Page 12 of To Tango, with Desire

“Fresh off the boat, too.”

“Probably sniffing for a visa.”

“Get this—the dude is major old school. Virgin bride. No working outside the home. Babies as soon as you’re married. The whole shebang.”

“God, how ancient is he?”

“Late thirties.”

“That’s not awful, I suppose. I’d overlook his age if his views on women weren’t so repulsive. Where do they even find these losers?”

“Your single status is making them desperate.” Sahar scratched at what looked like a food stain on her skirt. “Honestly, though, I think Dad worries about you not having anyone. Especially as they’re getting older. He isn’t just putting off the surgery because of the money stuff. He’s afraid. He wants to see you settled in case anything happens to him.”

I looked across at my dad, who was now playing trucks with his grandson. I tried to brush aside the guilt, but it sat heavy on my shoulders. I hated seeing him worry, but also hated being pressured.

Leo yanked at my bracelet, trying to put it in his mouth.

“Why can’t they just mind their own business?” I tugged the gold out of his strong grip before bouncing him again.

“Because they have it in their heads that you being out and about until all hours means you’re up to no good.”

So what if I was? I was an adult, and that meant I was responsible for my own choices. Lord, I needed to move out. Like yesterday.

“So what time is this disaster date going down?”

“Dunno, but if I were you, I’d not be here at all this weekend.”

“What you whispering?” Nasrin threw us a piercing look. She clucked her tongue at our silence. “Amira, give me your coffee. I read your future.”

I handed Leo back to my sister, then peered at the bottom of my cup. I was mildly suspicious of the coffee reading process. What could this possibly tell me that I didn’t already know? I frowned at the dark, muddy grains that looked like a demented wolf. Maybe my future involved a hairy wolf-man? Ooh, maybe a hot, muscled Wolverine type who would rip off my clothes at the first sign of a full moon.

“Amira!”

I looked up at my mother’s impatient face.

Hmm. Maybe not.

“Sit.” Mom motioned to the wide arm of her chair when I approached.

Doing so with a sigh, I watched her flip the cup over so that it sat on the saucer.

“Ready?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”

She turned it right side up. It took only seconds before she gasped.

“What? What is it?” I leaned over my mother’s arm, scared and a little thrilled that the wolf-man prophecy would come true.

“Hasan, come give your wife a kiss.”

Robbie did instead, making her laugh.

“What is it, Grandma?” The four-year-old looked at the cup she was holding, his dark eyes wide and innocent.

“Amira is getting married. This year!” She beamed, kissing her grandson on the head.

“Here we go,” I muttered.