Accidentally Engaged

by Farah Heron

  But who could she trust to feed him for two days on such short notice?

  She grabbed her last loaf of rye bread—this one a classic dark rye—and deliberately refrained from putting on shoes, socks, or slippers before knocking loudly on Nadim’s door.

  He answered, wearing dress pants and a dress shirt, no tie, and a startled expression on his face.

  “Reena. What’s wrong…”

  “Sorry to bug you so early, but…you said we were friends, right?”

  He looked down at the loaf of bread in her hand. He may have sneaked a glance lower at her feet, but she couldn’t be sure. “Of course.”

  “Well, here.” She handed him the bread. “I’m not going to get through this, since I’m going away for the weekend. And…I have a favor to ask you. You’ll think it’s strange, but—”

  He took the bread, and one eyebrow shot up. “Is it kinky?”

  “No!” She shook her head in disbelief. “Jesus, do you have any social boundaries?”

  He laughed. “No, not with my friends. What do you need?”

  “I need someone to feed Brian while I’m away.”

  “You have a pet? And his name is Brian?”

  “No, Brian’s not a pet…He’s my…he’s a sourdough. Well, one of them.”

  “He’s a what?”

  She sighed. “He’s a sourdough starter.”

  “A sourdough starter.”

  “Yes, it’s a mixture of flour and water that contains natural yeast. It needs to be fed so the yeast can leaven my bread. C’mon, you’ve had my bread before, how did you think I made it?”

  “It just never occurred to me that people raised their own starters. People who aren’t pioneer homesteaders.”

  Reena frowned. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Look, can you help me or not? It’s not that big a job.”

  “No, of course. If you need me to feed your sourdough, I will. I’m just finding this to be the oddest favor a friend has ever asked of me.”

  She rolled her eyes as she motioned him into her apartment. She took Brian down from the windowsill and placed him on the counter. “This is Brian. He’s pretty young. A rye starter…Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m seeing a whole different side of you. So nurturing. How many kids should we have?” There was way too much mischief in his voice for this hour.

  “I’m not marrying you. And I told you there’s more to me than bread and feet.”

  He laughed. “Clearly…” He deliberately leered at her bare toes and waggled his eyebrows. “Those are your strongest assets, though.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Fine, fine. I’ll behave,” he said. “Teach me how to take care of Brian.”

  She showed him the steps of feeding the starter: discarding half, then mixing in equal amounts by weight of flour and water.

  “Why’d you throw away half?” he asked.

  “Because you need it to double each time you feed it. If you don’t toss half, you’ll end up with too much starter. It’d grow exponentially, forever.”

  “What a waste! What you should do is—”

  “Don’t should on me, buddy. I don’t normally throw it away. I make bread with it, that’s the point. And you’re this close to never getting any of that bread again.”

  He smiled that charming smile. “I’m just kidding. This will be fun. Nice to have someone to keep me company while you’ll be gone. Does Brian prefer quiet nights at home or long walks on the beach?”

  “Ha-ha. Smart-ass.”

  * * *

  After leaving Brian, a bag of flour, a bottle of spring water, and her kitchen scale with Nadim, she changed and packed for the weekend. Her phone rang just as she zippered the bag. She glanced at the call display.

  Her father. Her father never called her.

  “Hi, Dad. What’s going on?” She sat on her bed, body tensed in preparation for bad news.

  “Your mother tells me you are going north for the weekend.”

  “Yes, I took the day off work so I could head to Amira’s early.”

  “Can we speak before you leave? I’m at the project site all day.”

  “Today?” she asked. Also, alone?

  “Yes. We can go for coffee. Nadim is at an off-site meeting with a restaurant developer this morning.”

  Hmm. Why did Dad bring up Nadim?

  Reena took a deep breath. She should be good at keeping secrets by now but was actually terrible at it. It seemed a wonder her parents didn’t thrust her into speech therapy as a kid with how often she hesitated and said um…

  She really had no choice here. “Um…okay. I can be there in about an hour.”

