“What’s a suitable match? Someone in your tax bracket?”
“No. Someone in theirs.”
“Okay maybe giving in to your parents’ matchmaking isn’t the best idea, but I do think it’s time you got back on the dating horse. In fact, that’s why I called. Duncan and I have decided to have a housewarming party two Saturdays from now. It will be full of sexy male musicians.”
Reena groaned. Not her best friend, too? Why the hell did everyone insist on throwing men her way lately? Amira knew Reena was on a dating break.
Reena’s twelve ex-boyfriends and countless hookups and casual dates were not a source of shame for her. But her sister’s engagement implosion had felt like a wake-up call.
In the last three months, Reena had been there to watch several friends fall stupidly in love with men who were so perfect for them that bluebirds practically followed the happy couples wherever they went. One friend was even proposed to by his boyfriend in a tearful serenade in front of an audience of hundreds. Reena wanted that. All of that. Not necessarily the huge, singing spectacle or to be followed by woodland creatures, but she wanted thecertaintythat their feelings werereal. Andrealfeelings could not start with meddling parents, or friends, for that matter.
Unwanted man-buffet aside, a weekend with her best friend did sound lovely. “Can I come early?”
“Yeah, come Friday. You can help cook.”
Reena finished the call with a smile. She loved having something to look forward to, and a weekend in the country sounded perfect. The fact that she could use it as a reason to skip Sunday brunch also helped. She’d play her deflect-and-distract game with any matchmaking attempts, and just engage in a bit of light flirting and admiring of Duncan’s friends. Because although she knew her Amira meant well, Reena felt positive she was not ready to ride any horses anytime soon.
***
Reena’s heavy limbs and pounding head slowed her as she walked up to her building Monday evening. It had been yet another brutal day at the office. All day, just numbers. Reports. Spreadsheets. Sales data. Numbers, Numbers, Numbers.
Letting herself into the building, she noticed her friend Shayne on the stairs heading to the second floor. A Black man with the most enviable sense of style of all Reena’s friends, he was wearing a stunning purple brocade vest with ripped jeans and a T-shirt today. An outfit only Shayne could pull off.
“Reena! Haven’t seen you in a bit.” He stepped back down and hugged her. “Come catch up at Marley’s. I picked up this amazing barrel-aged saison beer and triple crème Brie. We’re celebrating.” Marley, aka Mahreen, was Reena’s cousin, and Shayne was Marley’s best friend. Marley lived in one of the top-floor units, and Shayne officially lived in a nearby basement apartment with roommates, but he preferred Marley’s couch most nights.
Reena smiled. “What are we celebrating?”
He raised one manicured eyebrow. “That Monday is over? I don’t even know. Today felt like a day and a half, and I need a drink. Plus, it’s always a good time for cheese.”
Good point. “Let me change and I’ll come up. I have some bread and plums I can contribute.”
Ten minutes later, Reena was curled up on Marley’s oversize white couch with a glass of craft beer in one hand and a slice of her own sourdough topped with Brie, thinly sliced golden plums, and a light drizzle of honey in the other. Heaven. Like Shayne, she needed this drink.
“Reena, who is the new haircut on your floor?” Marley asked from her perch on a massive round armchair.
“Nadim. He’s working for my dad.”
Marley sipped her beer. Reena had spent most of her life intimidated by the beautiful cousin with the Victoria Beckham smile. Tall, with large brown eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, and thick, long, straight brown hair, she looked polar opposite to Reena’s short-and-cute vibe. Marley worked in the fashion industry, selling high-end designer clothes to desperate city-wives, and she’d mastered aspirational flawlessness. But Reena had learned that beneath Marley’s cool perfection lay a sweet shyness with people she didn’t know too well.
Shayne also worked in the fashion industry—as a part-time menswear sales associate, while he built up his portfolio as a fashion photographer. He had been a huge help to Reena with her blog and taught her how to capture and edit the pictures that took it to the next level.
“Shayne’s been stalking the guy since he first heard him speak. He has a thing for accents,” Marley said, narrowing her eyes at Shayne.
Shayne nodded. “He’s quite striking. Very intense eyes. And that voice…I wonder if he’d let me take his picture. Do you know if he’s into men?”
Reena curled her legs under her. “Shayne, did you invite me up here to get me to dish up on the new neighbor?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “But I brought beer and cheese, so I know you’re fine with it.”
Reena laughed. Her friends knew her well. She took another slice of bread and topped it with the cheese and plums. “I don’t know if Nadim is into men. I hope he’s notonlyinto men. It would be a bit of an issue, since he’s supposed to marry me.”
“What?” Marley said, laughing.
“Yep. My father and his father are hoping we’ll marry and combine the families and business interests. I’m assuming my hand in marriage was a bargaining chip in their deal.”
“Jesus, Reena!” Shayne said, his expressive eyebrows reaching unparalleled heights. “An arranged marriage!”
“No,” Reena said. “Afacilitatedmarriage. They won’t force me to marry him, but they will lean on me heavily. Mum may have already bought a mother-of-the-bride sari.”
