Page 67 of Yours for the Season
It would have, two weeks ago. Right now, the thought of selling out Tom to work for Andy just made her want to take a shower. And yet there was something cheerfully villainous and inherently likable about Andy. Give him a week, and he’d have them all thanking him for the pleasure of his hostile takeover. Everyone except Nadiya, of course. Her sister would never.
The thought of her sister made her pause. Even Andy deserved a fair warning. “To answer your earlier query—my sister is single, but she would rather eat raw goat brains than go out with you.”
Andy shrugged. “I’ve had goat brains. They’re a delicacy in some parts of the world. I’ll grow on her.”
“Like a fungus,” Sameera agreed, and he grinned again.
“You’re a lot funnier than my current representation. Better looking, too. Too bad you’ve discovered principles. Not convenient in a lawyer, Sameera.”
“You’re trying too hard, Andy,” Sameera said. “I’m starting to question your whole persona. I don’t buy the whole evil-rich-guy schtick.”
Andy shrugged. “Every successful CEO industrialist needs a good mythology. You know my story—second-generation immigrant, working-class parents, put myself through school. I took chances and struck gold, but still attend jumah every Friday with my dad.”
“Any of it true?” she asked, remembering what he had said about his father when they were skating.
“Some of it. That bit about jumah was my publicist’s idea. I haven’t talked to my dad in two decades, and the mosque isn’t really my scene.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Sameera asked.
“I think we have a lot in common. We’re both workaholic insomniacs on the outs with family, and we don’t know how to be happy. We both like Tom, even when it feels complicated.”
Sameera blinked at Andy’s frank assessment. “You’re the last person to lecture me on my feelings for Tom. You don’t set the standard on friendship,” she said.
“Stand down, Malik,” he said pleasantly. “You’ve made your position clear. So, let me make mine crystal: This whole place will belong to me soon enough, one way or another.” He winked at her and stood up. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your coffee in peace. Oh, and from one lapsed Muslim to another: Merry Christmas.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
When she climbed back into bed, Nadiya stirred. “Your feet are cold,” her sister grumbled. “Where did you go?”
“I made some coffee, argued with Andy, had an existential crisis. It’s been a busy morning.”
“I called dibs on fighting with Andy,” Nadiya said, her voice sleepy. “Are you okay?”
Sameera considered. She was, surprisingly. “Yes,” she said.
“Good. Merry Christmas.” Nadiya smiled. “I’ve never said that before and meant it.”
Her parents were already up when the girls emerged from their room, and their happiness at seeing their older daughter was immediate. Thankfully, Nadiya didn’t mention any of last night’s excitement, saying simply that she had missed her family. As they chatted in the sitting room, Sameera felt a sense of relief steal over her. Her entire family was together again, everyone she loved in one room. Her heart felt full.
“Nadiya, you will like our hosts,” Tahsin said. “Tom and his family have been so kind. They have another guest, and you’ll never guess who. Andy Shaikh! The one who owns all those bubble tea spots. He’s single, too. I’ve asked for his mother’s contact. What do you think?”
The sisters exchanged a look. Their mother was so predictable—but today Tahsin’s comment felt amusing, and not annoying like it usually would to Sameera.
“I think you shouldn’t WhatsApp a random aunty asking about her son, or she might wonder about your intentions,” Nadiya joked.
While Tahsin laughed, Sameera quietly slipped back to her room. If she hurried, she could catch Tom before the rest of her family assembled. Andy’s ambush this morning had spurred her to action: It was time to tell Tom what was really going on.
Inside the main house, Tom was at the counter, chopping tomatoes, onions, and red peppers for shakshuka, a breakfast dish with coddled eggs, popular in the Middle East. He smiled sheepishly at Sameera after they’d exchanged Christmas greetings.
“I missed cooking,” he admitted. “Also, I took your advice and talked to my dad. Sort of.”
Sameera’s brow rose. “Did you half talk to him?”
“I told him why I don’t cook when I’m here, and then I told him we should talk more, later.”
“A ‘save the date’ type of talk,” Sameera said, and Tom nodded, smiling.
“It felt good to tell him. I thought he would get defensive, but he told me Barb has been on him to do better, to be better. He told me he missed me,” Tom said shyly. Sameera felt her heart softening. She hated what she was about to reveal about someone else he loved.