  After Reena finished packing her hair products and makeup, she downed a quick cup of coffee before taking her bags to her car. It was a twenty-minute drive to Dad’s worksite. When she got there, she parked in the gravel lot and went looking for him.

  Reena hadn’t been to the Diamond project in a while, and she couldn’t help but be impressed at the progress since then. A medium-size low-rise building, it was loosely modeled after European mixed-use structures, with space at the bottom for stores and restaurants and four levels of condos and rental units facing into a large center courtyard. The building stood on the edge of a big residential subdivision in the city of Markham, filled with cookie-cutter single-family homes. It had been a major challenge to get zoning approval, but Reena had never been prouder of her father than when he won it, and seeing the project now, in the last stages of construction, the pride swelled in her heart even more.

  And to think, he’d almost lost all this thanks to that architect guy. Reena tensed a bit as she peeked into the building. She didn’t want to think about how, in a way, the success of this project was resting on her and Nadim’s shoulders.

  She found her father outside the building, talking to a man who looked like a construction foreman. “Reena,” he said. “This is Igor. I’m sorry I don’t have time to show you around—I have a meeting in an hour—but after we have coffee, Igor can show you our progress. We’ll have to drive. There is nothing around here.”

  She followed him to his car. Aziz Manji was an imposing man. Tall, at least tall by Indian standards, and with a full head of black hair even in his fifties. His appearance reflected his intelligence and his respectability in the community, where he was revered and admired for his philanthropy as well as for the modest empire he had grown from the bottom up. None of the Manji children had inherited his stature or dignity.

  They went to a Tim Hortons doughnut shop a decent distance from the project. “There’s nothing closer,” he said. “I don’t understand why the neighborhood fought against the development. Who wants to go so far for tea?”

  “You guys putting a coffee shop in the building?”

  “Yes.” He pulled into the parking lot. “In the corner unit. Nadim is negotiating with developers.”

  Dad bought some doughnuts, a coffee for her, and a tea for himself. “Shh,” he said with a smile. “Don’t tell Saira I’m eating doughnuts. Or maybe we’ll tell her they’re made with kelp and kale?”

  Reena laughed before suddenly stilling. She couldn’t remember the last time her father cracked a joke. She blew gently on her coffee.

  “I wanted to speak to you about Nadim,” Dad said.

  “Okay…” she responded, raking her brain to sort through which parts of their friendship she could reveal. The contest, the shared beers, the lice…definitely not. The foot rub? Most definitely not.

  “I know your mother has hopes for you and him,” Dad said, seemingly oblivious to Reena’s distraction. “An eligible man around your age with a master’s degree from LSE? It is a blessing he has come into our lives and is eager to join our family.”

  Ugh. Nadim was nothing but the letters after his name. She sighed. On the surface, Dad cared a lot about “young people starting out,” as he put it. The goal of this project was to provide affordable home ownership to millennials who had been
priced out of the city. But when it came to his own children, he just spewed orders and expected them to obey. Or used them as bait to lure investors.

  “I understand you have had the opportunity to get to know the man?” he asked.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “Um, yes. A little.”

  “What are your thoughts?”

  Reena blinked. Her thoughts? What could she say? Bit of a rake, a definite flirt, and in the possession of a weirdly charming foot fetish? A man who had very, very talented hands…

  She swallowed. “He seems…interesting. Well-rounded. Smart, too.”

  “Have you met any of his friends?”

  Friends? Did he have any? She couldn’t recall Nadim mentioning friends to Reena. Ever.

  Dad’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe there is any value to listening to this kind of chatter, but I heard rumors about Nadim’s past. I hoped you would help me confirm they aren’t true.”

  Reena stilled. “What rumors?”

  “Just some rumblings that he may have been involved with some underhanded people. I don’t know much about his life in London. Has he told you anything?”

  “No. Honestly, he hasn’t mentioned anything.” In fact, he specifically expressed a desire to keep his past hidden, so maybe there was something to Dad’s rumors.

