“With an unhappy ending?” he guessed, finishing her sentence. “You’re not much of a talker. I thought that was practically a job requirement for a lawyer.”
“Attention to detail and no social life are the only requirements, as far as I can tell,” she joked. “Though that might not help me in the new year.” Off Tom’s questioning look, she explained. “My firm is having some financial difficulties. The rumor is that layoffs are coming, and they’re starting with associates who have the lowest billable hours.”
He pointed at her, and she nodded. “I had ... a rough year,” she said.
“Is there anything you can do about it now?” he asked, and she was touched by his concern.
“I plan to work through the holidays to catch up on billable hours and make a Hail Mary attempt not to get fired. Not that it will help much,” she said.
“Any other options?” he asked.
She shook her head. Then, thinking it over, added, “I could hook a whale.”
Tom blinked. “What does that mean?”
“A whale is an important, powerful client, preferably someone with deep pockets and an efficient Business Affairs department that pays promptly. If I could bring one of those clients to the firm, it would stop the axe. I might even get a promotion. The only problem is, I don’t know anyone with resources significant enough to save my job. So, if you have need of a commercial litigator in January, give me a call. I have a feeling I’ll have a lot of time,” she finished glumly.
Tom was giving her a curious look. “I’ll keep you in mind,” he said. “I have to ask—do you even like working for the Undertakers?”
Sameera nodded. “In my field, they’re the best. And I always want to work with the best.”
Tahsin walked back inside the kitchen, her eyes narrowed. “Sameera, have you been hiding here the entire time? Lubna Aunty’s son is waiting.”
“I’m making chai,” Sameera said quickly, and her mother sighed.
“Beta, I only want to help you settle down. You’re working at a prestigious firm. The next step is to find a good partner.” Her gaze moved speculatively between Sameera and Tom, but thankfully, she didn’t say anything. “Your father and I only want what’s best for you.”
Sameera exhaled in relief once Tahsin left the kitchen, and traded a weak smile with Tom. She hoped he wouldn’t judge her, or worse, pity her. “I bet your parents aren’t breathing down your neck, trying to convince you to get married because it’s the right time,” she said, then remembered he’d told her his mother had died when he was a child. “Your dad and stepmom, I mean.”
“Families are complicated. I don’t think my dad cares about my love life at all. Or anything else about me, actually. Even before he cut me off, we didn’t have the best relationship,” Tom said, but his voice grew wistful as he added, “I think about him the most during the holidays. He starts decorating as soon as the Thanksgiving leftovers are put away. My stepmother bakes treats and freezes them, and we used to spend hours picking out our tree. Every year, my dad experiments with a new eggnog recipe. Last time I was home, he tried lime mojito.” He made a face. “Not his finest, but we drank it anyway.”
“It sounds magical,” Sameera said, sighing. She had never celebrated Christmas before, but her family went all out for the two Eid celebrations, especially for the feast after the month of Ramadan. Her father would make delicious snacks for the evening iftar meal throughout the month, while her mother made sure to buy everyone special Eid outfits, newsalwar kameezwith matching accessories. During those lost years, when she had stopped coming home for Eid and observing Ramadan entirely, she missed the little daily rituals most of all. The memory of that time still felt like an open wound; she had taken to working through both Eids, just to keep her mind occupied,yet the feeling of loss never abated. “Will you be spending Christmas with them this year?”
Tom shook his head, and she was about to ask why not when one of her favorite aunties, Fazila, walked into the kitchen.
“Beta, can I have some water?” she asked, holding out a cup. She stared at Tom in frank appraisal while Sameera filled her glass. “You’re much more handsome than her last boyfriend,” Fazila Aunty remarked, and Sameera wanted to sink into the floor.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Tom said, shooting her a grin.
Fazila Aunty accepted the glass from Sameera and patted her arm. “I know we’re supposed to pretend Hunter never existed, but at least this time, you found a man who can cook.”
“It was at the top of my list,” Sameera said. “Right after a good sense of humor and no white-collar financial crimes.”
Tom looked at her strangely once Fazila had left. “Have you considered leaning in?”
Sameera was sorting through the pile of take-out containers, wondering if she could take half without getting busted. “Huh?”
“Tell your family we’re together, and maybe they’ll lay off trying to find you a boyfriend,” Tom said. “At least over the holidays.”
Sameera straightened, shooting him an incredulous look. “They don’t want me to have a boyfriend. My family are observant Muslims—they want me to get married.”
To her shock, Tom jokingly got down on one knee. “Will you pretend to marry me?”
Sameera laughed. “Sure thing, weirdo.”
He took a selfie of the two of them smiling into the camera and shared the picture with her.
“Just so you know it’s an option,” he said, and she shook her head. Tom was a shameless flirt—but she was enjoying the attention. It felt nice, and easy. Not much had felt easy, lately.
