Page 19 of To Tango, with Desire

FIVE

AMIRA

“Just go and they won’t kick up a fuss.”

I glared at my sister over the phone. I had a ridiculous assortment of outfits scattered on my bed and was in more of a bad mood than I cared to admit.

To say that my parents had been pissed that I’d not been home to meet Antiquated Dentist Dude was an understatement. It’d been two weeks since that night and my mother was only just speaking to me again. She was determined to hold a grudge, arguing with me over every little thing, then blaming my dad for his inability to find me a good husband. My guilt was only made worse by the fact that Dad was having chest pains again.

Something Mom blamed me for.

At the moment, I wanted to be anywhere but living with my parents. I was suffocating in this house. The real estate agent still hadn’t come back with an answer, so of course that meant I’d missed out on leasing the gorgeous city shop front, which meant I’d have to sew dresses from the kitchen table and live with my parents forever.

Oh, and never have hot sex again.

What made matters worse was the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about Zane. About that kiss. I had no idea if he was dating Kiki, or how serious their relationship was, but I had no intention of being his side piece.

“You can’t spring this on me, Sahar. Not after all the shit I’ve had to put up with the past few weeks. That’s not fair.”

“Hey, I’m doing you a favor. Mom and dad are royally pissed that you weren’t home to meet their bachelor—”

“You gave me the tip-off!”

Sahar shook her head, dismissing the pertinent point. “I’m helping you out of this sticky situation. Do you know how hard it is to get on the waiting list for this thing? It’s exclusive and for, like, really wealthy people.”

“So I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. Great.”

“It’s not just a Lebanese mixer. There’ll be other people there as well. I only got the contact from my boss’s wife when I mentioned your paltry luck with men, so this is legit.”

“I still can’t believe you told Mom and Dad about it before running it by me.”

Sahar leaned back on her sofa, rubbing her stomach. She looked tired, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she had some kind of food stain smeared on her left cheek. “You owe me. It was by luck I got you on this list, so what harm will it do to just go and meet new people?”

“But—”

Sahar brought the phone closer to her face. “If either of our parents blow up my phone with their voicemail whingings about your lack of a husband, I’m going to have this baby on a remote island somewhere just to spite them.”

Girl had cracked. I didn’t blame her.

“Amira, please just go. Tell all the marriage-minded men at this mixer that you’ve got malicious ovaries or don’t want kids—”

“I don’t.”

“That’s perfect then. Mom and Dad don’t have to know you’re sabotaging it, and this will buy you more time.”

I picked up my pillow, stifling a scream. I’d wanted to have a night off, maybe go for a walk while the evenings weren’t so cold. It was March, the weather was turning, and so was my good luck it seemed.

I had no interest in settling down. No interest in tending a home, or a husband for that matter. I was just establishing myself as a business. It would be madness to screw up that momentum with some man distracting me.

If, one day, I found the one—a guy I was head over heels in love with—then maybe, maybe I’d think about marriage. Not that a piece of paper meant anything. With divorces more common than long-term marriages, nothing was a guarantee. But I had standards, damn it.

“Show me the dresses again. Properly this time,” Sahar ordered.

I propped my phone on the stand and lifted the silks and satins.

“I think the red one is hot.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, silently applauding my sister’s good taste. “It’s one of my designs.”