“Just maani?” Nadim asked.

Reena grinned widely now. “Maybe something simple like aloo gobi to go with it, but the maani will be the star. Nothing represents Indian home cooking better, whatever they call it.”

They continued to plan for the video while eating. It needed to be sent in by Sunday, so they were on a bit of a time crunch. The plan was for Marley to dig through their closets on Wednesday to decide on their wardrobe, then film Thursday evening. Shayne would have plenty of time to edit it on the weekend, and they could submit it Sunday night.

Thursday came, and the four of them were crowded in Reena’s kitchen. Marley fluffed Reena’s curls while Shayne placed LED lights on long black poles. They’d already been waiting an hour for Shayne to finish setting up, and Reena was getting a little impatient with his constant “almost got its.” Especially since Marley had rejected the sensible business casual and yoga pants in Reena’s closet, instead squeezing her into skinny jeans about two sizes too tight and black high-heeled ankle booties a size too small. Nadim fared better, as Marley had found appropriate clothes in his own closet—dark wash jeans and a blue V-neck sweater. The royal blue looked amazing against his warm skin, and thankfully, Marley insisted he keep his douche beard shaved off.

“How come I don’t get an apron?” Nadim asked, tugging on the pale blue apron tied around Reena’s waist.

“I’ll do the cooking. You’re here for amusing banter and endless admiration.” Reena glanced at the items she had laid out on the counter. Whole wheat durum atta flour, canola oil, salt, and warm water. She’d insisted on using locally grown canola oil and flour, as it would give her an interesting fact to talk about during the clip. The video needed to be five minutes long, and when they’d rehearsed it yesterday, filling the time with something other than just rolling out maani proved to be a challenge. Closer to the stove, precut cauliflower and potatoes waited for her, along with a bowl of peas and a gleaming new polished stainless-steel masala dabba holding little round pots of fragrant spices.

“Okay, guys, almost there,” Shayne said.

“Finally.” Reena moved into position. “These shoes are killing me. Why do I have to wear them? No one will see my feet behind the counter.”

“Needed you a touch taller,” Marley said.

“Not making much of a difference,” Reena muttered. “Still too short.”

Nadim looked down at her. “I like you pocket-size. Hey, is that our engagement ring?” He pointed at the wide, silver-toned ring with clear rhinestones channel-set throughout.

“Yep. And it’s already turning my finger green. Shayne swears he didn’t get it from a gumball machine, but I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’m ready,” Shayne said.

A few seconds of getting into position, and Shayne yelled, “Action!”

Reena froze, staring at the camera. This had been easier with gin. Nadim poked her hip.