by Avery Laval
Khalid paused for a moment, then decided there was no harm in admitting the truth. She’d get it out of him eventually anyway. “Me too. A father, I mean.”
“Even if the child is mine?”
Khalid looked for the words he needed. “It wouldn’t have to be a completely loveless marriage,” he began. “I mean, in time, it might be possible for us to…” His voice trailed off.
Marissa jumped on his words. “Do you think?”
Before he could even hear the end of what he knew was an impossible question, he heard the annoying beep of his radio.
“What was that?” she asked.
“It’s the other car trying to reach us. There’s a handheld in the glove box.”
“A walkie-talkie?” she asked as she fished it out.
“We don’t get much cell service out here,” he quipped, then took it from her and depressed the speak button. “Abbasi.”
“Sir, we’re getting word of bad weather coming. Nothing serious, but we shouldn’t stay at the beach too long.”
Khalid looked out at the skies. It looked like nothing more than a beautiful late afternoon. Bright blue skies, and the creamy white beach finally within sight. He groaned. He’d hoped to have time to explore the site of his prospective park and still make it home to the city tonight.
“Right, thanks,” he barked back and set down the radio. “We’ll have to cut this short,” he told Marissa. “But still, you have to see this beach. It’s the most beautiful place in the world.”
He wasn’t exaggerating, even in the slightest. At five p.m., with the sun starting to lower in the sky, the rocky shores were glinting and bouncing the light in every direction, making the sand look like it glowed. There were clouds, way off on the horizon, but other than that it was ideal beach weather, and the spray of the waves offered relief from the heat. The tide was going out, she saw, leaving behind a beautiful pattern of rippled sand and rock polished over centuries. Standing several yards back from the water, where she was well clear of getting damp feet, Marissa bent and lifted up one perfectly round white stone, slid her fingers over it, and turned it over in her hand. It felt like glass.
Khalid waved her over and began to lead her down the beach, to where the crags of rock extended further into the water, cutting off their path. Behind them, the bodyguards trailed discreetly, but there was no forgetting they were there. Marissa was starting to feel the burden of never being alone. Again she marveled that Khalid could manage this life, after growing up so very much on his own.
After they’d walked as far as they could, each commenting on the beauty of the area or its possibilities from time to time, but mostly moving ahead in a companionable silence, they sat down on a low constellation of rocks that had been exposed by the retreating tide. As they watched the sun sink lower in the sky, Marissa let her mind wander to thoughts of the future. She could see that this would make a wonderful national park. Khalid had mentioned he thought it would be best accessed by boat, which would allow them to closely regulate the number of visitors and limit the intrusions they caused, but still allow citizens to experience this place of unique beauty. It was an inspired idea. She knew from her own travels that every time she saw the beauty of nature at a park or protected wilderness, she was that much more motivated to do everything she could to preserve it for future generations. Maybe someday, her own child would get to sail up to this magnificent beach and see it in almost the exact same condition as she saw it now—not as an overdeveloped resort or littered wasteland.
Lulled by the soft sounds of the waves, she let herself imagine such a day, slipping out of the self-protective mind-set she’d been wrapped in so tightly, if only for a moment. A family holiday, she, Khalid, and their child—or maybe children?—making a day trip, exploring the beach together and laughing at the antics of the skipjacks and seabirds. She could picture it perfectly, the whole family side by side, and then back on the yacht, the children tucked in bed, and she and Khalid alone together, able to enjoy each other without reservation. To lose themselves in each other’s passion. For a lifetime.
Get real, she told herself. It wasn’t going to happen. The happy family tableau in her mind was no different than the oasis conjured up by a man dying of thirst in the desert. An illusion.
But for a moment, as they sat quietly side by side, staring out at the endless sea, it seemed like it could be real.
A bird overhead shrieked, and coming back to the present, Marissa felt motion on her shoulder. She turned to face Khalid and saw him looking back at her, bemused. All at once she realized that she had been leaning up against him, using his body to prop up her own while she’d been daydreaming. She sat up with a start, feeling the strange loss that came every time their bodies were separated hit her like a blast of cold air. Khalid merely shook his head and smiled sadly. It had been a long time since she’d seen that faraway look in his eyes. Had he been thinking of a similar future, she wondered, as they’d sat there for who knows how long?
And if he had, then didn’t that mean that maybe they had a chance at a marriage that wasn’t loveless?
She tried not to let herself consider it, but it was too late. The seed of hope had been planted. Maybe, in time, she could forgive him for leaving her so alone in Las Vegas for such a stupid reason. Not just forgive him—she was well on her way there already, despite her best attempts—but also forget the pain he’d added to the pool of grief she’d already been drowning in from the loss of their unborn child. Maybe they could find a way to develop a real marriage, not one based on an accidental pregnancy, but on more, on the trust and faith in each other that they once had shared. She felt the twinge of her heart as she thought of it. Could she ever again trust him, after what had happened when he left her the first time? She knew it was most likely impossible. But let herself hope, all the same.
“It’s time,” he said softly, cutting through the swirl of emotions that had begun to engulf her. “We should start our trip home.”
