“Well?”
Danny looked up. Chadil was glowering at him, obviously awaiting the answer to some question.
“Yeah,” said Danny. “Yeah. That’s fine.” He tore open another envelope, an invitation to a wine tasting, from the looks of it. Gold-foil grapevines danced around a snapshot of some vineyard, all sun-soaked and pastoral. He shuffled that one to the back. Boring.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. It was probably Azar again, trying to tempt him to his party. He’d texted three times this morning, and Danny couldn’t lie. He wanted to go. The palace was stifling him, the weight of his responsibilities. A night of scotch and stupidity on Azar’s yacht might be just what he needed, the chance to let go.
Chadil snatched an envelope from the pile. “Malik’s lost weekend? Oh, you’re not going on that. That he’d even invite you—”
“Oh, come on. I’m not an idiot. I haven’t seen Malik in years.” He took the envelope back and buried it in the stack. “But life’s too complicated lately. I don’t need to go crazy, but I could use a night out.”
“Complications can be good.” He held up his wrist, flashing his Rolex. “The more complications a watch has, the better time it keeps.”
“Or the more you pay for it, at least.” A child’s high-pitched cry caught his attention, and he drifted in the opposite direction. “Speaking of complications, you must’ve heard from the lawyers about the website by now. Where am I, liability-wise?”
Chadil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re off the hook. The contract itself is quite lenient, and as for the misrepresentation claim, your sincere attempt at courtship invalidates that.” His mouth turned down. “At least, I thought you were sincere. I hope you haven’t been—”
“How long have you known?” Danny’s relief faded in the face of Chadil’s disapproval. What right had he to judge? He’d courted Raina to avoid embarrassment. It’d been pure luck they’d been made for each other. What was he playing at, hiding Danny’s get-out-of-jail-free card up his sleeve? Danny elbowed him, none too gently. “Hey. How long?”
“A while. A week, I suppose.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because you and Jayne seemed happy.” A note of annoyance crept into his voice. “And because, honestly, you need a sense of purpose. Seeing you with Jayne, with that little boy of hers, I thought you might have found that. I thought they were good for you, and you for them.”
“That’s not your call to make.”
“Maybe not, but was I wrong?”
No. You weren’t.
Danny glanced over his shoulder. He could hear the children playing, Noah and Graham running around in the garden. Jayne would be with them, maybe tossing a ball, maybe teaching them to blow bubbles. He could go out and find her, hold her hand and tell her...what?
I messed up. I was stupid. Ask me anything you want.
His stomach did a slow roll. Jayne had a way of sneaking past his defenses, arrowing straight to his heart. She’d see what was there, and that would be that.
“It’s too late,” he said. “That ship’s sailed.”
“Not if you love her. Not if she loves you.” Chadil shook him by the shoulders, but Danny couldn’t focus. His brother’s words were just noise, in one ear and out the other. The blood pounded behind his eyes as Chadil gripped him tight. “Danny. I know how you see me—your boring older brother—but trust me on this. It’s never too late when you’re in love.”
15
Danny swallowed, dry-mouthed. He wished Chadil had never told him about the contract, never told him he was free. He’d have to tell Jayne now, and the way she was looking at him, he was half-convinced she’d pack up Noah and go. She hadn’t brought much or done much shopping. She could be gone in an hour, a day at the outside, and he wasn’t ready. Even spitting with annoyance, those blue eyes drew him in. He ached to brush her hair off her face, feel those soft golden curls between his fingers.
“Would you join me for lunch?” he asked instead. It came out stiff and formal, and Jayne’s lip twitched.
“I suppose I could eat,” she said. She scooped her bag off the table and got to her feet. “I was headed out anyway, in a couple of hours.”
“Oh.” Danny thought of asking where, but she might say apartment hunting, or to get tickets home. That would be awkward over lunch. “Do you want shawarma?”
“I was thinking maybe burgers? Something from home.”
Danny’s mouth went sour at the idea of American cuisine, all that ketchup and cheese. He tried to hide his grimace, but Jayne caught it anyway.
