Read an Excerpt
Chapter 1
PRESENT DAY
June
Summer has finally arrived and I should be happy, sitting here at a lacquered black table with my handsome date. A candle flickers between us, the lighting in this glitzy Italian restaurant clearly intended to create a romantic atmosphere, but I’m pinched and tired after finishing a major merger this week. All I want to do is flick my pointed heels off my aching feet and nestle into a fluffy blanket on the couch with a book and a cup of chai.
Now, though, I need to focus on the clinking of silverware and polite, flirtatious laughter. It’s unfamiliar. I haven’t been on a date in months. But it’s time for me to get back out there and meet someone who will have me gowned in satin white so my mother can throw the wedding she’s been nagging me for ever since I finished law school.
And for once, I’m out with a guy who has potential.
“You did a killer job on the Toasties and Salad King merger.” Hassan gazes at me, an appreciative glint in his eye. The slate grey of his suit makes his mahogany skin seem even warmer, a smile softening his usually stern face. Almost no one would get how hard this job is, how much work I put into it, but he does.
“I still can’t believe I closed it,” I answer, focusing on all there is to celebrate. Closing another deal, being asked out by the second-best senior associate at Gold & Wright.
Ever since Hassan took a job at the firm a year and a half ago, he’s been following me around like a wheaten terrier. At first, I thought he was trying to throw me off my game, since in corporate law you don’t really have friends. You have colleagues you are friendly with, who would happily stab you in the back for a promotion. So when he first started circling me, I’d backed away. We were neck and neck in our billing hours and both had our sights set on junior partner, after all.
But then I started to see the similarities between us. Both of us have been busting our asses to make our immigrant parents proud. He’s the kind of guy I can respect—and pretty attractive too.
So I finally said yes when he asked me to grab a coffee for the tenth time, and again to grab a bite after we worked on a case together. And now here we are on our first official date in one of the most exclusive restaurants in town. This man really knows how to wine and dine. Maybe I should have given in earlier.
Hassan winks at me. “I probably could have closed it faster.” His smirk gives away that he’s teasing, and I kick him jokingly under the table.
His grin broadens.
We’ve just finished our main courses, which lived up to the social media hype. A rare steak for him, spinach ravioli for me. Usually, I’d kill for a piece of chocolate cake to end my meal, but I’m not sure my form-fitting navy dress can take the added pressure.
Hassan’s hand catches mine. “You’re a brilliant lawyer.”
“I know.” My mother would love him. She’s been telling me for years that I need to get my head out of my ass and onto the dating market. My task is to bring home an accomplished man from the same cultural background so she can see her grandchildren before she dies.
Satisfaction wells in my chest as I picture him and my mother meeting for the first time.
Now I focus on the heat of his broad fingers against my slimmer ones, coaxing the respect and camaraderie I feel into a flame. His mouth twists into a smile that’s somehow both fond and mischievous.
“Hey,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I’m so glad you said yes to tonight.”
“Me too,” I whisper. “But will this make things weird at work?”
“Of course not.” His smile is guileless. “Take a chance on me, Lia.”
It’s so easy to say but hard to do. Last time I took a gamble on dating was with a cardiologist that my mother set me up with through mosque. Our first date was an unpleasant surprise. Dinner with his entire extended family. After that evening, I never called the guy back, and instead invested in a new electronic version of a boyfriend that never disappoints.
But I can’t exactly walk a vibrator down the aisle and Hassan is leagues ahead of almost every other guy I’ve dated. He’s looking at me with warmth in his eyes, tilting closer as if he’s going to kiss me. I take a breath and make a choice, leaning in and letting the scent of his oud cologne reassure me.
Right before our lips touch, my phone rings. A steady chime, the ringtone I’ve assigned to work, a contrast to the shrill alarm that I’ve designated to my mother’s messages. Hassan leans back, giving me a look, but unlike most guys I’ve been out with, he’s curious, not annoyed.