The sun was dipping lower, turning the sea a darker blue and the sky into a riot of orange. The tide had moved out quite a long way as they’d been sitting there, revealing more and more of those undulating patterns of sand and rock that Marissa found so beautiful. The sound of the waves was distant now. She nodded. “It’s time to go back.” She couldn’t let herself use the word “home” to describe the palace. Not yet.
Khalid turned to his guards and spoke something to them in Arabic, giving them an accompanying wave that sent them starting ahead back down the beach to their trucks. Then he took Marissa’s chin in his cupped hand and lifted her face to his, staring her in the eyes for a moment that lasted forever, made her heart stop beating in her chest and her breath halt in her lungs. At first she thought he might kiss her—hoped, in fact, and felt her lips part slightly with anticipation. But he only stared, looking deep into her eyes as though she held some sort of answers there.
Then he dropped her chin and looked away, stepping off the low rocks and moving without a moment’s hesitation in the direction of his guards, not even waiting to see if she’d follow.
That night, after they’d made their long journey home and the palace was by and large asleep, he went to her. He hadn’t meant to. He certainly hadn’t planned it. But after lying in bed for an hour, tossing and turning and thinking of nothing but the way the sun had glinted off her profile while she’d looked out at the sea and let the wind play in the loose strands of hair around her neck, he gave up. He wanted her tonight, more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. And she was lying only one long hallway away. Without a second thought, he grabbed the light cotton robe he kept draped over a chair and pulled on a pair of white pajama pants, tightening the drawstring around his waist. He was sure he looked disheveled, but he didn’t care. He figured she wouldn’t care either.
She didn’t. He pounded on her balcony door and she opened it in moments, as if she had been pacing nearby, and when she saw him she didn’t look at all surprised—mor
e like relieved. She was dressed in a silky long gown that clung to her breasts and pushed him over the edge. He groaned and slipped into the bedroom, reaching for her as he did, pulling her to him the moment the door was closed behind them. He pinned her against the door as he took her mouth with his. “I need you,” he managed to moan between kisses.
“Yes,” was all she said.
To his ears, that yes meant a thousand things. Yes, you need me. Yes, I need you too. Yes, we have to do this.
Yes, I’m yours, if only for tonight.
He moaned again as she pressed her body into his, and then he took her hand and led her to the bed, tossed her on top of it and began to slide his hands up and under her gown. She trembled at his touch and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Yes,” she said again, as at last he took exactly what he needed.
10
Though they never discussed what was happening, they passed a week this way, Khalid attending to his business all day, then coming to her at night by way of the balcony door. Marissa found herself living for the sound of his knock, praying that he would be there, and every night he was. They made love, unforgettable, unbelievable love that had her mindless with pleasure, and afterward he didn’t rush off as she expected him to. He stayed, propped up on his side, and ran his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep or until they were ready for more. Some nights they would stay up late, alternately talking and making love, one leading to the other as smoothly and seamlessly as if they’d been together every day for the last three years, instead of living on different continents. Despite her constant efforts to protect her heart, to remind herself of the facts of her situation, nothing worked, and Marissa found herself falling deeper and deeper into the illusion that he could be hers again. That what they once shared could come back, only deeper and stronger with the years.
And then her period came. It arrived in the morning, thirteen days after their night in Cairo. She’d had a feeling, noticed the telltale emotions that had her hiding in her bedroom the day before and the slight twinge of early cramps, but had ignored them both, telling herself it could be a sign of either outcome. When he came to her room, she’d said nothing of her mood swings, waiting anxiously for real physical evidence. And dreading it at the same time.
That night the sex had been different. Slower than usual, more deliberate. That thick, foreign word he’d used that fateful night in Cairo slipped from his tongue for the first time since. “Marissa. Habibti,” he’d whispered as he buried his face in her neck, just before the orgasm vibrated through her body into his. Only now she knew what it meant. She’d looked it up online. It meant My Love.
Afterward she’d wept, though she’d tried not to let him see. She didn’t want to tell him that she suspected hormones were rushing through her in that old familiar way, making her an emotional land mine waiting to go off. But he noticed, rolled over and cupped her body with his own, slid his large hand up her body, and brushed away the tears. He hadn’t asked why she was crying. He’d just pushed away her hair and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and squeezed her tighter. And then he’d fallen asleep that way, his hot breath tickling her back as she tried to quiet her mind and ignore the overpowering sensation of safety she felt in his arms.
When, late the next morning, she saw that she couldn’t ignore the evidence anymore, she felt bereaved.
It made no sense. She had come to Cairo for a business trip. She’d had dinner with Khalid for the sake of closure. And she’d gotten it when she’d discovered he’d let gossip ruin their relationship and send him into a fake marriage while she was mourning the death of their child. She hadn’t wanted to bear him children. She hadn’t wanted to get pregnant at all. She’d spent nights praying it was a false alarm so she could return to her family and go back to the life she’d had before.
