Itwasa big deal. A big deal that no one in this family ever actually talked about what was going on. Saira never telling Reena about her relationship problems with Joran or about her diagnoses. And Reena never telling any of them about her own struggles. Or her dreams and how hurt she was when she lost them. She was tired of everyone hiding their feelings under the rugs, hoping no one noticed they were far from smooth on the floor.
“I need to tell you something.” She took a deep breath. “I used to want to write a cookbook. It was a dream I had for a long time. And I almost did, at one point. But I lost that dream because of you.”
Saira looked at her, dark eyes wide. “What?”
So, Reena told her the whole story.
And Saira said nothing. Nothing except sorry.
“You knew I had the blog,” Reena said, “and you wrote almost a thousand words about how amateur food writers and their decadent creations were contributing to the downfall of society. It was grossly hyperbolic, and it directly attacked something I cared about,” Reena said, strangely annoyed that Saira wasn’t more defensive.
“I know.” Her sister looked down, fussing with the hummus, swirling a deep groove into it with the back of a spoon. “And it wasn’t completely…unintentional.” She sighed, looking at Reena through glassy eyes. “I didn’t think you would lose your blog or anything, I just…became weirdly obsessed with your popularity…and I guess I wanted to take you down a peg. Living with little Miss Perfect messed me up.”
“What? I’m hardly perfect!”
Saira still didn’t look at her, and still spoke quietly. “Seriously, Reena? I have a degree in nutrition and food, and all anyone ever talks about is what a great cook you are. Even in your personal life, you’ve had this best friend for years who is always there when you need her. You and Khizar have a better relationship with each other than you’ve ever had with me. You had a blog with thousands of readers. Not to mention men…I’ve had a grand total of three relationships, and you’ve had, what, eleven boyfriends?”
“Twelve,” Reena corrected. Technically, thirteen, but Reena’s mind still reeled from what Saira had said. Reena?Perfect?
“I was a mess. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” She paused and looked at Reena. “My therapist is helping me learn to stop automatically comparing my life to others and enjoy where I’m at now. It’s so hard because I hated myself so much…”
Saira hated herself? Well, join the club. At least Reena didn’t resort to ruining family members’ dreams when she went through a bout of self-loathing.
“I’m sorry, Reena,” Saira said again, finally meeting Reena’s eyes. “I didn’t know about your cookbook. Maybe you can try for it again? I can ask—”
“No. It’s not something I have time for right now. Job search and all.”
They were silent for a while before Reena crossed the kitchen and put the lids on the dips. She honestly didn’t know how to feel—she’d had some vague idea that if one day she confronted Saira about how much her actions had hurt her, she would gain closure and get over it. It was supposed to feel cathartic. But it turned out this wasn’t a Lifetime movie, and it wasn’t so simple. Years of sibling rivalry encouraged by their parents and months of resentment couldn’t be tied up in a neat bow and put behind them. Maybe with work, the relationship could be saved, and Reena could learn to appreciate how much Saira had grown. But trusting her now was hard—Reena had been burned too many times.
“I should go,” Saira said, seeming to understand Reena wasn’t ready to move on from this. “You keep the food. I’ll try and re-create it all later. Thanks for your help, Reena. I really do appreciate it.”
And with that, Saira walked out the door. And Reena was left with a kitchenful of dips, crackers, and a bitter taste in her mouth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Saira left Reena with plenty of leftovers from their attempt to perfect homemade crackers and dips, a bonus, because probably for the first time in her life, Reena didn’t feel like cooking. She did defrost some lentil soup that she’d stashed last month when she thought some upcoming work projects might mean she’d be too tired to cook in the coming weeks (ha!).
She couldn’t stop replaying that conversation with her sister. Should she have let it all go? Just…not brought up the blog and the cookbook? Maybe they could have forged a decent relationship without working through the bitterness.
But she knew it wouldn’t be right. Like a perfect loaf of bread without any salt—nice on the surface but tastes off.
For now, all she could do was push past the uneasy feeling and prepare for an evening with her boyfriend and friends.
Boyfriend.
Her heart skipped a bit every time that word passed through her mind. He wanted her to call him that. Already. She wanted it, too. After learning nothing useful from Saira’s fact-finding expedition, she was confident that this just-for-fun, only-in-the-present, supportive relationship was worth any fallout that might happen in the future. She’d survived plenty of family implosions, and Nadim was definitely worth risking another.
He came over straight after work, still wearing his suit, a box in one hand and a wrapped plate in the other. He left them on the breakfast bar, then pulled Reena in for a long and leisurely kiss.
“I’ve been thinking about doing that all day,” he whispered into her neck after he had released her lips. Reena hummed with appreciation.
“What did you bring?” she asked as he sucked the soft spot below her ear. She shivered.
He stepped back and grinned, still holding her waist. “We’re still trying to finalize the café for the Diamond building. Met with a guy who owns a few franchises of a lunch counter–type place. He may be interested in opening one in the building. He wants us to put up some capital and be silent partners, but his terms seem far from fair to us. Anyway, he gave me some baked goods to sample. I’m sure they’re nowhere near as good as yours, but…”He kissed her again, long and deep, tongues tangling and hands clutching. Nadim was an aggressive, all-or-nothing kisser. Reena’s favorite kind.
“What was I saying?” he said when they finally broke free.
She giggled. “You were extolling the virtues of my baking.”