“If you don’t feel like it, just say so.”
“It’s not that. Just, it’s too hot for burgers. Maybe meet in the middle? How about Greek?”
It was Jayne’s turn to pull a face. “Too many olives.”
They rolled into town still trying to decide. Danny wasn’t sure he was hungry anymore, and Jayne just looked bored. She tapped on the window as they passed a café.
“How about there? They have sandwiches, right? What could go wrong with sandwiches?”
“I guess.” Danny signaled the driver, and they got out. The heat hit them like a wall, dry and breathless. Jayne coughed as a dust cloud blew up, stepped back as security went ahead, scouting out the interior.
“Let’s get inside,” she said, but the place was packed with students. School had just let out, and every table was occupied.
“We have seats on the patio,” called the barista, and Danny was sure his expression mirrored Jayne’s, a limp mix of exhaustion and irritation.
“They call that a patio?” Jayne peered past the trellis, at the few tables clustered around a dying fig tree. “There’s no shade, so much dust...”
Danny’s annoyance rose. She’d turned down shawarma. She’d picked this place. The desert was dusty, and as for the sun—it got hot in America, didn’t it? He forced himself to smile. “At least there aren’t pigeons.”
“Huh?”
“Pigeons. To steal our bread.”
“Oh.” Jayne leaned on the counter. “I was thinking of soup, actually. Could I get the chickpea and tomato?”
“I guess I’ll have the stuffed eggplant,” said Danny. He hadn’t been ready to order, but you couldn’t go far wrong with eggplant.
“Sit down, if you’d like. I’ll bring it to your table.”
Danny went out and found a seat. It wobbled, but he plopped down anyway. Jayne dusted hers off and did the same. She had a touch of sunburn, just over her nose, and Danny reached out, concerned.
“Did you wear sunblock?”
“Yeah.” Her hand darted to her face. “Oh, no. I’m not a lobster, am I?”
“No. No, of course not. You’re just a little pink.” Danny smiled, but Jayne was digging for her compact, patting her nose with powder. She seemed nervous, and he wondered if it was him. If she was reaching for any distraction to delay confrontation.
Their food arrived, and Danny’s was disappointing, eggplant boiled gray and stuffed with sickly-sweet walnut paste. Jayne’s soup looked thin, and she stirred it with her spoon.
“I think they forgot the—” A truck horn blatted, cutting her off.
“What?”
“I was just being stupid. Never mind.” Jayne stirred her soup again, and she tried a bite. Danny picked at his eggplant, and he wanted to make a joke, anything to lighten the mood, but for once in his life, he couldn’t summon a single witty remark. And Jayne wasn’t looking at him, eating with her head down.
He sighed and pushed the food around his plate.
* * *
It was cool in the car at least, and Danny found himself drifting. His eyes slid shut, and he thought maybe a nap might help. He hadn’t been sleeping much, and his head was a mess. An hour, maybe two—
Jayne tapped on the glass. “Could we make a quick stop?”
“Here, miss?” The driver’s voice crackled over the intercom. “I could let you out at the light.”
/> “Thanks. That’s perfect.” She reached for her bag, and Danny sat up, blinking.
“Jayne? You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I meant to mention—” She pointed back the way they’d come. “Education First’s headquarters are here. I said I’d drop by today. You don’t mind, do you? I can get a taxi back, if you want to go ahead.”
Danny frowned. He had plenty to do, and it sounded like Jayne’s afternoon was spoken for. They could both use some distance, he to gather his thoughts, she for whatever this was. A job interview, he guessed. But Jayne looked excited, eyes lighting up as the car pulled to the curb. This was important to her. She deserved his support, and he wanted to be there. To see her in her element.
“I’ll come,” he said. That got him a smile, and he felt his spirits lift as he followed her inside. Jayne strode up to reception, pulling a thick folder from her bag.
“Good afternoon. I’m Jayne Barnes, dropping off a proposal for Mr. Safar.”
“Miss Barnes.” The receptionist positively beamed. “He’s been waiting for you. Just a moment, and I’ll—oh. Here he is.”
