Before I can comment, a warm hand situates my blanket on my shoulders again and I look back to see Dadu standing there, examining Ace.

“Myra, who’s this?”

“As-salaam alaikum!” Ace says which is enough to give me a head rush. Did he just say salaam to my grandma? “You must be Karina’s grandmother. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Alistair Clyde.”

“Oh my God,” I say under my breath. I can’t believe he showed up here. My one relief is that my parents are far, far away, otherwise my head would already be on a pike on the lawn.

Dadu raises her eyebrows. “Wa-alaikum salaam.” Even though she’s far from fluent, she definitely knows enough English to understand Ace’s introduction. Still, she continues in Bengali, “Myra, is he your friend?”

“Kind of?” I say, offering her an uncertain look. “I can tell him to go.”

“No,” Dadu says, and she smiles. The relief I feel at the upturn of her lips is enough to unlock my muscles. “He can come inside. I’ll start preparing lunch.”

“But...our movie marathon,” I say, glancing back at the television from the doorway.

She pats my cheek fondly. “There will be other movie marathons,” she says before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.

“What’s the verdict? Does she like me?” Ace asks. “Can I come in?”

I shake my head, incredulous, but open the door wider. “I guess so. Did you really say as-salaam alaikum to her, or did I hallucinate that?”

“I Googled proper etiquette for addressing Muslim elders on my way here,” he admits, running a hand through his dark, unruly hair. “Did I butcher the pronunciation?”

“Surprisingly, no.” I lead the way into my living room after Ace takes off his boots. “Welcome to my humble abode. Except mine is actually humble compared to your mansion.”

He snorts. “It’s not a mansion.”

“You’re not allowed to have an opinion.” I take my seat on the couch again. I wiggle my foot toward the other couch, but Ace sits down next to me. I don’t know why I even bothered.

“Watch yourself,” I warn him lightly. He raises his eyebrows and I add, “My grandma could come back any second.”

His response is to smirk, which is far from reassuring, but he makes a point of scooting over a few inches.

I sigh, shaking my head at him. I’d be more worried if Dadu hadn’t invited Ace into our home, but as it stands, he’s already here. So long as he keeps his hands to himself, it’ll be fine.

I hope.

“Where’d she go anyway?” he asks, glancing toward the dining room. “Did I scare her away?”

“You give yourself too much credit,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “She went to make lunch.”

“But I brought soup,” Ace says, bemused.