I pull it out to check. It’s Eleanor, the only female partner at the firm, despite all the diversity, equity and inclusion measures we’re supposedly implementing. Eleanor hasn’t really taken an interest in me, but maybe that’s changed since my performance in my latest merger made waves in our firm.
The phone chimes again.
“I should take this,” I say, pulling away from the table, giving Hassan an apologetic smile that he doesn’t see. He’s already pulled out his own phone.
I clip across the room, almost bulldozing through a server carrying a tray laden with ravioli and thin-crust pizza. “Sorry,” I mouth as I get to the lobby and accept the call right before it goes to voicemail. I don’t want to anger Eleanor; I’ll need her in my corner if I ever want to make partner.
“Lia,” Eleanor says in her business-like tone. “Sorry to call this late. I hope I didn’t disturb you.” She doesn’t sound sorry.
“Not a problem. How can I help you?” I twirl a lock of my carefully straightened hair. Partners ring whenever they damn please, but this is the first time Eleanor’s called me. Maybe she has last-minute briefs that need to be reviewed and the junior associates are screening her calls.
“I wanted to give you a heads-up that we’re going to be expanding the Chirper-Brittle team. Are you interested?”
Suddenly fire blazes in my chest. There’s a lot of buzz on social media around conglomerate Chirper taking over Brittle, the up-and-coming West Coast microblogging site. It’s the most coveted file the firm is handling this year, and Eleanor is retained by Chirper. It’s a dream come true. I can barely form words.
Eleanor misreads my silence. “We need support in drafting and reviewing the agreements. Your recent work has been impressive, and I think this would be a good way to show your dedication to senior management. Are you interested? If you’re not, I can certainly find someone else . . .”
“I’d love to, but—” I stop myself as the words bust out. HR has been on my tail about taking my mandatory PTO and I finally booked time off starting the week after next.
It’s like Eleanor can read my mind. She’s that much of a shark. “I took the liberty of peeking at your calendar. You can work during your vacation remotely. I won’t tell HR if you don’t. I wouldn’t want you to lose the opportunity to be on such a big case.”
“That’s true,” I say, buying in. It’s relaxing to do work at home in your joggers, right?
“Even if you’re remote, I’d need utmost dedication,” Eleanor says. “The workload will be heavy. There’s a large volume of documentation that we have to review for due diligence, and we’re on a tight timeline. The board wants to close in two weeks. If you can’t fully commit, then I’ll need to work with someone who can. I will say, however, that if you perform well on this project, I’d advocate for you next time there’s an opening for junior partner.”
I blink. Becoming a partner at a prestigious Toronto law firm is the dream. It’s worth sacrificing time off for the opportunity.
“Then I’d love to be on the team,” I say, crossing my fingers. It’s finally happening. My dad always told me to be the best at what I do. One of the few things that weighs on me is that my father won’t get to see me rise to the top.
“Great.” She hangs up without a goodbye, and I slide my phone back into my clutch. My hips sway as I walk back into the restaurant and I can’t suppress the smile on my face. Hassan’s head is bent over his phone as he furiously types. My phone buzzes again. A text from my older sister, Meleka.
Mel: Hey, are you free to chat?
I swipe the message away and tuck my phone back into my clutch.
“Good news?” Hassan asks, hitting send and putting his phone down.
“Eleanor might need an additional associate on one of her new acquisitions,” I say, forcing myself to keep my voice light as I slide into my seat. I can’t exactly squeal and jump in the middle of the restaurant, even though I feel like a hot-air balloon about to float away. “Would have been nicer to get the news during the workday, though.”
“Congratulations,” Hassan says. “That’s a call worth answering after hours.” His teasing smile makes my cheeks warm.
“For sure.” I take a swig from my glass. “I’ll have to work during my time off but . . . a multi-million-dollar technology company acquisition might be worth it.”
Hassan cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“The perfect addition to my portfolio.” I laugh. “But we’re not at work, so let’s focus on something more fun. Like us.”
