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 friends 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’tallthe 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’redating. We’re exclusive.”
“You’redatingthe 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 usnotcommitting 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 isnotin 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 likehim. 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?”
