My cousin had been in Canada for over a week, and he had been the perfect guest. I, on the other hand, had not been the perfect host. I had tried to pump him for information about Kawkab Khala and then ignored him the rest of the time. Yet he hadn’t complained once, had even come to the BOA meeting and stood up for me, though we barely knew each other. The least I could do was stay and watch him eat ice cream.
Aydin returned with two cups, Black Raspberry Thunder for Zulfa and Mint Chip. He handed the Mint Chip to me and took a seat beside his fiancée. Rashid was still at the counter, holding three different sample spoons and pointing at yet another flavour.
“Aydin has been working at his restaurant non-stop,” Zulfa said, leaning towards me conspiratorially. “I’ve barely seen him all week. You’re coming to the opening, right? We’ve been running ads on social media, giving away coupons, and distributing flyers. Please say you’ll be there. Bring Rashid too. Your cousin is fun.”
“Hana’s not going to be there, Zulfa,” he said. “Just drop it.”
Zulfa’s brown eyes were puzzled. “I’m sorry to hear that. Aydin toldme how much he enjoyed your mom’s food. I thought she might want to attend as well.”
I looked over at Aydin, then back at the ice cream he had handed me, and took a cautious bite. It was pepperminty and cold, the chocolate chips crunchy and sweet. I felt his eyes on me as I took another taste. “Thanks for the ice cream,” I said.
“It’s not a peace offering.” He looked grumpy. “Mint Chip is my go-to when I’m upset. If you don’t like it, I can get you another flavour.”
“I’m not upset,” I said. Then, more quietly, “This is fine. It’s one of my favourites too.”
“I don’t know how you can eat that,” Zulfa said to Aydin. “It tastes like toothpaste.”
Aydin’s stony expression softened. “We can’t get married if you don’t like Mint Chip. Irreconcilable differences.”
Zulfa laughed again, and I swallowed thickly. Married. These two were engaged to be married, and Aydin wanted to put my mother out of business. I stood up. “I should go.”
Aydin stood too. Still seated, Zulfa gave me a tiny wave. “Please try to make it to the opening. I’m lonely in a strange land too, and could use the company.” She winked at Rashid, who was looking over at us from the ice cream counter. From the heart emojis in his eyes, I could tell my cousin was a goner.
I hurried to the door, but Aydin easily kept pace. “You don’t have to run away. We would have left you alone if you wanted,” Aydin said.
“Does your offer extend to the neighbourhood too? Will you leave if I ask nicely?” I asked sweetly.
Aydin’s brows drew together at my words. “I told you I’m not leaving Golden Crescent,” he said. “You might as well stay and fight, if you think Three Sisters has a chance to survive. Though I’m positiveyour restaurant hasn’t turned a profit in months. Ask your mom how much debt she’s had to take on.”
Stung by his harsh words, I leaned close, not wanting to make another scene. “There are other ways for a restaurant to fail,” I hissed. “Nobody thought David would win against Goliath, and look how that turned out.”
“Are you threatening me?” Aydin took one step closer, eyes hard on my face. His gaze dipped lower, to my lips, before looking away.
“Yes,” I said, heart pounding.
“You don’t want me as your enemy,” Aydin said.
“Well, we can’t be friends, so where does that leave us?” I asked.
Aydin swallowed. The ice cream shop had grown quiet around us, as if we were inside an intimate bubble. I flashed back to the first time we had met, the way his father’s words had affected him, and I felt sorry for him all over again, and then guilty about what I had done to sabotage his store. Without thinking, I handed him my ice cream. He took a large bite, face relaxing as he swallowed. Our eyes met once more, and the ice cream shop resumed breathing. Or maybe that was just me.
He had a smear of Mint Chip at the corner of his mouth. His chin was prickly with stubble, smoother near his lips. The urge to run my fingers along his jaw, to feel that scratchy-smooth skin, was suddenly overpowering. I had to leave.
“Hana,” he said, voice low, eyes completely black.
Shit.“There’s something on your face,” I said, and stumbled out of the store.
I HAD IMAGINED IT. AYDINwas my sworn nemesis. That jolt of electricity between us was nothing more than old-fashioned burning hatred. Easy to mistake for that other emotion I definitely wasn’t feeling.
“Hana Apa, wait!” Rashid jogged up to me. He held an enormous sundae in his hands, at least five different flavours loaded into an oversized bowl, the entire concoction covered with sprinkles, nuts, chocolate chunks, and caramel syrup, topped by a single cherry. It looked like something a sugar-deranged five-year-old might order.
“I was talking to Brother Musa about the summer street festival,” he said, taking a giant bite of his sundae. “I told him that you and I would volunteer to organize this year. It might help business at Three Sisters. I told Aydin about the festival as well,” he added as an after-thought.
What?“Why would you do that without asking me?”
Rashid said innocently, “It is a street festival for Golden Crescent. His restaurant is part of the neighbourhood. And he said Zulfa would be there.” My cousin got a dreamy look on his face. “She looks just like Sridevi,” he said, referring to the late Bollywood superstar. “I don’t think Aydin and Zulfa have been engaged for very long. They barely look at each other. Do you think I might have a chance?”
I rolled my eyes and we walked home in silence. Now I had the street festival to contend with along with everything else. Aydin would want to be included in any planning. My stomach churned at the thought of talking to him again after that strange moment between us at IScreams—and my recent attempt at sabotage.
