Alexander said nothing, and Delysia figured he wasn’t at all impressed with her explanation. She could see how weak it was in retrospect. She’d never met someone who she was so attracted to, yet who managed to make her feel like an idiot all at once. “Alexander,” she began, and stopped to wince.
“Please don’t feel like you have to talk if you feel ill,” he said, softly.
Well, she wouldn’t then. Delysia meekly submitted to having her face and hands wiped, almost as if she were a child. Alexander brought a large, clean-smelling flannel dressing gown and helped her out of her clothing (Delysia was too miserable to feel embarrassed) and into it. He turned up the heat, brought her a small blanket, more water, and offered to make her ginger tea. Delysia was oddly touched by all his fussing, although a myriad of opposing emotions were coursing through her at that moment.
Alexander would not go to bed, though she asked him to more than once. Instead he sat in one of the antique armchairs close to the sofa, watching her with those intense dark eyes that turned her insides to jelly as well as made her feel defensive, in a way. She was starting to feel sleepy, surrounded by warmth. Her headache faded a bit, and she asked Alexander for that cup of tea, just to get rid of him.
He came back in moments with two large mugs that smelled of ginger and honey, plus a small package of Club Crackers. She took a sip. “Oh that is good,” she breathed out with some surprise. The brew was bracingly spicy and sweet, and she could feel it running down her throat, warming her stomach, her limbs, her fingertips even. “Where did you—”
“Rhonda let me into the kitchen.”
“What time is it?” She pushed back the sleeve of his dressing gown and peered at the face of her watch. “Oh God, it’s nearly four in the morning, and we’re hosting an English tea tomorrow, Alexander.”
“Aren’t the British novelist podcast girls doing all the heavy lifting for that one?”
“Yes, but you’re supposed to introduce them.”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, that’s right.”
They fell silent for a moment.
“You really should go to bed, Alexander.”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I’m not going to leave you,” he said simply. “Also, the sofa is my bed.”
Goodness, that was right. Delysia felt her face flush, not only at realizing how much she had inconvenienced him but also being presented with a sudden image of them tucked together in her bed, that sleepy afternoon when they’d crossed the line. Alexander shifted; she wondered if he remembered it, too.
“Alexander—”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was nervous, uncertain. He was picking nervously at a thread on his cuff. “Delysia—I never—what happened the other day. I never talked about it, but—”
Delysia felt her heart leap into her throat.
“I knew it was inappropriate, but it happened because I wanted it to. I’ve wanted to for quite a long time. And I wanted you to know that because—I don’t want you to think—I don’t look down on you, Delysia, I admire you incredibly. And I’m a moron who isn’t at all right for you, but—” His words were all rushing into each other, and he cleared his throat.
“Alexander—”
He shook his head. “Tonight isn’t about me looking down on you. It’s quite the opposite.”
The words hung in the air as words sometimes do, and there were patches of color on Alexander’s tan cheeks. Her face was burning, too, she could feel it. Apparently all it took was a few sweet words to drag them both back to junior high.
Delysia licked her lips and was about to speak when her phone rang, loud and angry. They both jumped, and she pulled it out.
Her mother.
“It’s my mum,” she said abruptly.
“Oh.” Alexander looked surprised. “It’s rather late, isn’t it? Early,” he corrected himself, looking down at his watch.
“She’s in Abu Dhabi,” Delysia said, simply. “It’s afternoon there.”
“Ah. Well. I’d be happy to step into the library while you take your call...”
“No, I’d like for her to meet you. If that’s okay?”
Alexander looked startled, but agreed.
When Delysia answered, the screen flashed and a woman’s face came into shadowy view. “My darling, is that you?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Delysia’s mother launched into her familiar, musical cadence that immediately made her relax. All Alexander and Delysia could see was a small shrunken woman in a sweater, with a scarf draped loosely around her head and shoulders.
“Who is the man next to you, darling?” her mother asked immediately. Her eyes narrowed, even on camera.
“He’s a friend, Mama. Dr. Alexander Abbott-Hill—” Here, she paused and switched to English. “He teaches at a university here and he’s helping me with a project. He wanted to say hello.”
“So you’re my daughter’s friend?” she said with emphasis on the last word.
“Ah—yes, ma’am, quite good friends.”
“You are a professor.”
“Yes, I am.”
“They didn’t much look like you when I was in school.”
“Mama!” Delysia laughed, but shot Alexander a mortified look.
“She seems to have done very well for herself, ma’am.”
“Traipsing around the internet when she should be in class, you mean.” The older woman snorted. Delysia knew her mother wasn’t as upset as she sounded, but she’d been irritated when Delysia had taken up her social media activities. When do you plan on going to class? she’d complained then.
Now she shifted her headscarf, revealing a soft nest of graying curls, cropped short last year during the course of her treatment. She sagged against the pillows and Delysia knew she was tired, despite how brief their conversation had been.
“Mama, you should rest,” Delysia spoke softly into the silence, switching back to Tigrinya.
