by BETH KERY
“I’m not sure that’d be wise on our part,” she whispered.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” he asked, his mouth going hard. “This isn’t about wisdom. I thought you got that eight years ago. This is about us, and what happens when we’re together. This is about the way you make me feel. I come alive when I’m with you. Sometimes I wish it weren’t true, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is.”
She opened her mouth, stunned and moved by his customary blunt honesty but entirely unexpected declaration of feeling. His mouth covered hers again. She clutched onto his jacket, feeling herself being swept away by him.
Letting it happen.
“Jesus, they’re just as bad as they were in Crescent Bay. Worse,” someone said loudly next to them. “Get off your ass and ask the girl to dance, Ash.”
Laila blinked the sunlight out of her eyes and saw Rudy and Tahi standing over them. A ballad resounded around them. Tahi grinned down at her knowingly, but her eyebrows were arched in a silent query. She and Laila hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk in private since they’d pounced on Tahi in the condo earlier. She was curious about what was happening between Asher and Laila. She wasn’t sure she had a great answer . . . or at least, not an easy one. What happened between her and Asher had always been inexplicable. Undeniably powerful. She watched as Rudy and Tahi began to dance and talk once more. They moved away from them.
Asher stood swiftly, startling her. Still shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up the considerable length of him. She noticed his somber expression. He put out his hand and she took it. He pulled her up, and she fell against his chest with a thud and a bark of laughter. His arm went around her waist, holding her tight against him. He grabbed her hand. They immediately began to dance to the modern song the band now played.
“We’ve never danced before,” she said after a few seconds. Something about his stark honesty before, the bright fall sunlight, the brilliant fall foliage, the plaintive ballad and the feeling of moving so intimately with him had left her dazed.
“There’s a lot of things we’ve never done before,” he said.
Keeping her body pressed against his, she reached up and removed his sunglasses. She tucked them into his jacket pocket and put her hand back in his. “There. That’s better,” she said, looking directly into his blue eyes. They were fierce and smoldering, just like she’d known they would be. But she caught a hint of expectation in his narrowed gaze, as well. He was still waiting for her answer.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll spend every minute with you that I can. Because you always make me feel a way I’ve never felt in my life. So full. So happy I feel like I’m going to spill over with it.”
He bent and kissed her hard on the mouth, moving her in double time to the music for a few bars of music. When he broke their kiss, she realized he was smiling down at her. She smiled back and shook her head.
“What?” he asked as they spun to the music.
“The song,” she said hesitantly. It was Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud.”
“People fall in love in mysterious ways,” she echoed the young man singing on the stage.
She watched as Asher’s eyes darkened and his smile vanished. Regret instantly filled her. She shouldn’t have said that loaded word. He’d recognized the lyric as well, heard the echo of their feelings in it . . . their history. For a second, she recalled it vividly, the moment she’d looked up from bathing nude in the secret lake and seen him standing there on the shore. His stare had gone through her like an arrow.
He pulled her tighter against him, lowering his head and pressing his lips against her neck . . . hiding his expression from her. There was so much more she wanted to express. All the words and feelings swelled inside her until she felt like she’d burst.
She had sacrificed the right to speak so intimately to him when she’d walked away eight years ago. Was that what he subtly told her in that moment? She’d hurt him badly. She understood if he wanted to protect himself, at least in part, from her. This time, he’d be the one to walk away. Maybe she owed it to him, to carry out their short affair with as little drama and heartache as possible?
The last thing she wanted was to hurt him again.
Neither of them said anything else for the remainder of the dance. Laila suspected he didn’t want them to speak . . . to make things messier than they already were.
Yes, they’d agreed to spend their time together before Asher left the country, to enjoy their uncommonly strong connection to one another. But Laila recognized that the uncertainty of their future and the heartache of their past prevented them from risking saying that single haunting word: Love.
• • •
She was determined to live every moment with him to the fullest, despite her rush of doubt. Asher treated the four of them to dinner at Oriole that night. Afterward, they all went to Laila and Tahi’s condo. Laila had them sit at the cozy booth in their kitchen while she prepared tea. After a few minutes of moving around furtively at the counter, trying to hide what she was doing, she turned and headed toward the table, carrying a plate of Moroccan donuts and cookies in one hand and a large slice of orange cardamom cake with a lit candle stuck in it in the other.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a whole cake, but this one is still fresh,” she told Asher. She started to sing “Happy Birthday.” Rudy and Tahi joined in as she set the slice of cake in front of a nonplussed Asher.
“How did you know it was my birthday tomorrow?” he asked Laila once he’d blown out the candle at the end of the song and Laila had sat down next to him in the booth.
She reached to pull the single candle out of his slice of cake. She sucked the cake off the end between a playful smile.
“I told you before. You’d be shocked at the details I remember about you.”
• • •
Asher and Rudy inhaled the cake, cookies and donuts, both of them repeatedly saying how good they were, both of them amazed that Tahi and Laila had made them.
