Page 24

Even before Lucky’s save, she had been aware of a growing sense of . . . something between them. From bickering at the party rental place, to working together to set up Hania’s wedding decor, and their conversation afterward, every interaction between them had felt comfortable. Like no time at all had passed since their law school days. Not to mention the jolt of electricity she had experienced when Lucky had reached for her hand during their dance performance last night. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the feel of his warm hand, his strong fingers firmly clasped around her own. Not that it had meant anything, of course. He was a former friend, a kind man who couldn’t bear to see someone suffering without stepping in. Unlike her ex-husband, who had orchestrated the entire episode for his own amusement.

She paused, thinking. Had that been Arshad’s plan all along? Set up a moment of embarrassment for Dina and then enjoy her downfall? It seemed so . . . unnecessary. Arshad, for all his many, many, many faults, was no dummy. She hadn’t known him to enact petty revenge plots for no reason. How did he benefit from her public humiliation?

She recalled the tail end of the phone call she had overheard last night. Arshad had been talking to someone in the hallway of the restaurant, and he had been quick to hang up on the other person when he spotted her, but she had overheard his parting plea: “Just one more week.” Was he talking to Ana, or whoever his latest girlfriend happened to be? Perhaps he was speaking to his cosmetic surgeon or making an appointment to have that stick removed from his nether regions. Or maybe Arshad was up to something. But what?

Seeking distraction from the headache that was her ex-husband, she glanced around. Her parents had moved into a large home on the shore of Lake Ontario nearly a decade ago, an easy commute to the city core, with spectacular—and very expensive—views. The home was three stories tall with a walk-out basement and contained two gourmet kitchens, six bedrooms, and ten bathrooms. It had gleaming marble floors and was stuffed with uncomfortably formal furniture and more crystal chandeliers than anyone could possibly have any use for; Dina much preferred her modest two-bedroom bungalow, though before their marriage imploded, Arshad had been pressuring her to buy a home “more worthy of their accomplishments.”

Hania had set up in the sunken family room, which contained the sort of large, overstuffed furniture her mother favored, and which was the size of Dina’s entire main floor. Beside her, the A girls had commandeered the sectionals, leaving the chair located at the periphery for Dina.

Samir’s mother Rabia had also joined them today and sat on a sofa beside Hania and Dina’s mother. Samir’s mother was a large, big-boned woman who seemed bemused by her future daughter-in-law. She was very pale, her hair cut short in a neat bob and dyed an unbelievable shade of black, but other than this one nod to vanity, she seemed indifferent to her physical appearance and wore no makeup or jewelry save for a simple diamond solitaire and wedding band. Dina liked her immediately. Next to Rabia Aunty sat a pretty young woman Dina didn’t recognize, dressed in a simple white embroidered tunic paired with tapered jeans, her hair straightened into a curtain that fell down her back. She smiled at Dina, showing off even white teeth. Rabia performed the introductions.

“Dina, this is my niece, Aliyah, my brother’s daughter. She just flew in from California this morning for the wedding.” The women smiled and shook hands, but before Dina could chat further, Ambreen asked the gathered party to give Hania their full attention.

Her sister had planned the event as an elaborate unboxing video, showcasing the new clothes she had collected for the many parties and social gatherings she would be invited to in the months following her wedding. While everyone praised the collection of new shalwar suits, paired with jewelry and accessories, and admired the matching hijabs, shoes, and purses, Dina caught a few discreet eye rolls from the A girls. Even her mother yawned a few times as the afternoon stretched on.

Finally, two hours after the unboxing began, her mother had had enough. Nasrin motioned for Melly, her household help, to set up lunch on the kitchen island closest to the family room. Dina stood up gratefully and was first in line; she hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning, and she was thankful her mother considered it a point of pride to make sure her guests were well fed. Today Nasrin had decided on desi-inspired high tea treats: curry puffs, crispy pastry filled with meat and spiced vegetables; samosa chaat, the pastry topped with yogurt and mint-and-tamarind chutney; dainty finger sandwiches filled with spicy achari chicken or palak paneer, a savory spinach curry mixed with cheese; plus shot glasses filled with sweet milky lassi and falooda, a rose-flavored drink topped with dainty dollops of vanilla bean ice cream.