  “Could you keep an eye out for anything that looks amiss about the man? I want to preserve the reputation of the business.”

  “You want me to spy on him?” This was rich. Not two minutes ago he was encouraging her to marry the man because of his MBA.

  Dad shook his head. “I didn’t say spy.”

  “But that is what you’re asking.”

  Dad frowned. “I have to protect this project and the family’s good name. I trust your judgment, maybe more than anyone’s.” He sighed. “Find out more about him. Who does he have associations with? Who is important to him? Both here and overseas. You’ll know if you hear something that doesn’t sound right.”

  Amazing. Her mother wanted her to find out what kind of daal the man liked, and her father wanted to know who his friends were. Why didn’t they just ask him? Reena picked at her doughnut, scraping a fingernail full of the maple icing and sucking it off her finger. And besides, Dad trusted her? Bullshit. He only said that now because he wanted intel on his protégé.

  She knew little about Nadim and his life before he moved to Toronto, and she knew he was hiding things from her. A hollowness formed in her core. She trusted Nadim. Maybe too much?

  “Can I count on you to be honest with me, Reena?”

  And that was the crux of it. Reena had never been honest with her father. Not at sixteen, when she snuck out of her bedroom window to meet boys, not when she happily told him how much she loved working in finance, and certainly not now, out of work, and making cooking videos for a national contest. Did her father realize she never told the whole truth? Probably. After all these years, he had to know.

  But the stakes were higher now. And this little heart-to-heart was his way of reminding her of that. Asking her to meet him specifically at the building so she could see its progress. Buying her a doughnut and making a joke about their alliance against Saira. And finally telling her, for the first time, that he trusted her judgment. These confessions were intentional. All the family finances were tied up in this project. Even if Reena didn’t care too much about her parents’ opinion of her, she didn’t want to see them lose everything. This was her family.

  And Dad wanted her to decide if she had their back. Did she?

  She had a lot to think about while up north this weekend.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Is this some sort of intervention? And why did Duncan leave to feed turkey to chickens?”

  The calming view of the river across the street from Amira’s house framed by trees dappled with shades of orange, red, and yellow did nothing to soften the effect of the unique torture that Reena just endured. For the last ten minutes, her best friend in the whole world had been listing everything wrong in Reena’s life with the thorough accuracy and attention to detail one would expect from a brilliant industrial engineer.

  Reena curled her feet under her on the soft couch on the porch, hugging her warm chai close. It still felt strange that this beautiful century house belonged to her best friend. Up until this siege of misery, it had been a lovely weekend. Well, it had been lovely only after Duncan’s absolutely mortifying lice check as soon as Reena got there. He was a teacher and practically raised his niece, so he claimed to be an expert. Once he was sure Reena was bug-free, he made a crack about Nadim not knowing a louse from a mouse, and welcomed Reena into his home. Reena was relieved there were no bugs, but maybe life would be less embarrassing if she didn’t tell Amira absolutely everything that happened to her. Now she felt like she was under a magnifying glass again, this time with Amira inspecting her instead of Duncan.

  “It’s not an intervention. And Duncan left to go feed his parents’ chickens, since they are in Turkey. I told you about the Galahads’ new fascination with Islamic architecture,” Amira said, before blowing gently on her mug. “Besides, isn’t an intervention supposed to be a roomful of judging people pretending to be concerned? This is just you and me.”

  Another shovel of shit to add to the steaming pile. Even if she did need an intervention, who would come? Mum, Dad, or Saira? Laughable. Khizar maybe, but with two babies and a promotion coming, his middle sister wasn’t high on his list of concerns right now.

  “I’m fine, Amira,” Reena assured her friend.

  “Screw fine, Ree!” Amira threw her arms in the air, causing a small spurt of chai to erupt from her mug. “You’re always fine. The fucking house is on fire, and you’re that idiotic dog with a cup of coffee saying this is fine. It’s not fine. You’ve been downsized, again. Your father has all but traded you in a business deal and is now asking you to spy on the man he wants you to marry. A man who slept with a flea-ridden kindergarten teacher!”