“You don’t get anything about being a Moroccan female if you don’t believe we could have made these things blindfolded by the time we were twelve,” Tahi teased.
They sat at the table long after all the sweets were done, drinking tea and then decaf coffee. Rudy had a collection of entertaining stories about celebrities he’d photographed, both as a hired photographer and as a member of the paparazzi. Tahi milked every detail about some of her favorite celebs. Asher talked some too about his work overseas. But the stories he relayed were light and humorous, anecdotes that hardly began to explain the shadow that fell over his face at times over the topic of his coverage in the Middle East, especially Aleppo, or the hint of sadness in his eyes as he recalled certain memories. She knew he’d experienced some horrors there. She felt the difference those years and those tragedies had created in him. From reading his stories, she understood he’d witnessed both unimaginable terror and incredible moments of kindness and humanity. Instead of becoming aloof in order to deal with what he’d seen, he’d grown tougher—true—but also more compassionate. She didn’t need him to spill every detail of his ordeals in order to know that.
She leaned over to kiss him when it turned midnight. “Happy birthday for real, this time,” she whispered, smiling against his lips.
“Let’s go back to my place and celebrate for real,” he said quietly, just for her ears.
“Yeah. Let’s do that. For sure,” she murmured, nibbling again at his firm, sexy lower lip.
“Laila, my mom called this morning,” Tahi called from across the large round table. “She was needling for us to try to get to Detroit on Saturday night next weekend. I told her we couldn’t leave until Sunday morning, but she kept suggesting it, like if she said it enough, it would become reality. I told her for the millionth time that you worked on Saturday nights, but be warned. The aunties are starting to get really
worked up about this visit.” Her cousin gave Rudy a sideways glance. Laila had whispered to Tahi earlier while they dressed to go out with the guys that Laila’s true career was to be kept a secret from Rudy.
“I know. I talked to Mamma this morning,” Laila said uneasily. She felt Asher’s stare on her cheek. She wished Tahi hadn’t been the one to first bring up the visit. Laila herself had planned to break it to him in her own way and time.
“What’s this? You’re going to Detroit next Sunday? For how long?” Asher asked in a low voice. She had a sickening feeling of the familiar.
“Just until Monday,” Laila said.
“Our cousin Driss is bringing his fiancée to Detroit. It’s the first time for her to meet everyone, and the aunties are going overboard, as usual, planning gargantuan feasts and parties. Everyone in town except for the mayor is coming over at some point, but it’s not because the aunties didn’t ask him,” Tahi told Rudy with a grin.
“I’m leaving for London early Wednesday morning,” Asher said tensely, for Laila’s ears only.
“I know,” she whispered. Feeling torn, she started to explain about how the weekend had been planned for months now, ever since Driss had called to say he was bringing Sara to Detroit. She wanted to tell him how important it was for Tahi and her to be there, given Zara’s absence and her uncle Reda’s and aunt Nadine’s vulnerability over that situation. Before she could get out a word of explanation, though, she heard the sound of distant knocking. Someone was at the front door. Tahi’s blank look told Laila she didn’t have a clue who it could be either.
“I’ll get it,” Laila said, sliding out of the booth. “Someone probably has the wrong unit.”
A few seconds later she looked through the peephole on the front door. Her stomach dropped. Rafe stood in the hallway wearing a dark overcoat. She hesitated but only for a few seconds. Firming her resolve, she swung open the front door.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly.
Rafe’s mouth looked tight with anxiety. Or was it anger?
“I’ve been trying to get hold of you all last night and today,” he said. “Is everything all right?” His gaze flickered off her face to the left of her. Instinctively, Laila turned. Asher stood behind her, his brow lowered, his jaw hard, his expression unreadable.
He looked intimidating as hell.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m so sorry for not getting back sooner. Uh . . . Rafe Durand, I’d like you to meet Asher Gaites.”
“I sat you at the club the other night,” Rafe said after a stunned pause. “You wanted a front-row seat.”
“Yeah. That was me,” Asher stated flatly.
“Asher and I have known each other for years,” Laila said, clearing her throat. Neither man said anything else. Talk about awkward. Asher’s stare on Rafe was so unwavering and cold, she was surprised Rafe didn’t freeze to the spot.
“Rafe,” she said. “We need to talk. Can we go outside?”
“In the hallway?” His incredulous, panicked expression warned Laila he had an idea what was coming.
“I just . . .” She waved toward the interior of the condo. In the distance, she saw Rudy and Tahi coming out of the kitchen. “Wanted someplace private, that’s all.”
He stepped back into the hallway. Laila gave a silent, brooding Asher an apologetic, desperate glance over her shoulder before she shut the door between them. She turned to Rafe, struggling for what to say. Finally, only the simple truth came out of her throat.
“I’ve loved him since I was nineteen years old,” she said softly. “He’s a foreign correspondent for the New York Gazette. He just returned to Chicago for a short visit before he takes another job overseas, and we—”
“Hooked up?”
She sensed his anger. “It’s more than that, Rafe. I’m not saying it’ll last forever, but this thing between Asher and me is far from a casual hookup.”
