Page 23 of The Love Match

Thank God for my friends, though, because they pick up on my tactless cue and nod along. Dalia hops off the table to do up her father’s tie, while Dani bulldozes him toward the door, catching the car keys Ximena tosses at her from a hook behind the counter and pushing them into his hands.

“Zahra’s right. We’ve got this, Abbu!” says Dalia.

“Don’t want Ammu to make ya sleep on the couch, do we?” Dani chimes.

The twins shove him out the door. Before he knows it, Mr. Tahir is blinking at us from the sidewalk. To his credit, he broaches the subject one last time with an incredulous, “Why so eager to close up all of a sudden? Usually, I can’t pay you enough to do it, especially on weekends.”

That’s not strictly true. I’d take any extra shifts he offered.

Without missing a beat, the twins say in unison, “For oldtimes’ sake, before we go off to college,” and that’s that.

He huffs and stomps toward his minivan, grumbling a final reminder for them to be careful on the way home. Although he comes off as very gruff, Mr. Tahir actually has a gooey marshmallow center—halal, of course—when it comes to his daughters and wife.

“You three are lifesavers,” I declare once he’s out of sight.

“How exactly did we save you this time?” Dani asks, hitting me with an unimpressed double-eyebrow arch nigh identical to her father’s, arms crossed over a Ms. Marvel T-shirt.

“You’ve been acting kind of twitchy, Zar,” Ximena adds.

Ah, so theyhavenoticed my caginess.

Dalia tackles the topic with more decorum. “Is something going on at home?”

Yes. No.Yes.

I risk a peek over my shoulder at the open kitchen door, but now that Mr. Tahir is gone, a humming Nayim appears otherwise occupied with stacking dishes inside the wooden cupboards all around the kitchen without breaking any new ones.

Having clocked my unease, however, Dani strides casually behind the counter and kicks the door shut in one smooth motion while giving the surface one last exaggerated swipe. She then turns her no-nonsense gaze back to me and steeples her fingers, rag forgotten.

“Spill. The. Chai.”

I all but blurt out everything that’s happened in the pastweek, starting with the wedding and ending with what was decided at Harun’s house yesterday.

“But neither of us are into it,” I hurry to assure them, out of breath after my long-winded explanation. “We’re going to do whatever we can to make it seem like we’d be a disaster couple, so our parents put the whole matchmaking ruse out of their heads by September.”

I don’t admit that Harun is sort of cool.

And hot… if you’re into the repressed Mr. Darcy type, which I’m totally not.

That’snot as important right now as them not getting the wrong impression of me. They’ve always known that I didn’t so much as look at boys in high school because I was too busy helping my mom with the bills, but I don’t want them to think I’m the sort of person who’d hook up with one just because of the size of his wallet, like Harun apparently does.

Would it help us out? I guess so. Rich people who say, “Money can’t buy you happiness,” are bald-faced liars, ’cause being poor sure doesn’t do it for me.

But trading my heart for wealth? That’snot who I am.

I peer at the three of them helplessly, trying to convey all this. The twins exchange a look I can’t quite decrypt. Another of their silent psychic conversations, even more formidable than the ones Harun and I shared last night.

At last, Dalia says, “I’m sorry you have to deal with this, Zar. Of course, we’re happy to help however we can with staging the breakup.”

“Yeah, girl,” Dani adds. “Just say the word and I’ll happily tell your mom you can’t marry this guy because you and I are running off to Paris together.”

I snort. “Yeah, because then my mother, your parents,andMena would team up to hunt me down. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Ximena fake-glares between us. “Mm-hmm, you’d better not leave me behind, Dan. I want to see the Eiffel Tower too.”

The kitchen door creaks open.

“Did someone mention Paris?” Nayim asks, moving to join us.

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