She’d only known Rasheed for a few months, but she’d thought they were friends. Friendly, at least. She trusted him.
Rasheed:The answer is complicated.
Jana felt like she was going to throw up.
Jana:The answer is yes, then.
There was a long pause before Rasheed answered.
Rasheed:Yes, he’s married.
Jana threw her phone onto the desk and ran to the bathroom, where she did throw up. Then she cried…for a long, long time.
Anil had many excuses when she confronted him later that night in her hotel room. He said his marriage was complicated. That he and Nadia were effectively separated. That it was long past over. But all Jana could think of was her phone lighting up with the worst names possible when Nadia’s sister had messaged her.
Jana gritted her teeth. “Does herfamilyknow it’s over? Doesshe?”
When he didn’t answer, Jana asked Anil to leave. He tried to object again, begging Jana to let him explain, but Jana was done. She didn’t want to hear it.
He finally left. And she threw up again.
That was the end of the best relationship Jana had ever had. The one that should have been forever. How pathetic. It had all been an illusion. He wasmarried. And Jana was a fool. She’d stepped out of her comfort zone and taken a risk with the charming, charismatic, sexy man who’d looked at her like she was more than just perfect Jana Suleiman. Like she was a person who was worth getting closer to. And look what she’d gotten out of it.
Her eyes blurry with tears, Jana blocked Anil Malek from her phone. Thankfully, it had only been two weeks. They lived in different cities—countries, even—so it wouldn’t take much to never see him again. She could avoid him professionally. She could put this whole mess…thisaffair…behind her and pretend it never happened. She’d learned her lesson. Comfort zones were comfortable for a reason.
After two more weeks, Jana’s heart had mostly mended, but she was still throwing up regularly. When she saw two pink lines after peeing on a stick, she realized she wasn’t quite done with Anil Malek after all.
Chapter 2
Present day, Toronto, Canada
Do you think airport security will confiscate samosas?” Jana’s mother, Rashida Suleiman, called out the moment Jana walked into her mother’s townhouse. Jana was balancing two pizza boxes, her purse, and her planner in her arms.
Jana frowned as she dropped the pizza boxes on the table near the door. “I don’t know. I thought they only confiscated liquids. Samosas are solid.” She really hoped security wouldn’t take their samosas. Their already stressful holiday would be infinitely more frustrating for Jana if they didn’t have a stash of her mother’s samosas on hand.
“I’ll make the filling dryer to be safe,” Mom said from the kitchen.
Jana kicked off her job interview shoes and beige blazer, cringing when she noticed that the living/dining room had fallen into complete chaos while she’d been gone. The mess made her eye twitch, but what did she expect? Her daughter, Imani, and her mother were clearly still packing. They were all leaving tomorrow for a two-week vacation in Tanzania for a family friend’s wedding in which Jana was a bridesmaid and Imani the flower girl. Jana was a seasoned traveler, but she was usually alone or with colleagues for overseas flights, not with her mother and four-year-old daughter.
The scent of daal and maybe kheema in the air told Jana that Mom was making more than just samosas. She took the pizza boxes to the kitchen, where she found her mom stirring a tiny pot filled with ghee, curry leaves, chilies, and spices.
Jana shook her head. “Why are you making all this? I told you I was picking up pizza tonight.” Mom wasn’t capable of making a small amount of food. “Airport securitywillconfiscate daal. That’s a liquid.”
Mom poured the hot ghee and spices into the pot of daal. “This is all for the freezer. Won’t we be happy to have home-cooked food waiting for us when we get back? I made two dozen samosas. That should be enough for the trip, right?”
Mom’s cheddar-and-potato samosas, just one of her many Indian fusion recipes, were the only thing Imani would eat with no cajoling. “Hope so. Don’t really want to be lugging more than that from hotel to hotel.”
“How was the job interview?” Mom asked.
“It went well, I hope,” Jana said, taking a handful of peanuts from the jar on the counter, then popping one in her mouth. She’d just come from her second interview at Think Canada for her dream job—working with Think affiliates to plan development projects around the world. Jana really thought she had a good chance. The executive director, Dr. Lopez, was a brilliant, kind man who reminded Jana a bit of her father, and she’d love to work with him.
She wanted this role so much. She desperately needed a change professionally. But best of all? She’d be doing it all from Toronto. No more traveling. She could be right here, at home, when Imani started junior kindergarten in the fall.
Mom smiled. “I told you my prayers would be answered. So great that Rohan found that job for you.”
Jana’s good friend, and the groom at the upcoming wedding, had learned about this position long before the job was publicly posted, which gave Jana the time to polish her resume and gather references.
Jana rubbed the back of her neck. “I may have made a mistake. I slipped and mentioned I’m a single mother, and he made some comments about how he values family. With all the short-term contracts on my resume, he probably thinks I’m a terrible mom.”