He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “So that’s it? Things are over between us before they really ever got started? I don’t stand a chance, is that what you’re saying? One second, you’re available, and then he walks onto the scene, and you’re not? What about when he walks out of your life again, Laila? What then?”
“I don’t know that I was ever available. Not while he’s alive somewhere. Anywhere.” He looked a little taken aback by her stark admission. The truth had just come out of her. She herself hadn’t fully understood it until that moment. Yes, she’d dated over the years. But she’d never truly committed herself to anyone, never truly shared all of herself. Just like she’d once predicted would happen, her heart had frozen eight years ago.
She sighed, hating to see the dawning hurt on Rafe’s face. She cared about him. He’d been good to her, as her manager and promoter. He’d made a success of the impossible, a woman in show business who wanted to remain partially in the shadows. It was unheard of. Few other promoters and managers would have ever touched her, seeing it as too big a boundary to overcome in the high-profile entertainment industry. Regular public appearances were as necessary as an in-your-face, constant social media presence. Rafe may not have liked her choice for privacy, but he’d gone along with it. He’d helped her make the impossible possible.
“I’m sorry, Rafe. I really am,” she said sincerely. “You’ve been a good friend to me. A good manager. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you. I hope you know how grateful I am, you made my career possible. My dreams possible. It’s just—”
“What?” he asked.
“Well . . . you’ve always asked me about the inspiration for the passion in my songs, the sexual tension and longing in my lyrics.” His expression stiffened in understanding. He glanced at the door behind her, to the foyer where Asher had just been standing.
“Him? You’re telling me your inspiration was him?”
“Yes,” Laila replied softly. A strange, mixed feeling of joy and sadness went through her, a sense of inevitability. “I think it always will be.”
• • •
After Rafe left, Laila went inside and shut the door quietly. She wasn’t surprised to see Asher standing in the hallway outside the living room. He’d already put on his jacket. He had her coat draped in the crook of his elbow. She approached him, unoffended that he’d assumed she’d still want to spend the night with him. She couldn’t imagine being separated from him in that moment, even though unspoken currents of emotion seemed to ebb and flow between them. He held up her coat and helped her put it on.
They didn’t really talk until Rudy had dropped them off at Asher’s condo. After they’d removed their coats, Asher grabbed her hand and led her down the hallway to the bedroom. He turned her to face him in the shadowed room.
“Did Rafe take it all right?” he asked her as he began to unfasten the button-down sweater she wore.
“As well as can be imagined,” Laila replied softly, staring up at his shadowed face.
“He wanted to be with you ever since he first saw you perform, didn’t he?”
She heard the edge to his tone. “It doesn’t matter. I was never really invested in seeing him romantically. It never felt right.” He silently drew her sweater over her shoulders. She wore only a bra beneath it. She caught the sweater with her hands and tossed it onto a chair in the bedroom suite. He touched her chest with his fingertips.
“What is it, then?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced up, unsurprised she couldn’t fool him. “It’s just something I said to Rafe, out there in that hallway,” she said in a hushed tone. “Something I hadn’t realized was true until I said it.”
“What?” he asked, his head dipping downward until their faces were only inches apart. She swallowed back the lump in her throat. If she could say it so simply to Rafe, why was it so hard to say it to him, whom it most concerned?
“I told him that as long as you were somewhere on this earth, even if it
was on the other side of the globe, I was never really going to be available to another man. I never really have been. Not for all these years.”
His gliding fingertips paused on the upper swell of her left breast. She saw his eyes glitter in the dim light as he searched her face.
“You said that?”
She smiled and nodded. Her eyelids burned when she closed them. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“I am, though.”
She glanced up sharply. “Why?”
“Because saying it,” he murmured, brushing the line of her jaw with his fingertip. “It’s like . . . stepping out from behind the curtain a little bit, isn’t it?”
She was confused. “I use the curtain for my professional life, because I want to protect my anonymity. It has nothing to do with my relationships. Nothing to do with you.”
His quirked his brow. “You use it to keep your family life intact, to protect the people you love, to remain respectful of your culture and way of life, and to live out your dreams at once. I’d say there’s some parallel.”
She shook her head, feeling agitated. She stepped away from him. “No. You’re wrong. I don’t just use the curtain to protect my family. I use it to protect myself. I don’t want to be anyone else’s property. I’m never going to spend my days at publicity events getting my picture taken thousands of times, or sending off tweets about every personal moment of my day. My singing is an important part of me, but it’s mine to share as I choose. I’ve found a way to make it all work, by singing behind the curtain.”
She saw his small shrug and doubtful expression. Emotion surged in her until it boiled over.
“What are you saying? Are you mad because I found a way to make music and performing a part of my life when I couldn’t find a way to do that with you when I was nineteen years old?”
“I’m saying that there are similarities with how you’ve managed your gift as a songwriter and performer and how you manage being with me. Not eight years ago. I understand you were barely an adult then. I’m talking about right now.”