He clears his throat and sits back in his chair. “You’re right.”
This call has given me renewed energy, and suddenly the world is a little brighter. My mind races; maybe I’ll do some reading on Chirper and Brittle this weekend, get my bearings for Monday.
Hassan smiles at me. I force myself back into the room with him, even though half of me is far away, dreaming of how amazing it will feel to get promoted and have everything I’ve worked so hard for be recognized. A great match and a promotion. This year is looking up.
He looks behind me, gesturing his head meaningfully. A server with a black tie places a delicate apple tart in front of us. It’s a sweet gesture, even if I would have preferred the chocolate cake I spotted on the menu.
“I thought we deserved a treat after working so hard this week.” His breath catches, belying his satisfied smirk. He wants this to be something.
And I do too. “You’re so thoughtful.” I lean forward at the same time he does. Our lips meet, a firm, gentle pressure, and I find myself pressing closer for more. When we pull back, his deep brown eyes glimmer with tenderness.
But part of me is disconnected from the moment, like my body is on autopilot and I’m somewhere in the ether, still searching for something I lost.
My kiss leaves behind a smudge of red lipstick on his lips, and I laugh, wiping it away. A little thrill of excitement runs through me as my thumb presses against his mouth.
“I’m having a fantastic time with you,” Hassan murmurs.
“Me too,” I say dreamily. Maybe this summer, things will finally come together and I’ll be able to fulfill the dreams my parents set out for me.
* * *
Saturday morning
Mel: Norah told me you took on another big project? What happened to taking it easy this summer?
Sunday afternoon
Mel: I’m assuming you forgot about me again? lol
Lia: Omg I’m so sorry. Yes! I’m on this new project at work . . . and lost track of time
Mel: Why are you working this weekend?
Mel: Wanna grab dinner?
Monday morning
Mel: Hey can we grab a coffee, actually? I need to talk to you, it’s important
Lia: Shoot, I missed this. Can we chat this weekend, I’m swamped
Unread:
Mel: Bish I’m coming by to pick up N for dinner. I’ll snag you then
* * *
I’m officially submerged in the Chirper-Brittle acquisition. Due diligence paperwork litters my desk, and my email inbox complains that I’m taking up more than my fair share of the company cloud storage space. The thought of having time this summer to get some sun at the waterfront and watch the waves lap against the shore got me through my last gruelling case. Now the only chance I have of making it through is burying my head deep underneath the paperwork and forgetting that the prospect of a break ever existed.
Besides, that badge—Lia Juma, Junior Partner—could be mine soon. My dad was an accountant at Gold & Wright when I was young. His English wasn’t good enough for law, but he always talked about the glamorous people in their business suits oozing money and power.
But I can’t get ahead of myself. The entire week has been madness trying to get up to speed. I’ve been ignoring my phone, too busy even to wash my hair. Luckily, dry shampoo can do miracles and my tightly wound bun hides the grease. The documents do not care about my hair.
A shrill ring resonates from my phone. I ignore the pit gnawing at my stomach and answer my mother. She’s the one person I always pick up for, even in the middle of the day.
“Lia, beta,” my mother says, without a proper greeting. “When is the next time you can come to mosque? Zebun told me that her son is moving back now that he’s divorced. While it’s not ideal that he’s been married before, he has no children.
Plus, you’re not that young. Anyway, he’s a doctor. Would you like me to arrange a meeting?”
I cover the mouthpiece, hiding my sigh. “What do you think, Mom?”
Our calls oscillate between my mother trying to set me up and her despairing about where she went wrong with me and my sister. The best way I’ve learned to deal with it is to bite my tongue and let it wash over me. My mom, a widow, needs something to live for too, and I guess it’s me and my reproductive organs.
I don’t want to get her hopes up, so I don’t tell her anything about Hassan. We’ve been trying to coordinate another dinner, but between my stacks of paperwork and his networking meetings, our calendars are an overflowing dumpster. The stars aligned this morning briefly but shotgunning coffee in between our respective obligations isn’t the precursor to procreating my mother’s been hoping for.