Dina piled her plate high before finding a seat at the large formal dining table, where Rabia Aunty, Aliyah, and a few of the A girls soon joined her.

“Loved your dance yesterday, Dina Apa,” Rania, one of the A girls, called across the table. Dina wasn’t sure how she felt about the honorific—Apa meant “big sister” in Urdu, and she was sure Rania was only a few months younger than her. “That whole skit with Lucky was so funny. How clever of you to bring that sweet little girl into your routine. She really helped take the attention off your . . . nontraditional dance moves.” The A girls around Rania tittered in amusement. The comment was meant to sting, of course, but she refused to rise to the bait. She wished Lisa had been invited today.

“Thanks. The dance you all did was really impressive. Very professional,” she said politely.

Beside her, Aliyah broke in. “I have to admit I much prefer the more authentic dances that are freestyle to the overly polished ones that require hundreds of hours of practice. They always feel a little try-hard,” she said, smiling blandly across the table at Rania. Dina hid her smile behind her falooda. She liked Aliyah and resolved to introduce her to Lisa.

“So what’s the deal with this Lucky guy?” Jameela, one of the nicer A girls, asked. “He’s the best-looking guy on the groom’s side. What do we think, girls? I hope he’s single, though I heard he’s a contractor or something.”

“I wouldn’t mind having him hanging around my house, operating heavy machinery,” Nayla joked, and Dina glanced at Rabia Aunty, whose plate was mostly filled with a sensible salad. She caught Dina’s eye and smiled briefly.

“Lucky is a very kind and hardworking young man. And yes, he is a contractor. He has worked with our family now for many years, and my husband sings his praises routinely. Not an easily accomplished feat, believe me,” Rabia Aunty said. “He has been a good friend to Samir and takes good care of his family as well.”

“Sign me up,” Jameela said, and the other A girls laughed.

Dina felt her face grow hot. She didn’t like the way they were talking about Lucky, as if he were an item on a menu they all wanted to order.

“You went to school with him, right, Dina?” Rania asked, clearly trying to get back into the conversation after Aliyah’s not-so-subtle put-down.

“Arshad, Lucky, and I were in law school together, years ago,” Dina said. “We lost touch after Lucky moved to Chicago. I had no idea he knew Samir. I was shocked to see him at the airport.”

“Wait, so Lucky is a lawyer?” Jameela asked. All the A girls were taking an avid interest in this conversation. Dina could well imagine how amused Lucky would be if he knew what a stir his backstory had caused among the wedding party. Not that she had any intention of letting him know.

“Luqman is not a practicing lawyer,” Rabia Aunty interrupted. “He runs his own contracting business and also works for Crescent Construction. He is one of the best project managers my husband and I have ever employed. He will make someone a wonderful partner one day.”

The A girls absorbed this news and seemed to come to the same conclusion. “So you’re saying Lucky is single,” Rania asked.

“Not for much longer, I don’t think,” Rabia Aunty said with a small smile. “Weddings are the perfect place to meet someone special. Wouldn’t you agree, Aliyah?”

Aliyah smiled down at her plate, and an ugly emotion slithered into Dina’s stomach, making her appetite vanish. Did Aliyah have a thing for Lucky? Clearly Rabia wanted to introduce her niece to him, which spoke highly of Lucky’s eligibility. She picked at a curry puff morosely, willing her sudden malaise to pass. It was no surprise everyone had taken an interest in Lucky. He was a catch by any measure. It was a miracle he had remained single all these years. She had no right to these feelings—for all everyone at this table, or in the wedding party, knew, she was a married woman.

A notification pinged on her phone, reminding her of her second commitment today: She had promised to meet Arshad at Deepak’s home. Lucky would be there too. Which was fine.

“I have to go,” she explained to the group, just as Hania joined the party. Her sister pouted.

“But I need you here. We were going to do a little fashion show. Ambreen thinks it will be great for our numbers,” Hania said.

“Arshad is expecting me,” she said, giving her mother a kiss on her cheek and hugging Hania. “You’re going to be the prettiest bride in the city,” she whispered into her sister’s ear, which seemed to mollify her.

“Make sure you’re at the hall early tomorrow. The Vogue Arabia photographer wants to get started first thing, well before the nikah,” Hania said.