Only now she didn’t want that life anymore. Now she wanted a life with Khalid, in his arms, no matter where he was. She wanted to give him the family he’d always longed for. She wanted him to love her the way she knew she loved him.
She knew now that it was something she could never have. Not anymore.
She steeled herself, ignoring the temptation not to tell him, reminding herself that she owed him total honesty in these matters after the way she’d kept him in the dark before. Not telling him about the first pregnancy had been a terrible mistake, and she would not make that mistake again.
She returned to the bedroom and found him there, sitting up in bed, looking hungrily in her direction. She smiled weakly. He swung his legs to the side, rose from the bed, and came to her where she stood.
“It’s still early,” he growled as he wrapped his arms around her, the desire in him obvious through his thin cotton pants. “Come back to bed with me, send me off into the day properly.”
“Khalid,” she started, stepping backwards out of his arms. This was impossible when he stood so close. His touch made it impossible to think. “It came.”
He looked at her, confused, for a long time, his arms still extended so he could hold her. Then she saw the comprehension dawn on his face, felt as he dropped his hands to his sides, turned his face to the floor. “I see,” he said at last. His face was unreadable from this angle. What was he feeling? Relieved? Dejected? Some mix of both?
“So I guess it was a false alarm after all,” she said, fighting to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She pushed her lips into a false smile. “We were worried over nothing.”
“Right,” he replied, and for a second, she thought maybe he too was disappointed. He looked back up, shoved the fall of hair that had tumbled into his eyes out of the way. “It’s just that, I thought last night, when you were crying, that maybe that was hormones, making you emotional.” Her heart tugged against itself when she remembered the closeness she’d felt to him just eight hours ago. “I didn’t realize it was the other kind of hormones.” His voice sounded dejected. Could he have wanted the same thing as she? Then he shattered the illusion. “Well,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as though he’d just run a marathon. “What a relief, right?”
She nodded, unable to trust her voice.
“I guess we dodged a bullet,” he went on, never looking her in the eye. He walked to the point on the floor where she’d pushed him out of his robe the night before and grabbed it up, slid his arms into it, and belted it around his narrow waist. “Now life can return to normal.” He made “normal” sound like a good thing, when it was the last thing in the world she wanted.
“Yes,” she said weakly. “Normal. Khalid?” She had no idea what she wanted to say to him. Could she tell him that she wanted to stay here, with him, even though there was no reason to? It was ridiculous, and he would laugh at her. She floundered around desperately searching for some excuse to stay, but came up empty.
“Yes?” he asked, and already that old impatience was back in his voice.
“Nothing,” she said at last, feeling like a fool. Telling him how she was feeling was the stupidest thing she could do. He’d known exactly how much she loved him before, and that hadn’t stopped him from breaking her heart. “Sorry, I’m just so relieved I can hardly think,” she added, deciding that at this point she was entitled to a small lie to protect her dignity. “It’s just such a load off my mind.”
At those words, he did look at her again, but the softness of his expression was gone, replaced by irritation. He raised his eyebrows slightly, set his jaw in a scowl. “I’m sure it is.”
There was no doubt—their affair was officially over. He couldn’t wait to see the back of her.
“Very well. Later you can meet up with Jana to arrange your travel. I’m sure we can have you back home in a matter of days. Maybe sooner.” She wished he didn’t sound so ready to be rid of her. “So. I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” he said darkly as he moved toward the balcony door. “Maybe we should have a celebration.”
“Mmm,” she replied, anxious for him to get out, so he wouldn’t see her cry at the thought of celebrating thi
s outcome. “Have a nice day,” she called after him lamely as he slipped out the way he had come, and the door closed with a click behind him.
A nice day? He was already planning his celebration. Which would involve, no doubt, anyone but her. Whereas she knew exactly where she would be today. Crumpled up on the floor alone. Wondering how she’d let herself get hurt by him all over again.
The moment he was safely on the balcony, alone, Khalid let his pinched face fall into a frown, his hands tighten into angry fists. A false alarm, she’d called it. A load off her mind.
How nice for her. Now she could go back to her American life, the life she’d been so ready to raise his son alone in the first time around. A life without him.
But she’d seemed so different over the last week. Ever since they’d visited the northern beach, she’d talked as though she’d wanted to be here, almost as though she hoped she were pregnant.
He was an idiot to believe her interest in him or Rifaisa could last. The only reason she was willing to stay here was because he was making her. How many times did he have to learn that lesson before he’d stop wanting her, stop thinking about her body and her hands and her eyes every goddamned second of the day?
With a muffled groan he stormed back to his bedroom. There was no point in standing here mooning around about a child—hell, about a family—that wasn’t meant to be.
When he opened the door he heard the telltale sound of his mobile phone chirping. It was Amid, and he ignored the call, not trusting himself not to yell bloody murder at the first poor soul he ran up against this morning. But when the caller gave up, he looked at his emails and saw repeated missives from Jana and Amid. He clicked through them. The contract he’d nailed down in Cairo was in danger of falling through. Someone, a dark horse, had come in with a lowball offer. There was a good chance the whole agreement could fall apart before the day was out.