The Bride Wore Size 12

But, as Cooper said last night, things aren’t always what they seem.

“Hi, you two,” I say, placing my bag on Lisa’s desk and sinking into her chair. It’s incredibly uncomfortable. Lisa has what she calls an “Asian butt,” which she’s explained is “no butt.” To combat this, she’s made me purchase all manners of padding for her office chair from the supply catalog.

I have plenty of natural padding on my size-twelve white-girl butt, so all of Lisa’s cushions make it quite difficult for me to sit in her chair without towering over everyone like that blond lady knight on Game of Thrones.

“So,” I say, looking down on Rashid and Ameera like I’m sitting on a draft horse. “Thanks for coming. I’m sorry for dragging you both down here so early in the morning, and I’m also sorry too for that outburst you must have heard out there—”

“Please,” Rashid interrupts with a charming smile. He closes the student handbook to show that I have his full attention. “Don’t concern yourself about that. I’m sorry about the difficult time you must be going through right now. I’m so glad to see that you received my flowers.”

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you for those. They’re very beautiful. I noticed that you also sent some to Ameera.”

Rashid throws a look at the girl that I recognize. It’s the same one he wore in the outer office that day he’d heard her roommate say that Ameera was ill, an expression of worried concern that you rarely see on boys’ faces unless they’re speaking about . . .

. . . well, about a girl they love.

“I did,” he says. “She had quite a shock. I don’t think she’s picked them up from the desk, though.”

“She hasn’t,” I say. “Ameera, do you want to tell me why you didn’t pick up the flowers Rashid sent you?”

“Please,” Rashid says with a smile. “I told you. My name is Shiraz in this country. Because I’m chilled, like the—”

“Fine wine,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Yes, I know, we got it. Ameera? The flowers? What’s wrong with them?”

Ameera squirms uncomfortably in her chair, removing her finger from her mouth and giving me a shy smile.

“I never received a notice about a flower delivery. Is that why I’m here? I can go get them now, if that’s all this is about. I didn’t know it was against the rules not to pick up flowers.”

She’s a good liar. I might believe her if I didn’t know Gavin had already talked to her about the flowers.

“This isn’t about the flowers, Ameera,” I say, “and you know it. It’s about your roommate Kaileigh.”

The smile vanishes. She looks genuinely shocked—and worried . . . more worried than the statement warrants. Where before her cheeks had been flushed with color from whatever she and Rashid had been doing behind the door, suddenly they’re pale again.

“Kaileigh? What’s the matter with her?” Ameera asks, her fingers now going to clutch her chair seat. “I saw her in the room a little while ago, and she was fine—”

Ameera glances at Rashid, who meets her gaze, then does something that completely and utterly surprises me:

He reaches out across the distance between their two chairs for her hand . . .

. . . and she releases her seat and takes it, clutching his fingers so tightly, and gazing at him so deeply, that I’m certain in that moment that she loves him every bit as much as he loves her, and I love Cooper.

It’s not the kind of look you can mistake.

“Of course Kaileigh’s all right,” I say, bewildered. I’d been about to introduce the topic of Kaileigh’s mother’s complaint—Ameera’s failure to spend a single night in her own bed for most of orientation week. I’m fairly certain I now know in whose bed Ameera has been sleeping. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“I don’t understand,” Rashid says, still holding tightly to Ameera’s hand. There’s something protective, but also possessive, about his grip on her. “If Ameera’s roommate is all right, then why are the two of us here?”

“Why don’t you tell me why the two of you are here, Rashid? And don’t ask me again to call you Shiraz,” I add quickly as he opens his mouth. “I’m sorry, but that name is ridiculous. I don’t believe any of your true friends really call you that—and it’s obvious you two are a little more than friends.”

Ameera stares at me with wide, frightened eyes. Rashid’s gaze flies immediately to the grate above Lisa’s doorway. His expression has gone as wary as hers. Only now does he drop Ameera’s hand, and then it’s to raise a finger to his lips.

“Shhh.” He points to the grate.

I look at the grate, then back at him, and nod that I understand—though of course I don’t, not really. Now the expression on Ameera’s face is one of absolute terror.

Rashid gets up from his chair and pulls the blinds on both of Lisa’s windows so that no one walking by on the street can see us. I reach over to Lisa’s computer and turn on her Patsy Cline playlist, loud—Patsy, we’ve discovered, makes excellent ambient background noise so that anyone who might be eavesdropping in the outer office can’t hear a thing that’s being discussed in the inner sanctum. The only problem is that sometimes we forget to turn her on.

Not this time, however.

“Okay,” I say to them, keeping my voice low. “I get it. You two are dating, and it’s bad form for the prince of Qalif to have a commoner as a girlfriend, right? But why did you get so worried when I asked you about your roommate, Ameera? Is it because you thought the same thing might have happened to her that happened to your RA, Jasmine?”

Rashid has sunk back into his chair—but not before moving it next to Ameera’s so he could put a comforting arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders.

“No, Miss Wells,” he whispers. “You don’t understand. Ameera is not my girlfriend. She is my wife.”

31

Cute “Save the Date”

Ideas If You’re Getting Married in an Exotic Locale:

Send your guests a coconut with “Save the Date!” inscribed on it! For instance:

Rashid and Ameera

are getting married in Qalif

(Invitation to follow)