“You are right. Bless you both. It was nice to meet your professor.”
“Sleep well, Mama.”
The screen went black, and she and Alexander were left alone, looking at each other.
Delysia spoke first. “She’s sick,” she said quietly. “It’s her kidneys, they don’t work, not properly. I wasn’t able to get a visa for her here, but I grew up in Dubai, so...” Her voice trailed off. “Healthcare is great there, but it isn’t free. I’d used most of my loan money to pay for the first few months of treatment, but I can’t pay for both school and that with my internet work.”
“Oh, Delysia.” His voice was heavy with feeling, and she suddenly felt dampness press heavy behind her lids. There was something about Alexander that simply radiated kindness; she was drawn to that like a moth to light. “I’m so very sorry,” he added, and his hand was on her knee, warm and firm through the thin dressing gown. She blinked rapidly and felt Alexander push something soft into her hand. She looked down, saw a clean square of white and immediately began to laugh instead of cry.
“What—what did I do?”
“A handkerchief?” She dabbed at her eyes carefully—mascara! “Dear God, is it a prop for the trip?” she managed through her snickers.
“Why, no.” He actually looked bemused. “I usually travel with a couple, they’re much more durable than Kleenex, and—”
“Oh, never mind.” She folded it and he gestured that she should keep it. She swallowed hard, steadied her voice. “What now?”
“Well, we should get some sleep, and we’ll see about tomorrow.” His eyes were still resting on her, intense in a way they hadn’t been before this. “Delysia, are you all right to—”
“Of course I am. She’s sick, Alexander, and she’s getting treated. She isn’t dying.” The last word came out sharper than she intended.
He cleared his t
hroat and offered a smile of his own. “I am sorry.”
“I didn’t introduce you so you’d feel sorry for me,” she said quickly. “I just—I guess I wanted you to know why. Are my eyes red?” She tipped her chin up so he could see.
“You look beautiful,” he said so sincerely that her eyes threatened to well up again. “You are a remarkable woman, Delysia Daniels.”
God damn it.
Alexander reached out and touched her cheek; she closed her eyes. I like you, he’d said. A warmth that had nothing to do with the tea, or the hot towels, was making her body tingle.
“So what happens now?” she said.
She could not see his face, but she felt rather than saw his smile. “I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow, in DC,” he said simply. “If you’ll let me.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Alexander peered at her as if gauging the sincerity of her words. What he saw must have satisfied him, because when he spoke again, his voice was steady. Calm.
“Do you want to go to bed?” he asked, simply.
She shook her head. “Can we stay up awhile?” If they went to bed, her mind would race, and she didn’t think she had the strength for that right now.
The two settled back into the sofa, staring at the square of window framed by gold velvet curtains. Dawn was coming; the sky had been black when they arrived, but now the square of glass was a gray that smudged around the edges. Delysia’s head felt oddly clear now as the effects of the pill wore off; Alexander made them another round of tea, and they sipped in companionable silence.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment.
His only answer to that was a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth. He took a long sip before speaking. “I liked meeting your mother.”
“She liked you, too.”
“You could tell just from that short conversation?”
“Oh, you would have known if she didn’t.” A smile, wide and reluctant, was tugging the edges of Delysia’s mouth. “She hated Nicky, and she never even spoke to him, only saw a picture of him that I’d accidentally tagged myself in on Facebook. She called him ‘that boy.’”
Alexander winced, and Delysia half-turned to face him. “I grew up in Dubai,” she said.
“Yes, I remember.”
She was speaking to him, but she was thinking of somewhere far away, somewhere beyond him. “I didn’t come here till med school.”
“Were you born there?”
She shook her head. “New York. My mother wanted to make sure I had an American passport. She never got approved to come back, though. This was never meant to be permanent.”
“You must miss her.”
Delysia nodded and shifted. “Everyone is over there, really, scattered all over the Gulf. My father is still in Eritrea, but my cousins, my aunts, uncles, even my father’s family...”
“I remember.” She’d spoken of them, that day in the Cereal Bar.
“I’m not quite sure if I belong in Dubai, but I know I don’t belong here.”
Alexander nodded gravely.
“What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking about your apartment,” he replied after the briefest of moments. “The bare white walls, except for your filming corner. It doesn’t look much like you. You’re very—” He gestured vaguely.
“Very what?”
Alexander took a deep breath. “Vibrant.”
Were she less tired, Delysia would have blushed, but instead she allowed her body to relax, and rested her head on his shoulder. When his fingers sought hers in the semi-darkness, she laced hers through them.
“I met Nicky the year I left med school,” Delysia said after a moment. She spoke abruptly, as if in answer to something that had been asked silently, and rapidly thereafter. “He was my first boyfriend. I was kind of sheltered in Dubai, and I guess I’ve got him to thank for all this, in a way. He got me my first couple thousand followers...” She trailed off. “I never would have gotten this far if it wasn’t for him.”
Alexander’s eyebrows lifted just a fraction. “You don’t have to be grateful to him, Delysia. He drugged you.”
