“It’s weird,” she continued as she pinched off a piece of dough for the next dumpling. “I’m, like, super happy to be Indian, and the food and culture are awesome, but we’re Muslim, too. With the nationalistic sentiments getting stronger, at some point we may have to examine our obsession with Bollywood and question what we are supporting. That’s why I picked the movie Amar, Akbar, Anthony this week. I wanted to see if it really does celebrate religious tolerance like I remember it does. Also, that scene with Amitabh jumping out of an egg and dancing is epic. Too bad we couldn’t have done a seventies theme again for tonight. Remember? Asha made the best pineapple upside-down cake the last time we watched a swank seventies movie.” She couldn’t do a theme party on the week she was trying to be sophisticated to impress Anil.

Kamila then noticed Rohan was no longer making momos and was looking at her, a curious expression on his face.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” she asked, looking at the momo in her hand.

His eyes were wide, and his expression was a new one. The slightest hint of…admiration. “No. It’s what you said about India. This is what I mean when I say people underestimate you. I think they’re making a big mistake.”

“Nonsense. I’m exactly who I appear to be.” She turned on the stove to heat the water in the steamer. “Now, are you ready to get all hot and steamy with me?” She winked.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “There’s my Kam. Trouble to the core. You going to tell me where your tattoo is yet?”

She smiled impishly. “Nope. You’ll just have to use your imagination. You can thank me for that later, because that daydream is going to be life changing.”

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

By some stroke of divine luck, most of the momos were steamed and on the tiered platter by the time Asha and Nicole arrived at the brownstone.

“Yay!” Asha said as Kamila spooned chutney into gold bowls. “Momo Hut!”

Kamila beamed with pride. “Nope. Hussain Hut! We made these. Rohan and I.”

“Really?” Asha pulled a spoon out of the drawer and tasted the chutney. She frowned. “This is good.” She looked at Rohan. “I’m going to need the recipe.”

Rohan grinned. “Ask Kam. She made the chutney and the paneer kebobs. I only helped with the momos.”

“Did anything catch fire?”

Kamila crossed her arms and glared at her so-called friend.

“Don’t listen to her, Kam,” Rohan said. “You were awesome. Very competent in the kitchen today.”

He hadn’t mentioned the wet-tissue momos or pointed out that the paneer wasn’t supposed to be blackened, so she gave him a smile. “Thanks to you. If the finance thing ever grows stale, we should give it all up and open a momo cart on Queen West.”