Page 12 of The Love Match

Too bad I can’t say the same about his trollishpersonality.

A hint of mischief gleams in Nanu’s eyes. “My, my. Youngandgood-looking. Shunar kofal faiso go, moyna.” She pokes me right between the eyebrows, eternally fond of her Bengali expressions about foreheads predicting one’s fortune. “I wasn’t so lucky. Your nana had quite the beard back in the day, and it itched terribly whenever he kissed me.”

“Nanu!” I yelp, scandalized.

I can’t begrudge her belly-deep laughter, though.

Her wrinkled hand moves to trace a thumb over my cheek, as Amma’s did earlier. “Just because something has always been done a certain way doesn’t mean it’s right. Every day, Ithank Allah for giving you more prospects than your mother and I had. That’s all most parents want for their children. Give the boy another chance, moyna. For me. He may surprise you.”

She smiles, and I meet her gaze, sighing.

“Okay, butonlyfor you.”

Chapter5

Fridays are holy days toMuslims, like Sundays for Christians and the Jewish Sabbath on Saturdays, but I can’t shake the feeling thatmineare cursed.

Last Friday, I attended the wedding where I had the great misfortune of sharing a table with Pushpita Emon. Tonight after work, I have to play the reluctant heroine inDisaster Date: The Sequelat her house.

My prayers to skip straight into Saturday have gone unanswered, so I shove the clothes and makeup Amma set out for me into my backpack and leave the house early enough that I can actually catch a bus to Chai Ho. I’m on time for once.

My best friends cock their heads in tandem as I step through the door.

“Dal, do my eyes deceive me or has our erstwhile third musketeer appeared?” Dani asks in a more-aghast-than-necessary tone, giving the table in front of her a wipe to punctuate each word.

I roll my eyes, accepting a rag from her sister to join them in cleaning. “Haha. I haven’t been latethatoften, have I?”

“Only a handful of times since you started working full-time,” Dalia supplies helpfully.

I heave a sigh. “Mr. Tahir keeping track?”

“Maybe he’ll go easier on you now that he’s hired a new employee,” Dani muses.

My eyes bulge mid-wipe. “He didwhat?”

Mr. Tahir has been threatening to replace me since day one, but I dropped so many desserts and spilled so much tea in those early days without getting the boot—docked paychecks and withheld tips notwithstanding—that I figured it was our schtick. Sure, I’m occasionally a few minutes late, but I’ve always hoped he considered me a good employee, or at least that he pities my family too much to axe me.

Being poor has done no favors for my pride.

The twins must notice my dawning distress, because Dani says, “Breathe, Zar. He’s not firing you. With us working only part-time starting September, he wants more hands on deck. If anything, he needs you now more than ever.”

“You’resure?”

Dalia wiggles her smallest finger. “Pinky promise.”

I sigh, relieved, and move to heft my bag onto the counter, table forgotten. “Good, because I need you to help me hide this somewhere he can’t find.”

“What’s in there?” Dani asks. “Drugs?”

“Yep, a whole kilo,” I deadpan. “Actually, it’s an outfit fora dawath I have to attend after work. We’re going straight from here and I can’t let my shalwar kameez get bunched up or Amma will have my head. I told her Dalia would help me with my makeup too.” I bat my eyes and smile at them in a way that says boththank youandmy bad.

“A dawath, huh?” Dani wrinkles her nose. “Not another wedding, right?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s an invitation to my mother’s friend’s house.”

The twins share one of those twinny glances where they have a whole psychic conversation with each other, while I fidget. They used to look even more identical when we were younger, before Dani cut and bleached her hair—currently purple—and her sister began veiling. Dalia’s also fat, with a face as bright and round and lovely as the moon. But though they’ve changed so much, it’s no less eerie now. I’ve never kept secrets from them and am hoping the Harun situation resolves itself before there’s ever anything to tell.

Dalia cracks first. “I’m always happy to help, Zar.”

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