“You are moving on. Seriously. The Jeffs have nothing on you.”
Reena shrugged.
“What, you don’t want to go to the studio? You wanted this.”
“I know. I do. It’s just…” She sighed. “I know we’re supposed to be just casually ‘dating’ and not seriously committed, but this damn contest is making it feel so much more real. And we’ve only done short videos. If we go to the studio, we’ll have to pretend for longer and in front of real people. I’m not sure I can recover from that.”
“Do you want to be seriously committed?”
“I don’t know. Even if I did, it’s impossible. Those two on the screen have a happy, loving relationship with a full life in front of them. They don’t have our…crap.”
“Everyone has crap. Life is full of piles and piles of shit. I told you last night about everything Duncan and I still deal with.”
“I know.”
“But the difference is, we let each other see the shit.”
“This metaphor is getting a little gross.”
Amira laughed. “Reena, thiscouldwork for you! Watching you two together, the way he looks at you. It’s not like any of your other relationships. And I think you know that. But I can’t be the only person in the world who gets to see you…allof you. You won’t scare him away.”
Wouldn’t she, though? The Reena she let people see enjoyed drinks at the bar, fresh bread at home, and no drama. Who’d want the real Reena—the neurotic mess with maladaptive coping skills? Who couldn’t manage to keep a job she hated? With a family who never, ever let her be free. None of the other twelve guys had been interested in sticking around once her true self began to emerge.
Amira didn’t say anything for a while as she looked at Reena with a soft expression. “Reena, are you in love?”
Loaded question. She didn’t know if she even knew the answer to that one.
She squeezed her lips together. “I don’t know.”
“I know your impulse is always to deflect and distract, but I think you need to stop doing that. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance.” Amira took both Reena’s hands in her own. “You deserve it. Even though I know you don’t think you do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
One week later Reena was still no closer to gainful employment. She didn’t hear about the Top Crust job, but she also didn’t hear from her mother about her unemployment or Mum’s covert gambling habits, so Reena considered it a draw.
Nadim still came straight to Reena’s apartment every day after work to kiss her with knee-weakening intensity, before retreating to his place to change clothes. They ate dinner together every night and cooked together several times. And each night was spent together in his bed. Reena swore she’d lost three pounds thanks to bedroom exertions alone, and her skin had never been clearer. In fact, she’d wondered what she’d been thinking when she’d decided that celibacy was a good idea—her body and her mind were just kinder to her when she was sexually satiated.
But, of course, she and Nadim didn’t talk. Not really. Not about the past, or the future. Amira’s voice in her ear was persistent in reminding her that all this was wrong. It was wrong to spend so much time with him without ever talking about their future. It was wrong to sleep with him every night without knowing how he really felt about her.
It was wrong to be in love with him without ever telling him. If she was in love, that is. She honestly didn’t know.
But if Reena was good at anything, it was ignoring the voices in her head that told her the path she was on was covered with snakes that would bite her in the ass one day.
Late Thursday night they were in bed when a Google Alert told her the standings after the farm-to-table round were live. The video had gone up Monday morning, and there had been three days of voting. She opened the page right away.
Nadim leaned over her, practically blocking her view of the phone in her hand. “What does it say? Are we getting an all-expenses-paid trip to Toronto this weekend?”
“Did you forget we live in Toronto?”
“Shush. We’d still be getting a night in a posh hotel downtown. Did we make it? I want that FoodTV studio tour!” He tried grabbing the phone out of her hand.
She swatted him away. “You’re like a toddler sometimes.”
“Half hour ago, you said I was all the man you wanted.” He crowded up against her, deliberately pressing his hardening penis against her leg.
Yum.
“If you had faster Wi-Fi, this conversation wouldn’t be happening and we’d already know if we made it to the next round,” she said.