“He didn’t. I took them.” Delysia swallowed hard. She must still be high; nothing else could explain why she was still babbling at this rate. “I was so very stupid.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself for this.” Alexander’s voice grew harsh, and he straightened up on the sofa, and for the first time that evening Delysia saw the carefully tempered anger he must have been curbing all evening. It darkened his eyes, made his body rigid with tension. Even through her nausea and exhaustion, she felt a sudden thrill that shocked her. She’d never seen Alexander angry, or this intense.
“I’ve always made it easy for him to make an idiot out of me.”
“Jesus Christ, Delysia—” Alexander made a sharp noise deep in his throat, and closed his eyes.
Delysia gulped her cooling tea. The motion was, thank God, preventing her eyes from welling up. “There is nothing worse,” she finally said, “there’s nothing more futile than trying to make it work with someone you know is desperately wrong for you. I knew, and I tried anyway.”
“Delysia—”
“You don’t understand. Nicky and me—started out as a fake relationship, too.”
It was as if all the light went out of the room. Alexander simply stared at her. Feeling wretched, Delysia took another, long sip of tea. “We kept up the ruse for a while. When we started sleeping together—” She paused. “Things got complicated. We broke up, we lost endorsements, Eden blamed me. This entire business is based on being likeable, Alexander. If those pictures had gotten out I’d have been done.”
When Alexander finally spoke, it was through his teeth. “You,” he said, “were not responsible for tonight. You weren’t responsible for choosing a shitty boyfriend, and—” He took a deep breath, cut himself off. “I know it isn’t any of my business, but—”
In reply, Delysia felt for a place to put her tea on the floor, then inched forward, wrapped her arms around him silently. It might be reckless and stupid, but she wanted that warmth desperately, and she knew she could trust Alexander for that, if nothing else. She also felt an odd desire to comfort him, although she was the one who’d been hurt.
“No one can protect anyone,” she said softly. “Thank you for trying.”
Chapter Ten
“So how much are you willing to spend?”
Alexander blinked. “Excuse me?”
Faye sighed, then repeated herself. The two were seated in a secluded corner of the main lounge car, with large white mugs in front of them—strong Yorkshire tea for Alexander, black coffee for Faye—and a tray of assorted pastries he’d ordered to charm her with. She hadn’t touched a single one, but she had been typing busily on her phone the entire time.
“Spend?”
“You,” Faye said very patiently, as if talking to a small child, “asked me here, on a very busy day for us, to tell me you wanted to arrange something nice for Delysia when we stop in DC. If our definitions of nice match—which I’m not sure they do at the moment—you’re going to have to be willing to spend. Much more than is worth it for a fake relationship,” she added.
Alexander supposed she couldn’t help it, but he colored anyway. Faye actually looked up from her phone to peer into his face, and she smiled—grimly, but still.
“Are you going to tell me what’s what? Are you sleeping with her?” She held up a hand when Alexander began to splutter. “I’m not asking because I’m nosy—I’m her publicist, Alexander. And whatever you want to say about me, you know I’ve only her best interests in mind.”
“You certainly didn’t last night, when she was practically drugged by those—”
Faye looked at him sharply. “So it was the Kims? Delysia told me she’d taken som
e shit from Nicky and got in trouble, but she was vague on the rest.”
“Hardly accurate,” Alexander mumbled, tugging at the lapel of his blazer and trying hard to calm himself. He didn’t want to expand on what had happened without Delysia there, but he supposed Faye knew enough to guess most of it.
“That woman hates her,” Faye said more to herself than to Alexander.
“She dated her brother and it ended badly. I think there was some resentment there.”
Faye shook her head as if forbidding that line of conversation. “She’s an adult, Alexander. I can’t stop her from going out with reprehensible people any more than I can stop her from flying.” Her face softened a little—just a little. “She told me about how you helped her, though, and how you kept it quiet.”
Silence fell between them again as Alexander looked down at his hands. “I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“She wouldn’t even talk about Eden.” Alexander took a breath. “If that indeed is her friend, then—”
Faye was shaking her head in short, staccato beats. “Delysia doesn’t have friends, Alexander. Not really. You’re the closest I’ve seen in a really long time.”
“Oh.” Alexander had sensed it, of course, but to hear it from the lips of the woman who acted as her surrogate parent made it hit harder, for some reason. Perhaps he and the young woman he’d fallen for so hard had more in common than he’d thought.
At length Faye spoke again, and actually placed her phone down on the table. “Is this going to be a friendly gesture to show your appreciation, Alexander? Or is this a date? It’s obvious that you two have been...close this trip.” She raised a hand against his protests. “That photo shoot, for one. And the fact that Delysia seems to care so much about what you think. And the fact that—” She hesitated, then forged ahead. “Oh, fuck it. She likes you. It’s obvious.”
Alexander was discomfited to feel his heart thrumming somewhere low in his chest. He desperately wanted to say “she does?” but knew that would likely sound more idiotic than anything else. Besides, Faye was still speaking.
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