“We were supposed to be a couple in that video?” he asked. “You told me it was just supposed to be pairs.”

“It’s a family cooking challenge. We were supposed to be family.”

“I thought you didn’t want to marry me,” he said, laughing.

“I don’t. It’s just for the contest. I may not have wanted to enter, but we did. And we’re finalists.”

“So now you want me to do it?”

“I’ll do all the cooking, and you would be like my sidekick. I really want this scholarship. The Asler Institute has the most amazing artisan bread baking program. I’ve wanted to take it for years.”

“I don’t think you need a course, Reena,” he said, watching her hands again. “That bread you gave me last night was divine. And that”—he pointed to the thick, plaited loaf that was forming from the six snakes of dough—“how are you doing that?”

“Practice,” she said, finishing the braid and tucking the ends under. “Look, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I just … I wanted something fun to keep me occupied right now. Things have been … but you don’t have to.” She turned to fetch the beaten egg white she had saved after adding the yolk to the dough and started to brush it over the bread.

“No, of course I’ll do it. I pushed you to enter. I’m not going to bail on you now. What exactly am I saying yes to? More videos?”

“Yes.” She opened the email. “There are four rounds, and it starts with eight couples. Two couples are eliminated through online voting after each round. Rounds one and two are videos that we produce and submit. If we make it to round three, they fly us to Toronto—or I guess we’ll just take the subway. The four couples tape that round in the FoodTV studio and get a tour. Finally the last round will have only two couples, and they send a camera crew to tape it in our own homes.”

“Okay, that’s a lot.”

“I know. And we’ll be pretending to be engaged the whole time. And we have to keep it from my parents. They’re not really into the FoodTV scene and it won’t be on TV, just the website, so I don’t think they’d find out, but it might mean lying to your boss. Would you be okay with all that?”

He nodded. “I gave you lice, Reena. I owe you majorly. But I’d do it anyway. Sounds like a lot of fun.” He paused, watching her again. “Hell, I’d do it if only to watch you cook again.”

“I’m baking now, not cooking.” She smiled. “But I will be cooking for the contest. Home cooking. So, you’re in?”

He grinned. “Yes. Apparently, we’ll be engaged after all.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The balancing act of résumé writing and job searching while hiding her unemployment from her neighbors and family turned out to be no problem whatsoever. Reena just dressed in her usual business casual on Monday and headed to the library with her laptop in hand. She’d worked part-time shelving books in college and was well aware of what some people got up to while using public computers. Ew.