“This is Amira,” Ali said quickly. “My fiancée,” he added, stamping the air with the firm words. “The girl I can’t wait to marry.”
“Oh! My bad.” Hamooda looked both mortified and surprised. “You’re engaged?” He looked to the others, who pretended not to notice the car crash happening in front of them. “Is this common knowledge? Am I the last to know?”
“Both,” said the cousin named Shireen, a willowy girl with straightened long black hair. “If you’d ever return Mama’s phone calls, you might learn something.” She turned to me. “Amira, in order to survive this family, you have to ignore half of what these idiots say.”
I forced a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
But in my head, all I could think of was Hamooda mistaking me for Lizzie. I’d put her out of my mind after we got engaged, but for her name to pop up in this setting thrust her firmly back to center stage.
I’ve heard a lot about you.
What had he heard? Did all the cousins know Lizzie? Did they all think she was great? My insecurities about whether Ali had lingering feelings for his ex-girlfriend blazed back. Was I competing with her for his affection? And for that of his entire cousin group?
“Do you want something to drink?” Ali asked, his voice low and intense in my ear. I registered the tense lines around his mouth.
I ignored him. Instead, I plastered a teasing smile on my face, as if I were too confident to care about my fiancé’s ex. “You’ve heard a lot about Lizzie?” I said too loudly, trying to be funny. “I haven’t. Tell me everything.”
For a brief moment, an uncomfortable silence hung over us.
“She was whatever.” Shireen broke the silence. “Obviously a nobody. You’re the soon-to-be wife. You’re the winner.”
“Does that make Ali the prize?” Hamooda said teasingly. “Poor girl.”
I was tongue-tied, so unnerved by hearing Lizzie’s name that I couldn’t think of a clever way to engage in the banter.
The aloof cousin, the handsome one, subtly came to my rescue. “OK, everyone,” Nasser said. “The game is about to start. Look at the menu, and let’s order.”
“I need some wings,” one of the cousins said.
Shireen reached for a menu. “Should we order a bunch of appetizers for the group?”
“I’m going to get a burger,” Hamooda said. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
I exhaled, relieved the focus was no longer on me. My initial plan coming into the evening was to win over the cousins by being interesting and engaging. So much for that.
Once we were all eating and watching the game—I pretended to follow the action on the TV screen—Ali, who’d kept close tabs onme all evening, leaned in. He spoke into my ear so I could hear him above the din.
“Are you OK?”
“How well do they know Lizzie?”
“Not well. You heard Hamooda. He never met her.”
“Hownot well?”
He released a breath. “She came out with us two or three times. Maybe more. Nasser was my roommate. He knew her the best.”
Knew her the best. Liked her the best?
Ali placed his hand over mine and squeezed. “Forget about Lizzie. I promise you. She’s ancient history.”
Chapter Thirteen
Now
Nasser seemed pensive, but Lulu showed zero surprise when I filled them in on my conversation with Fred Perkins.
“Why are you sitting there acting like it’s no big deal?” I asked my sister, even though I knew why.
