“Just to let you know, Amira and Duncan are … a lot.”

He laughed. “A lot what? I’d figured they would be unusual if they are your closest friends.”

“Yes, yes.” She waved her hand while watching the road in front of her. “I know you think I’m weird, but you’re the one who brought a sourdough starter for a weekend in the country.”

“You know Al doesn’t like to miss feedings. Anyway, what’s wrong with your friends?”

She merged into the highway traffic. “Nothing wrong with them, Amira’s just a bit … blunt. She’s an engineer and kind of … cerebral at times. She won’t put up with anyone’s crap—ever. Watch yourself for anything even remotely sexist or racist.”

He chuckled. “What about Duncan?”

“He’s her opposite. He’s a musician and a little eccentric, but easygoing. He teaches high school music and guitar at a private music school. And he sings in an a cappella group. He looks like a lumberjack. Expect a great deal of plaid flannel.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said, pointing to the flannel he was wearing. Nadim’s style had changed so gradually that she barely noticed that he’d almost completely transformed from bougie douche to Brooklyn hipster in the last few weeks.

“And Doug and Shirley, Duncan’s parents, may ask you a lot of questions. They are coming to terms with having a Muslim in the family and are … annoyingly curious.”

Now Nadim really laughed. “Okay, I cannot wait to meet them. They accept your friend, though?”

“Yeah, actually. Everyone expected the worst because they were so conservative, but they adore Amira. Duncan’s brother is a racist dick, though, so it hasn’t been a complete cakewalk, but all things considered …”

“I guess it’s easier to date within your own culture.”

Reena shrugged noncommittally, but she disagreed. Maybe for others dating within their own culture was easier, but for her? No. Dating from within meant family expectations were higher. Parents intruded more. Were involved more. After all, here Nadim and Reena were, apparently “dating within their own culture,” and neither had the balls to tell their parents about the relationship. This was hardly easier.

She finally pulled into the long gravel driveway of Amira and Duncan’s country house to see them on their porch couch, both in jeans and flannel shirts. Reena squeezed her lips shut so as not to laugh at how frickin’ adorable her best friend had become.

“Watching the sunset over the river,” Duncan said, standing as Nadim and Reena approached. Duncan’s eyes narrowed as he made his way toward them in his trademark Duncan-strut and gave Nadim a blatant once-over before crossing his arms in front of him with menace. With the low evening light illuminating his angry eyes and red beard, he looked like a fire Djinn appraising his foe. “Duncan Galahad,” he drawled. “I gather you’re this Nadim we’ve been hearing about?”

Reena rolled her eyes as she climbed the porch steps and sat on the seat Duncan had just vacated. “Hey, Meer. Want to call off your guard dog?”