Ever since my dad passed away, she’s been anxious. Am I eating well? Sleeping well? Feeling well? But today, there’s an unexpected frenzy in her voice. “Have you talked to Mel yet today?”
“No, but I will,” I reassure her as I click through my emails, responding to queries while my mom continues to ramble, her tone becoming increasingly distressed.
“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t vital. You know Mel can’t be trusted with something like this,” my mother says as I scan Eleanor’s latest missive.
“It’s totally fine, Mom,” I say, with no clue what I’m agreeing to. “I gotta go.”
After I hang up on my mom, I’m so enveloped in getting everything done as quickly as possible that I forget lunch.
“Earth to Lia.” Norah Li, my best friend since law school and current office mate, chucks a balled-up napkin at me. “Your sister says you’ve been MIA.”
I’m frozen in front of the screen, my muscles so stiff from stasis that I don’t even jump as the napkin falls to the floor. “What?”
Norah pulls herself out of her chair and perches on my desk, her silky black hair brushing down her cheeks. “I know you’re in do-not-disturb mode, but I need details.”
I swivel away from the screen. “Details about what?”
“Lia. You went out with Hassan. Dreamboat extraordinaire, you know, if you’re into men. I’ve been waiting a week for the tea.” She hands me a warm cup of coffee from Jimmy’s. This was premeditated.
“Guilty as charged,” I say, taking a quick peek at the door to make sure that it’s closed. When people walk by our office, I want them to think Lia, billing-hour powerhouse. Not Lia, coffee chit-chat queen. “We’ve been taking it slow.”
“That’s not enough to warrant a free coffee.” Norah purses her lips.
“He’s been sweet.” My cheeks heat. “He gets that I have a lot going on right now with this project and keeping up billing hours.”
Norah arches a brow. “You can date and have a career at the same time, you know. Mel and I do it.” Ever since Norah and my sister started dating a few months ago, they’ve been nagging at me to get back on the market so we can double date.
I raise my chin and meet her eyes. “I know that. But it could get messy if things don’t go well. We both work here, and you know drama would hurt my career more than it would his. It’s still such a boys’ club here.”
“Ugh, I know.” Norah rolls her eyes and then grows serious. “Lia, relationships are messy. But if you think you have a chance at something real here, I say go for it.”
I bite my lower lip. “I mean, maybe.”
I’m about to spill more when Norah’s phone buzzes. She pulls it out, brow creasing.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Um. Kind of.” Norah runs a jerky hand through her hair. “Mel’s going to stop by. She has a family favour to ask you. We’d both really appreciate it.”
“Sure,” I say slowly. When Norah and Mel first got together, I was envious at how easy love seemed to be for them. My straitlaced best friend had never looked happier. But ever since they got serious, I seem to be the one pulling the short straw when dealing with my mother. It’s one thing for her wild child to date women, but to marry one? While her other daughter is still single? What if everyone in the community found out? No eligible suitors would consider her other daughter an appropriate match then. I want to be excited about this thing with Hassan, but it feels heavy. There’s a lot riding on it.
“Great.” Norah smiles. “Are things okay with you, by the way? You know, outside of your hot date.”
Norah used to be the person I would turn to for support, but now it feels like I can’t and I shouldn’t. Mel should be her priority.
“All good. Just a lot of work to get through.” My grin is more of a grimace, but Norah doesn’t notice as she crumples her paper coffee cup, throws it towards the garbage can and misses.
Time passes by in a sea of coffee, quick washroom breaks and document review. A sharp rap makes my shoulders jerk. Norah opens the heavy door and my sister flings herself at her. Norah, usually as reserved as me, grins broadly, curling her taller body downwards to give my sister a tight hug.
“What about me?” I say dryly, standing up. My sister greets me almost as exuberantly with a squeeze. I hold my breath, so I don’t sneeze as her wild curls tickle my nose.