A well-dressed man stepped off the elevator, face lighting up as he caught sight of Jayne. Danny knew him immediately, the one she’d been schmoozing at the gala. Who’d offered her a job, he reminded himself. Danny wasn’t the jealous type, but he looked awfully happy to see her, pumping her hand with gusto.
“I’m delighted you’ve come,” he said. “I’ve been telling everyone about you, and—Your Highness.” He caught sight of Danny and bowed low. “My apologies. I didn’t see you there.”
Danny nodded. “Good to see you again.”
“You were in school with my son, weren’t you?” Safar’s smile widened. “I remember you on school trips, always making everyone laugh.”
“I remember you too,” said Danny. “Always telling me to sit down.” He managed a lopsided grin. “How is your son? Doing well, I trust?”
“Happily married, with his second son on the way.” Safar got out his wallet and flashed a photo of a fat-cheeked toddler. “That’s Hadi, his first. My first grandson.”
“Congratulations.” Danny glanced at Jayne. Did she want more children? Did he? The smile froze on his lips—he’d never thought about children of his own. The idea shocked him to silence.
“Let me show you around,” said Safar. He ushered Jayne down the hall, and Danny hung back, half-listening as they hashed over her plans, the foundation’s plans, the programs they’d design together. The walls were plastered with photos of children, some professional portraits, some Polaroids. Some came with notes attached, blocky little-kid letters spelling out thanks. A few came with drawings, happy kids under happy suns, bright primary colors.
“This all sounds wonderful.” Safar stopped in a sunny atrium, turning to Jayne. “I have to say I’m impressed. We’ve been developing programs along these same lines, and we can incorporate most of these ideas. We can—”
Danny tuned him out. Education had never topped his list of priorities. He wandered to a shaded alcove, all daubed in blue and green. Cleanly styled letters marched across the wall, easily readable even to him. The effect was soothing, and he felt himself relax.
“What do you think of that poem?”
Danny jumped. He hadn’t heard Jayne approach.
“Where’s Safar?”
“He went to get me an application.” She slipped her arm through his. “Did you like the poem?”
Danny’s head spun. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening. What poem?”
“The one on the wall.” She pointed at the text, and Danny blinked. He had been enjoying it, even comforted by it, but he’d be damned if he could remember a word he’d read. Jayne at his elbow had knocked everything else out of his head. “It’s about having dyslexia. About having a lot to say, but everyone’s just focused on your mistakes. It’s like, you can’t spell, but they can’t understand, so which is the real problem?”
Danny stared at the words, saw what she meant, and stopped reading, not wanting to get too close to the truth, the way words disobeyed and danced across the page—or the wall.
“It’s more common than you’d think, dyslexia. F. Scott Fitzgerald had it, and Leonardo da Vinci.” She moved a little closer, her elbow jogging his. “Albert Einstein. Keanu Reeves.”
“Keanu? Really?” Danny chuckled. “I loved The Matrix. I used to picture it when I was doing parkour—pretend I was, you know—I’d taken the red pill. I was in control.” He shifted away from the poem.
“What about you, Danny?”
“Mm?” He willed her not to ask.
“Are you dyslexic?”
He closed his eyes. He was drowning, those blue and green swirls rising up to engulf him. This was the moment he’d been avoiding his whole life, the moment he went from slacker to broken. From irresponsible to just dumb. The moment his brothers stopped scolding him and simply gave up, and all because of Jayne.
“You’ve been doing this too long,” he said. “You’re seeing it everywhere.” He squared his shoulders and turned away. “I’m not one of your charity cases.”
“Danny!” Jayne jerked back like he’d slapped her.
“I’ll thank you not to repeat that nonsense, especially where anyone might hear you.” He turned and stalked off, not caring if she followed.
16
Jayne sipped her tea, tasting honey and jasmine. It was sweet, and the air smelled sweeter, but it felt like a memory, something that had happened long ago. Something that was over, just like her and Danny.
