“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’smywedding,” 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 areal 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 claimednone 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 recipes, passed down from our mothers and grandmothers, are like the cornerstone of our culture.”