“You need to be better at answering your phone.” Mel throws her purse on my desk and plops down in my chair, setting a half-empty Coke bottle on the table.
“I was busy.”
“She was. I literally had to buy her a coffee to get, like, ten seconds of eye contact,” Norah says, leaning against my desk.
“Do you want to come to PAI with us for dinner?” Mel asks pointedly. She always tries to include me, but watching them together only makes me envious and mournful. Even PAI’s fabled pad thai can’t make up for that feeling.
“I’d love to, but I have so much to get through before Monday.”
Norah gives Mel a meaningful glance and grabs her bag from under her desk. “I have a couple errands to run. I’ll be back soon.”
She’s out the door before I have a chance to protest.
“What’s up?” I ask. My sister drops in occasionally, but never with such urgency.
“Didn’t you talk to Mom?” My sister’s irreverent face tightens.
“I did, but I kind of zoned out. I was busy,” I say defensively.
“Sit down, please.” As a high school drama teacher, Mel’s finessed the art of getting unruly adolescents to calm down. As an ardent rule-following adult, I immediately drop into Norah’s Herman Miller Aeron chair, swivelling to face her.
My sister’s intent gaze makes me shift in my seat. “Is everything okay?”
Mel blinks away the shininess in her chestnut eyes. “Listen, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but Shehla Auntie’s mammogram showed cancer.”
I stare at her, stunned. Her lips are thin, her usually smirking face serious. I’m back there again, to the grim faces of the doctors and the resigned look in my father’s eyes. The way he held my mother’s hand, promising her it would be okay when it wasn’t. The way a heavy rock of responsibility fell on my back that day. And it was my fault. My temple pounds, a warning of the debilitating migraines I get when I’ve reached my breaking point.
My sister shoves my insulated water bottle into my hand. “Breathe, Lia.”
Automatically, I take a sip, coughing at the chill, but at least it forces me to focus on my breath and not the world falling apart around me. The pain subsides.
“They caught it on a screening test, so it’s at an early stage,” Mel says. “Shehla will come to Toronto to get everything done.”
“Okay, that’s good. Treatment for breast cancer has gotten better,” I say to reassure us both, pushing my drink to the side. For a moment, I’m smelling the sharp scent of the hand sanitizer and bleach of the hospital instead of the filtered air of the office. My stomach roils.
My sister blinks hard and grabs my hand briefly, her palm against mine, like we’re children again. It’s inconceivable that this would happen to Shehla Auntie. She’s already been screwed by her ex-husband, who gambled their mortgage money on cryptocurrency. My mother had to lend her and her daughter our cottage just so they could get by. And now this.
“We’ll get through this. Mom’s going to be looking after Shehla during treatment.” Mel’s forehead creases. “But listen. I need to ask you for a favour.”
“Of course.” Mel rarely asks for favours. Meanwhile, I’m constantly asking for favours when I’m submerged in work. Can you grab me dinner? Please take my dry cleaning in. Can you take Mom to her appointment?
“Someone needs to stay with Ciji while Aunt Shehla comes down to Toronto.”
I frown. My cousin must be fifteen now. Older, but not old enough to stay on her own. Her dad moved to San Francisco to take an IT job a couple years ago, so he’s not in the picture. “What do you mean? Won’t she come to Toronto with Shehla Auntie?”
“During the divorce, she got into some trouble at school, and she’s been ‘acting out.’” Mel makes air quotations with her fingers. “She failed math and she can only stay in the advanced math stream if she takes a remedial course this summer. Shehla is desperate for help. Ciji has to stay at the cottage. It’s too late for her to register at another school board, and there’s no way her deadbeat dad is going to pitch in.”
“Seriously? That’s so irresponsible of her. I guess you’re not going to get this summer off after all?” Maybe she needs me to rent her apartment out or something. I can play landlord for the summer. Or pay someone to play landlord for me.