Noah was missing him, asking for Dadada. Jayne distracted him with playdates, but there was a tough conversation coming. Things were getting awkward with Danny out of the picture. No one had said anything, but she couldn’t stay at the palace forever, not courting, not wanted.
“He’ll come back” said Edlyn. “He always does. He gets like this sometimes—everything gets too much, and he drops off the radar. Believe me. It’s not you.”
Jayne smiled, but it was her. She’d stepped over the line, and there was no going back. Danny had vanished without so much as a goodbye. She’d pushed and she’d pushed, and she’d pushed him away. And maybe it was for the best. He had problems he wasn’t ready to face, and so did she. She’d let her ex get between them, the seed of distrust he’d planted growing into a thorn bush, and—
“Oh, no.” Edlyn tapped on her tablet.
“What?” Jayne leaned over, surprised to see her own picture staring up at her, the one she’d used on her profile. “What is that?”
“Don’t look. It’s The Sunrise.”
“The Sunrise?”
“Al-Mifadhir’s answer to Perez Hilton. Gossip journalism at its worst.” Edlyn powered down the screen, but Jayne reached for her own phone. She pulled up the site and shouted in dismay.
“I told you not to look.”
“I know, but...” Her nails dug into her palm as she scanned the headlines. “What—I don’t look like my photo? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s a slow news day. They do this to everyone. It’s—”
“‘False advertising!’” Jayne’s voice cracked as she read aloud. “It says I got one of those department store makeovers so I could land a man above my station.” Her indignation rose. “I was going to a wedding. I used that picture because I looked happy.”
“Nobody believes that stuff.” Edlyn tugged at Jayne’s phone, to no avail. “Listen. They once posted a picture of me holding a cat, and they said it was a dead one I was using as a scarf. It’s funny when you think about it. You have to—”
“‘The bride’s baggage included one beat-up suitcase, one knockoff purse, and a toddler of uncertain parentage.’ Uncertain? There is nothing uncertain about Noah.”
“Okay, stop reading. Your princess commands it.” Edlyn plucked the phone from her hand, but Jayne had already seen it, the worst news of all. She closed her eyes, but it was burned into her memory, Danny on a sailboat with a wo
man on each arm, laughing uproariously as champagne fountained in his face. He was still wearing the suit he’d worn to Education First, the same tie, the same everything. And the caption—
“Is that true?”
“Jayne.”
“Did he really say—” She pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to know.
Edlyn glanced at the screen, and Jayne knew she was reading it too, Danny’s quote: “Hey, I answer to my country. So marriage? Someone else telling me what to do? Maybe when I’m fifty.”
“He just dumped me. In the paper.” Her eyes swam with tears. “Why would he do that?”
“He wouldn’t.” Edlyn slid the phone back across the table. “He’s my brother. I know him. He’d never hurt you like that.”
Jayne wanted to believe her, but his words were right there, with the picture to match. Was this tit for tat? She’d embarrassed him, so he’d served her in kind?
Her phone rang, and she picked it up. “Hello?”
“Miss Barnes?” A familiar voice boomed down the line.
“Mr. Safar?” She scrubbed at her eyes. “Good to hear from you. Was my application all right?”
“More than all right,” he said. “You’re a stellar applicant. I’d love to have you to join us on a trial basis, see how you fit with the team. It’s a three-month probationary period, but I’m certain you’ll be perfect.”
“Oh.” Jayne’s mouth hung open. She felt numb. This was everything she’d worked toward, her dream coming true, but all she felt was confused. “Uh, I—”
“Is something the matter?”
Edlyn was staring, and Jayne took a deep breath. She swallowed hard and sat up straighter. “No. No, of course not. You just bowled me over. This is great news.”
“So you’ll join us?”
“I’d be honored.” Jayne sat staring into space as Safar offered his congratulations. She waited for her excitement to kick in, but his voice faded to background noise and the gardens turned gray. She saw Danny instead, his eyes sparkling with laughter, his arm slung around a waist that wasn’t hers.
The Sheikh’s Mail-Order Bride: Halabi Sheikhs Book Three Page 9