Despite Tahsin’s protests, Barb quickly agreed to the plan—the parents would head into town, while the younger set stayed behind.
“Have fun messing around in the kitchen,” Rob said, his parting shot.
Sameera flung a sickly-sweet smile his way. “Thank you, Rob. We sure will.”
Tom shook his head at her after the parents had left soon afterward. “You didn’t have to do that. I was trying to buy you time. I know you’re buried under work.”
“So what else is new,” Esa muttered.
“Your sister works really hard,” Tom said, but Esa rolled his eyes.
“We get it, you love your girlfriend. You don’t have to perform for us.”
“We’re not together,” Tom said.
“‘Situationship,’ ‘dating,’ whatever you want to call it. I really don’t care,” Esa said. “I’m here to film. What are we making today? I’m hungry.”
“You just ate your weight in eggs, toast, and fruit,” Sameera said, smiling at her always-hungry teenage brother.
“What’s your point? Less talking; more cooking and filming.”
In the end, Tom convinced Sameera she should get some work done while he talked over ideas with Esa and Cal. She didn’t need much convincing—after the movie night with her family and then sleeping late, the familiar panicky feelings were creeping up.
She returned to her room in the guesthouse and settled in to answer emails. She’d managed to concentrate for almost an hour when Bee texted her.
Helllooo? Are you alive? Do I need to send a hot rescue SEAL team? Blink once for yes, twice forYes, Please.
Sameera stretched first. Her legs were cramping. She answered quickly.Sorry, things have been busy.
Bee’s response was immediate:In bed with Tom busy?
Sameera smiled.Trying to catch up on work busy, you perv.
There’s been no video uploaded in the past two days. Inquiring minds want to know.
Sameera imagined her friend drinking coffee, Lorenzo lounging by her side. Sameera changed the subject.Have you heard anything from work?
I’m on vacation. What’s work?
Just then, her laptop pinged with a notification, and Sameera’s heart sped up. It was from HR. She skimmed the email quickly and tried not to pass out. She typed a message to Bee.
HR wants a meeting the first day I’m back to review my work. This is it. I’m getting fired.
Bee added an exclamation point to her message.What? Are you serious?
Sameera’s heart was pounding as she typed.I should be grateful they kept me around this long.
Bee’s indignation was clear from her text:The Undertakers are lucky to have you. Listen to me: DoNotpanic. DoNotspiral. You’re going to hook a whale, and if that doesn’t work, I promise you can move in with me. I’ll kick Lorenzo out to make room, don’t worry.
But it was too late. Sameera was already spiraling, sinking under a cloud of shame. She remembered the last time she had felt this way—after she’d failed the bar exam on her first attempt. When she’d received the results, four months after she had written the two-day exam, she couldn’t believe it. She was an excellent student. There must have been some mistake.
Except there wasn’t. Despite extensive preparation, she had failed. And Georgia had a near 70 percent pass rate! The humiliation she had felt then was debilitating.
She was still with Hunter at the time, and his reaction didn’t help.I hope you can still pay your half of the rent,was his only comment. His cold response had stung, but Hunter had always been brutally honest—it was one of the things she had admired about him, when they’d first gotten together. It took her years to realize that he often used his so-called honesty to justify his cruelty.
No other words of encouragement?she had thrown back, jokingly.
Study harder next time.