Mel crosses and uncrosses her legs, avoiding my eyes. “Listen, I offered to go up and help, but Mom freaked out. Mom thinks you’ll be a better role model for her.” My sister’s voice is dry but her hand tremors. When she notices me looking, she clasps it with the other.
I groan. Every time I think our family is back on track, Mel and my mother clash. I try to mediate, but no matter what I do, my mother reverts to her preconceived notions of what it means to be successful.
“Lia, can you please go up this summer? It’s only for a month and I think it’ll be better for me to stay here to help take Aunt Shehla to the doctor’s appointments. And I want to spend the summer with Norah.”
I’m silent.
The idea sinks in. I haven’t been up to the cottage since I was eighteen. “I’m not sure I can go there,” I say finally.
“It’s been years, it’ll be fine,” Mel sighs.
“You’re the teacher. It’s better if it’s you.” I press my nails into my hand to keep my face expressionless. I’m not going to think about why I haven’t been to the cottage for a decade. Desperately I add, “Besides, Norah could come up for a bit. It could be a getaway for both of you.”
“Mom was clear. She wants you to stay with Ciji.” Mel rolls her eyes, but her voice is dark with hurt.
“I’ll talk to her. Seriously. I can’t go,” I say hollowly. “I liter- ally just started this big project.”
Mel’s face flickers, but she continues as if she hasn’t heard me. “I thought you weren’t even supposed to be in the office right now?”
The curse of your best friend dating your sister. I worry my lower lip, weighing whether I should lie. Mel’s mouth twists in consternation. There is only one option. Family first.
“Fine. I’ll do it.” The words come out on a harsh breath.
Mel straightens, taking a gulp from her bottle and leaving it uncapped. My fingers itch to close it and tidy the mess that’s threatening my summer. “Anyway, think about how much work you’ll get done up there. It’ll only be you, Ciji and the loons.”
She’s missing a crucial name. Even though I was the one who told her to never bring him up again, she’d tell me if he was going to be there.
Besides, the last time I impulse-googled him, he was working for an international banking firm with offices in New York and London. He’s probably out of the country, maybe even on another continent.
“Sure,” I say, taking a steadying breath to keep my hands from shaking.
“Maybe it’ll be good for you, you know. Maybe it’ll be like a vacation.”
I let out a skeptical laugh. I’ll be so busy with this project for Eleanor, it’ll basically be like I’m spending all day at the office. Just with a less ergonomic chair. And with the sounds of waves and grass rustling in the background instead of sirens and honking.
I blink. Suddenly, I’m freed of my crinoline blouse and greasy bun. I’m on a boat with my wild hair tangling with the breeze. Sticky and tired from a day filled with hauling bags of capricious weeds. Rubbing sunscreen on a broad freckled back, drawing looping circles until I feel a shiver beneath my fingers.
“Thanks so much.” Mel smiles, grabbing me for a hug, her elbow precariously close to her open bottle. “I’ll drive you up, of course.”
I breathe in. My sister smells like lavender. It’s probably the closest I’ll get to a relaxing spa day for a while. When she releases me, I give her a reassuring smile even though my heart is still stuttering.
The door swings open and Norah slips in. She pops a brown bag with a chocolate chip muffin on my desk. “If you need a snack,” she says. “Are we all good here? Lia, are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
Mel gets up and I take back my seat, but somehow, it’s not as comfortable as it was an hour ago.
“I have to get some work done,” I say faintly, as my screen loads.
“We’ve already lost her,” Mel tells Norah.
As they step outside, Norah murmurs, “How did she take it?”
My heart pumps as I scroll through the documents, my brain struggling to make sense of the words. Yet somehow, even with all the panic, there’s a little thrill in me, that same anticipation I used to get every summer when we were teenagers. I used to think the feeling was about him, but maybe it’s the change of scenery that I need. Maybe I need a reset. I can lay down my ghosts and then come back, ready to dive into a new relationship with Hassan. Ready to make junior partner. Ready for everything.
