“That’s probably not a good idea,” Jana said. “It’s very sweet. Uncle, you said your blood sugar test was high this week. You should watch your carbohydrate intake.”
Kamila’s head shot to Dad. He had his test results already? And he’d toldJana, but not her? “Dad, when did you get your test results?”
He gave Kamila a reassuring pat on the arm. “Today, beti. I didn’t want to worry you before your party.”
But he was fine with worrying Jana?
There were too many people around to scold Dad now. Not to mention Jana still had that smug expression. But Kamila had every intention of giving her father a much-deserved piece of her mind later. In the meantime, though, she needed to wipe that look off Jana’s face.
“I’d love to learn more about the incubator,” Kamila said. “I could totally volunteer. Helping refugees is such a great cause.”
“Are you sure, Kam?” Rohan asked. “It’s not really your scene.”
Jana frowned. Was her expression smug?
“Of course I’m sure,” Kamila said. “I love fundraising! And I’m good at it.”
Rohan still looked skeptical but nodded. “I suppose I can ask Anil if he has use for you.”
“I’m pretty sure they won’t be needing anyone to lead a ukulele sing-along,” Jana said.
How did Jana even know about her ukulele? Kamila hadn’t been in the mood for a sing-along tonight and hadn’t brought it out. Kamila didn’t care who saw her and gave Jana a death glare. But everyone was too busy chuckling at Jana’s comment to notice.
Dad didn’t laugh, at least, but he didn’t look convinced. Did no one have faith in Kamila?
“Volunteering is so important,” Kamila said. “It sounds like a worthy cause. And it would be great to be on this committee with Rohan. We always have a good time together, right?”
Jana finally lost that smug look on her ice queen face. It was wonderfully replaced with…irritation.
This idea was getting better and better. A worthy cause, indeed.
Chapter 6
Dad excused himself to bed even before the others left, so Kamila couldn’t talk to him about the test results he hadn’t told her about. And of course, Rohan spent the night in the guest room. He always slept over on Fridays, and Kamila usually didn’t mind the slightest bit. But when she woke early Saturday morning, she was decidedly less than thrilled that she’d see him at breakfast. She dreaded the thought of talking to Dad about this in front of someone who thought all she cared about was fun, glamour, and fluffy dogs.
It was raining heavily outside her bedroom window, which, frankly, matched her mood a little too well. She checked her Instagram, but her head started pounding after responding to only a few comments. Tossing her phone on her bed made Darcy stir as the dog noticed her human was awake. She jumped onto Kamila’s chest and started licking her face. So much for sleeping in.
“I know, I know. You want outside.” She picked up Darcy and scratched below her ears.
Coffee. Kamila desperately needed coffee. She could let Darcy out in the yard for a few minutes, then grab a mug, and take it back to bed to maybe get a little more sleep. Dad wouldn’t be up yet anyway. Not bothering to change or even take her sleep bonnet off her head, she made her way straight to the back door and let Darcy out.
“Good, you’re up,” Rohan said from the kitchen.
“Not really. Need caffeine.” She passed him on the way to the cabinet to get a mug. He’d at least made a pot.
“Nice hat. You look like the sultan fromAladdin.”
She pulled the purple satin cap off her head, releasing hair probably frizzy from sleep.
He raised a brow, looking at her face. “Rough night?”
She ignored him as she poured her coffee. Ithadbeen a rough night. She’d taken so long to fall asleep after that terrible bout of self-loathing triggered by Jana and, partially, by this man, too. She considered skipping her usual Saturday morning of doting over the men by making sure they were fed and happy. She could talk to Dad after Rohan left. But…her stomach gurgled. Something smelled good. Rohan was cooking? A cutting board was drying in the dish rack, and a container of feta cheese sat on the counter. She turned to the stove.
Rohan was cracking eggs into a bubbling red sauce. She watched him awhile, the scent of the coffee in her hand soothing her sour mood. Or maybe it was the smell of the rich, spiced tomato sauce. Was this a peace offering? Did he know her self-esteem had been fed through a wood chipper last night?
“What are you making?”
“Shakshuka,” Rohan said.
