“I, um…” He rubbed his palm.
She squeezed her lips to stifle a laugh. “Brian had puppies? Didn’t I tell you not to let him out without tying him up?”
Nadim threw his arms in the air. “Your bread is so good! This stuff is precious gold! I couldn’t throw away half each time…so I bought some jars and just kept it all. But then I had to feed those ones, too, and…” His shoulders slumped.
Reena stood frozen a few seconds before finally bursting out in giggles. “Were you planning to hide all this starter from me? What were you going to do with it? At this rate, you’ll have thirty-two jars tomorrow morning!”
He shrugged. “I know, I know. I didn’t think this through. I thought I could hide it and get you to teach me to make bread and then I could use it up. But I get that this isn’t sustainable.” He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck.
She giggled again.
“Stop laughing at me,” Nadim said.
“Stop being adorable then. If you didn’t want to throw away the discard, you didn’t have to put it all in separate jars, you could have put it all in a big bowl. And there are a lot of ways to use up discard starter. Tons of recipes online.”
His brows furrowed. “That was my next step.”
This was too funny. If she hadn’t come home his entire apartment would have been nothing but jars of sourdough. Eventually the bubbling starter would’ve eaten him. She frowned. Wasn’t that a horror book?
“So, will you teach me? I did well with the maani, right? I think I can make sourdough,” he said.
She smiled. So much for deflect and distract. She couldn’t abandon him now, after he’d hilariously kept sixteen distinct sourdough starters. He looked at her, those brown eyes a little sheepish. Not a trace of the confident rake. This Nadim was rather endearing.
“Tell you what,” she said. “Give me Brian and toss the rest of the starter into a plastic container in the fridge.”
“Why? What do I do with it?”
“It’ll be fine for a week. Next weekend, we’ll make sourdough pancakes, or rye English muffins, or something that doesn’t need active starter. And I’m happy to teach you to make sourdough bread in the meantime.”
He grinned widely, that unexpected dimple transforming his face. “Yeah? Brilliant.” He took one of Brian’s progeny and clutched the jar to his chest. “Can I keep one, though? I could use a pet.”
She smiled. He was just so cute sometimes. “Of course. Can we finish up with the video now? I’m beat.”
They watched the video one more time together before submitting it. Reena carefully avoided looking at Nadim’s reaction while watching. She didn’t want to know if seeing their on-screen chemistry gave him goosebumps like it did for her. She was nervous about all of this. True, this wasn’t the first cooking video they’d put out in the world. But she’d been too drunk and had no memory of submitting that last one, so it was hard to compare. This video was different. They openly said they were engaged in it. And this would be seen by the public.
She knew the chances of her parents paying the slightest attention to the FoodTV website were slim to none, but what if someone else saw it and told them? What if Saira saw it?
Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal if her family found out—she could admit they were only pretending. It would be a bigger disaster if they found out about Reena’s job. But it was just easier when her parents didn’t know about her life.
Nadim high-fived her once the video was sent. “We totally got this. Don’t forget me when you’re a rich and famous food personality and I’m just the project manager you exploited to get your way.”
She laughed. “I don’t want to be rich or famous. I just want to take that course.”
Nadim tilted his head and smiled warmly. Which prompted Reena to grab Brian, say goodbye, and get the hell out of there. Because that look on his face just made it even harder for her to figure out exactly how he felt about her.
***
Reena’s phone rang early Monday morning. Well, not reallythatearly. She’d finally learned to enjoy some of the perks of unemployment. But despite knowing the rest of the world was awake and bringing home the bacon (or for her fellow Muslims, chicken bacon), confusion still washed over her when she heard that shrill ringtone before nine a.m. Who would call her at this hour?
She grabbed the phone and checked the call display. Crap. Saira.
“Hey, sis, what’s up?” Reena asked, schooling her voice to sound as if she’d been awake and getting ready for work.
“Reena, I’m coming over.”
Jesus. Why was her sister dropping by so much all of a sudden? “But, Saira—”
“Look, Reena. I figured out you’re not working, so no need to make up a story.”
