“Frederico Silva. It’s a pleasure!”
“I’m such a fan!” they both said together, and a tiny smile lit Ashna’s eyes across the ten feet that separated them, even as she kept her lips pursed.
When she noticed that Rico had caught her smile, she turned to Lilly Cromwell, the soap star, whose visiting family included four daughters who looked like younger replicas of her.
Baby Rose reached out to Yash, and Yash stepped back. What was this? The most affable candidate the political scene had seen in years was afraid of babies?
“She doesn’t bite,” Rico said, suddenly an expert.
Undaunted by Yash’s skepticism, little Rose, determined thing that she was, stretched toward Yash.
Rico held her out. “Some pictures might help with the media’s issues with your being unmarried.”
Yash raised a brow, then grinned. “Did my mother and sister put you up to this?” He took the baby from Rico and cameras started clicking around them.
For someone who’d taken the baby reluctantly, the candidate looked completely comfortable with her for the cameras. He turned to Rico as Rose examined various parts of his face—which had the same fine-boned structure as Ashna’s. “The last World Cup, man, when Zia Malik crossed it to you in the box and you took it off the volley and to the back of the net. Unbelievable. And that goal in the ninetieth? And the way you spun the controversy with your teammates trashing that bar, it was something. You’re the GOAT, man, you’re the GOAT. Actually, no, you’re the game, man!”
Baby Rose reached out to Rico again and he took her back and let her crawl up his shoulder and pull at his bun. “Speaking of being the GOAT, your Calicare for All plan—it’s pure genius, mate. By removing profit-seeking private insurance, you lower premiums and eliminate costly deductibles. And by having corporations paying in for employees who opt out, you help fund it. How has no one thought of that?”
Yash seemed taken aback by that. Rico hadn’t figured the man for someone who let his feelings show easily, but up close there was an almost vulnerable honesty about him
, also very much like his cousin. Why wasn’t someone in his campaign making sure the voters saw that side of him? Because it didn’t come through on the TV screen or in his interviews at all and it was pure media gold if leveraged right.
“What a charming little girl.” A gorgeous older woman Ashna had been speaking with earlier walked up to them. “And look how smart! She seems to have you two wrapped around her finger.”
She had to be Ashna’s aunt, and the other woman who followed her had to be one of Ashna’s cousins. There was an unmistakable resemblance between the cousins, something about the shape of the eyes and the delicacy of the jaw, and of course the graceful bearing. Although, none of the others had the intensity, the vibrancy that Ashna’s beauty was painted in. Hers were vivid strokes of oil pastels to their watercolors. And he was a really bad poet.
“You’ve got some good taste in men, baby girl,” this subtler version of Ashna said to the child in Rico’s arms.
Ashna finally crossed the distance and joined them.
Rico felt his stomach muscles tighten. He braced himself for the pretense of being a recent acquaintance. His star to her chef. Not the man who had sought her out because for ten years he’d craved who he was when he was with her.
“Here is our star. You two were amazing today!” Ashna’s aunt said, wrapping her arm around Ashna’s shoulders.
The look Ashna gave Rico was stubborn as hell, every bit New Ashna. “Looks like you’ve met them already, but this is my aunt, Mina Raje, and my cousins, Nisha and Yash—Trisha’s sister and brother. And this is Mishka, Nisha’s daughter. Everyone, this is Frederico Silva, my partner on the show.”
Rico shook everyone’s hand, trying to ignore the feeling of being kicked in the solar plexus. What kind of idiot got so caught up in something as stupid as being acknowledged by an ex he was trying to get over?
They laughed various versions of the same laugh. “Yes, we’re aware that he’s your partner on the show, Ashi!”
Idiot that he was, Rico threw a glance at Ashna. Thanks!
She went all stiff and defensive. You didn’t actually expect me to tell them now, did you? Her answering gaze said.