He laughed as he crumbled feta with his hands. “It’s sometimes hard to believe you’re the same person as the kid I grew up with,” he said. “I’m five years older than you, and I think you taught me my most colorful profanity. So, you’ve had shakshuka, then? I haven’t wowed you with something new?”

She pulled down her wood baguette platter board and put the now-sliced bread on it. “Did you really think you could find anything I’ve never experienced? I’ve had shakshuka at that North African brunch place downtown. I didn’t know you could make it, though, or I would have come to your place instead. For some reason I seem to enjoy your flavor of patronizing hipster better than most.”

“I’m not patronizing. And hardly a hipster.”

Kamila leaned over to pat his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re patronizing. You are more stuck-up preppy than hipster, though.” She eyed him head to toe exaggeratedly. “Although, look at you today. Mr. Buttoned-Up is in a hoodie, and are those blue jeans? Dressing like the proletariat?”

He shook his head, laughing.

“Where’s Dad?” she asked.

“Still sleeping, I assume.”

Darcy started scratching at the back door, ready to be brought in, so Kamila opened the door and dried off her dog with a towel. “I wish it would stop raining,” she said. It was so gloomy, and her headache wasn’t easing. She sat on the floor and hugged her dog close. Even while smelling like wet dog, Darcy was a comfort.

Dad came down the stairs at that moment. “It’s raining hard out there. I hope the roof holds. Maybe we should call the townhouse board?”

“It will be fine, Dad. The roof was done six months ago, remember?”

“Yes, but I think they did it wrong. With so many vents and peaks—it’s so easy to overlap the shingles backward. I’ll—”

“Dad.” She got up and led him to the dining table. “Don’t worry so much. Come, sit. Rohan made breakfast. It looks delicious.”

Kamila was still annoyed at Rohan, but after sitting down to eat, she reluctantly admitted to herself that his shakshuka was very good.

“This is tasty, right, Dad?” Kamila asked. “Healthy breakfasts can be satisfying, too.”

“Especially when they’re not burnt,” Rohan added. Unnecessarily.

Dad scooped some tomatoes and egg with his bread. “I could eat like this every day.”

“Good. Because you might have to.” She arched an eyebrow at Dad. “Are you ready to tell us your test results now?”

Dad sighed and put down his toast. “I didn’t want to worry you, beti. You had your party yesterday.”

“Blood sugar was high. What else?” she asked.

Dad sighed. “Cholesterol. And blood pressure, but you knew that. And apparently, my heart is stressed. According to my EKG.”