  Reena blinked at Amira. She really didn’t need this mirror held up in front of her life. Deflect and distract time. “Meer, why is there a couch on your front porch?”

  “Don’t you play that deflection game on me.” Amira clenched her teeth. Reena knew her friend was currently counting under her breath to calm herself. “I know what happened when you were out of work before. You barely left your apartment and subsisted on bourbon and baguettes for weeks. You need people—wallowing a little bit is okay, but you can’t stay like that. When’s the last time you went on a date?”

  Reena’s phone erupted in a Highland jig, and since Reena understood exactly how the universe worked, she had a good idea who the text would be from.

  Nadim: I’m hiding my phone under the table so they don’t notice me texting you. Am I supposed to mention that your sister is only eating what looks like seaweed when your mum made daal, eggs, and paratha?

  “Who’s that?” Amira asked.

  “Nadim. He’s brunching with the fam and judging Saira’s food choices.”

  Amira snorted. “Haven’t we all? But why’s he texting you?”

  “He texts me a lot. We’re friends.”

  Another text.

  Nadim: She’s offering me seaweed. She isn’t flirting, is she? I’m still a little frightened of your sister.

  Reena wrote back.

  Reena: Rule number one when dealing with Saira. Never accept the seaweed.

  Nadim: Noted.

  At that moment Duncan’s truck pulled into the driveway. Amira didn’t even look up as her boyfriend got out and walked up the porch stairs.

  “You sure, Ree?” Amira asked.

  “She sure about what?” Duncan asked as he wedged himself on the couch between them. Reena shifted to make room for him.

  Amira pointed at Reena. “Is she sure she doesn’t have a thing going on with her intended on the down-low.”

  “I’d hope she’d notice if she was,” Duncan responded.

  Another text came through.
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br />   Nadim: I asked your mother why she made three kinds of daal, and she said it was your fault.

  Reena snorted.

  Reena: You going to blame me or thank me for that?

  Nadim: Thank you, of course.

  Reena smiled, putting her phone away. “I’m not involved with Nadim.”

  Amira, amazingly, sat quietly for a few moments before turning to Reena again. “Is he still all flirty? You think he’s into you?”

  She bit her lip, thinking. “Don’t think so. I do think he’d still marry me if I agreed, though. Although, not because he likes me, or anything, but because of Dad.”

  Amira frowned. “He’d marry you, but you don’t think he’s into you? That’s weird. This is all weird.”

  The bagpipes rang again, but this time, when Reena checked her phone, it was Shayne texting that he was done editing the video.

  He sent a password-protected link to take a look at it on a shared drive. Amira grabbed an iPad so they all could watch it together on the porch.

  Despite the embarrassment of seeing herself all dolled up on the screen, curiosity kept Reena’s eyes glued to it. Would the edited clip be as great as it seemed when they’d filmed it?

  Immediate answer: yes. And then some. This was night and day compared to the audition video. Shayne’s videography skills were more than above average, and Marley’s clothing, hair, and makeup took Reena’s usual look up several notches. And this time? It wasn’t just Nadim’s magnetic on-screen persona coming through, but both of theirs. Nadim and Reena. They matched. They looked like a team. A real couple, or at least the best of friends.

  “That’s Nadim?” Amira asked, surprised.

  “Yeah,” Reena said. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

  Amira’s eyes narrowed at the screen. “I don’t know. He’s not what I expected. You said he talked like he went to an English private school?”

  “He did. He does.”

  Amira frowned. “I guess I expected him to be more formal, or something. Stuffy. This guy…I don’t know. He’s hot. I’d do him.”

  “Hey!” Duncan said, glaring at his girlfriend. Duncan hadn’t quite gotten used to the fact that Amira and Reena pretty much had no filter with each other.