“I know,” she smiled, sliding her tongue across her teeth. “It’s just a little fast, I suppose.”
“Well, when you know, you know,” Amie confirmed, looking up into Malik’s eyes and brushing her hand against his cheek. “What about you, Zafina, are you with anyone?”
“So Amie,” the sister went on, ignoring her question. “Tell me, when is Malik’s birthday?”
Amie fought the urge to frown. Low blow, Zafina, low blow. She laughed nervously and looked to Malik for some guidance, trying to think of any plausible reason why she wouldn’t have learned his birthdate in the course of five months together.
“Oh, Zafina, she knows it’s in October,” Malik said, sounding bored. “You know how she knows?”
“How?”
“Because hers is in October, too!” he lied.
Zafina stared between the two of them before finally relenting to a laugh. Her demeanor seemed to soften from that point on, and the Newlywed Game came to a halt. The three were practically inseparable for the rest of the afternoon. The gala turned to dinner and dinner turned to cocktails, and before long the pair had been socializing well into the evening, with no shortage of important patrons and well-dressed figures for Amie to meet. Many of the guests spoke English, which boded well for her. She frequently heard the term, ‘Sheikh Malik’s American fiancée’ floating around the room.
There were a few more bumps and blips throughout the night, including an incorrect pronunciation of Malik’s last name to the gallery owners, as well as not even being able to fathom a guess at his mother’s name while talking to some of his childhood friends.
To Amie’s exhausted relief, the night slowly drew to a close. The gallery owners cut the ribbon on their new art wing, as well as announcing a large donation to the local hospital, and finally, around midnight, Amie and Malik left the gallery.
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