She really hoped their foundation was strong enough to keep their bubble.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

After finally emerging from his bedroom, Reena was delighted to learn that her new boyfriend was a pretty good cook. The shrimp was perfectly cooked, even if the pasta wasn’t quite as al dente as she usually preferred. And as she suspected, the bread was good, too. After they ate, they sat on his couch to watch the Home Cooking Showdown videos together.

They’d seen their own clip, of course. But watching it with the other seven couples’ videos confirmed three things to Reena. One, as a fake couple they had more chemistry than most of these real couples. Two, FoodTV wasn’t kidding when they said they were looking for diverse contestants. There were three same-sex married couples, including one where both men were unfortunately named Jeff, and half the pairings had one or two people of color in them. Reena and Nadim weren’t even the only Muslim pairing. And three, Shayne and Marley were geniuses. Because Nadim and Reena were lit better, dressed better, and edited better than all the other videos.

There was no question in Reena’s mind, with only two contestants being eliminated this round, that they had a definite shot at moving on. And now that they were a real couple instead of a fake one (although not engaged), their chemistry might be even better in round two. Reena could practically hear the crack of the baguette crust she’d be making in that course.

“How do we know how we’re doing?” Nadim asked after they had voted for themselves. Because who else would they vote for?

“We don’t. They’ll show the number of votes next week. And if we’re not eliminated, we’ll have a few days to upload the next video.”

He snorted. “We won’t be eliminated. My money for the next round is on us, the hijabi woman and her daughter, that couple from Hamilton, the Jeffs, and the Jamaicans.”

Reena giggled. “Six groups move on. That’s only five.”

“And that’s why we have this in the bag. There is no way we’re in the bottom two. I would tell everyone I know to vote for us, but we don’t need the help. Not with you cooking, anyway.”

Reena grinned. He was right. They had this round. No question about it.

Reena was surprised to see her father at her door Saturday morning, a scant half hour after Nadim had left her apartment for yet another meeting with a restaurant developer.

She had assumed that after Nadim told his father he wouldn’t be marrying Reena, Shiroz Remtulla would call her father about their children’s abject failure at uniting the families. And, of course, Dad would want to confront her on it. But she wasn’t expecting a parental house call.

“Dad. This is a surprise.”

“Why would you be surprised? I am your father.” Dad strolled in and stood near the breakfast bar like he owned the place. Which was fair—he did.