“Keep your chin up, yeah? Let me clean up dinner, and then maybe a cup of tea? Or something stronger?”

She sighed. “I have to wash my hair. The lice stuff.”

“Right. I’ll make tea while you’re in the shower. You can drink it while I’m combing you.”

“Okay.” She got up from the table slowly, straining not to meet his eyes. She couldn’t bear to see pity in them.

“Reena.” He held her arm as she started to walk away. “I’m glad you told me. I won’t tell your parents, you have my word.”

Later, after he helped her rub the noxious chemicals into her scalp, she sat alone on the edge of her tub, letting the bug killer do its thing. She decided then that this could very well be the absolute lowest point in her life.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I’m definitely not finding anything,” Nadim said. They were both on the couch in her living room, sitting sideways. Her wet hair was pulled into sections, which he combed through.

Hallelujah. Duncan was right. “Yay.” She deadpanned, before sipping the tea Nadim had spiked with bourbon. Good man, this one.

“Sorry again to have to put you through this,” he said.

She chuckled. “You’re coming along nicely in your Canadian assimilation. Step up your apologies a bit more, and start ordering your coffee double-double and you’re there.”

He laughed. “I’m doing my best. Eh.”

He combed silently for a while as Reena considered how to get the conversation to steer toward his past again.

“You know,” he said, doing her work for her, “years ago, I had a dream of moving to Canada. It’s a little surprising it’s actually happened.”

“Really? When?”

“As a boy. Before England. Once I got there, I figured I’d end up staying in London.”

“Then why did you come to Canada?”

He didn’t answer right away, but without being able to see his face, she couldn’t guess what he was thinking. “I told you. My father invested with your father and arranged this opportunity for me to learn from him.” He paused. “I’d admired your father’s reputation as a successful real estate developer. I’d heard he was like the Muslim Donald Tr—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“Okay.” He snorted. “But, like, not really, because your father’s reputation is that he’s good. That he’s ethical as well as shrewd. A good, stable man with a brilliant mind for business.”

“You said your father doesn’t usually get involved in your life?”

He exhaled. “No. Not usually.” He sighed as he ran the comb through her hair again. “My mother died when I was six, and my father never remarried. A series of housekeepers pretty much raised me until Dad sent me to boarding school. I was a problem child.”

“I’m sorry. That doesn’t sound like a fun childhood.”

“It didn’t seem terrible at the time. I mean, I had so many friends and we always had fun, but … yeah. I had these two classmates when I was kid—Joseph and Jabari. We used to prank our teachers—you know, like hot sauce in their food, switch the sugar and salt. Harmless stuff.” Nadim laughed. “One time we moved the teachers’ bicycle rack ten centimeters a day for a few weeks. They didn’t notice until the rack was two meters across the field. We were always in trouble. And my father was always punishing me. He had very high expectations for my character but left me on my own to develop that character. I stopped trying to please him a long time ago. And the older I grew, the less he seemed to care about how I was doing.” He shrugged.