“Hey!” Duncan said, glaring at his girlfriend. Duncan hadn’t quite gotten used to the fact that Amira and Reena pretty much had no filter with each other.

Amira rolled her eyes. “I meant I’d do him if I was her.”

“I told you he was hot, didn’t I?” Reena asked.

“You said he had an okay face and a hot body. But this guy, he’s easygoing, friendly, charming. Not the kind of person who needs to resort to an arranged marriage at the age of … how old is he?”

“Thirty-two,” Reena said.

“I see why you like him. He reminds me of Jamie Oliver,” Duncan added, head tilted in concentration. As if that was a selling point. Nigella Lawson and Heston Blumenthal were Reena’s preferred British celebrity chefs.

“Actually,” Duncan continued, “Jamie Oliver has that estuary English thing going. This guy sounds like Tom Hiddleston.”

Amira laughed. “Don’t mind him, Duncan’s high school students are putting on My Fair Lady and he’s been studying English dialects.”

They watched in silence a little longer, as on-screen Reena took on-screen Nadim’s hands in hers to show him the right amount of pressure to use when rolling out maani. He mouthed a moan as he leaned in close to her. She didn’t remember him doing that.

“He’s sniffing your hair,” Duncan said. “You sure this is fake?”

Amira laughed. “Maybe he was looking for bugs?”

Reena rolled her eyes. It was possible to have friends who knew too much about your life.

The video finally ended with that kiss, which looked longer on screen than she’d remembered. Duncan turned off the iPad without a word. The silence stretched for several seconds before Reena gave in. “What did you guys think?”

That was the moment Reena’s text-tone rang again. She should have turned the ringer off.

Nadim: Your mother just asked me what I liked best about you. You should be proud of me, I didn’t say your feet.

She put her phone facedown on her leg before Amira or Duncan could see it.

Amira took a breath. “I have three thoughts. One, if I worked at FoodTV and got that video, I’d cancel the whole competition and just give you the prize. You guys were amazing. Two, my worries about you are needless, because the woman in that video is most definitely not alone. I’m glad you have such a good friend nearby right now. And three, you’re going to have to figure out exactly what’s going on between you and that man. Because either that was an Oscar-worthy performance, or your fake fiancé is completely smitten with you. Be careful, Ree.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

By the time Reena made it through Toronto’s seemingly never-ending traffic Sunday evening, she was tired and wanted nothing but her bed. Her mind had spun like her stand mixer on high the whole way home—as Amira’s comment about Nadim being smitten with her whipped through her head. Could it be possible?

In her experience, men like Nadim—handsome, charismatic, educated, and worldly—usually only wanted a surefire hookup or an easy fling from someone like her—an unassuming woman with little higher education and whose obsession with bread left her with a body that looked like it belonged to someone obsessed with bread.