Between the Covers

by Louisa Masters

  “Of course,” she said. “She has enough on her mind right now… but I can come as just a friend, if you like? Nobody has to know we’re together.” Even as she said it, even as it made perfect sense, that last sentence seemed wrong. Don’t be dumb, Dani. It wasn’t like she was offering to be his dirty little secret—just to be discreet about their relationship while his family grieved. Meeting your son’s girlfriend that you didn’t know existed for the first time right after the death of your husband would be a horrible thing for Malik’s mother—and for her, Malik, and the rest of his family.

  “That’s not fair to you,” he said gently, and finally, finally, there was a spark of life in his tone, something of the real Malik.

  “I can deal with that,” she replied bluntly. “What’s important right now is you and your family. This is about making things easier for you, Malik.”

  “Then stay there,” he said, and his honesty stole her breath. “I will be with my mother, and as merely a casual friend you cannot be here also. You will spend your time sitting in a hotel room, waiting. Please, stay there. I will call you. It will… give me comfort to know you are there, and not mired in the grief and depression here.”

  “But—”

  “Please, Dani. It hasn’t been that long since your grandmother passed. I don’t want you surrounded by all this again.”

  She shut her mouth. She could continue to argue, and perhaps she would even wear him down… but to what end? He was right; as just Ben’s friend, she wasn’t closely connected to the family and couldn’t impose on their time of grief. What good would she be doing Malik from a hotel room? If anything, she would just be a distraction to him when he needed to be focused on his family. Léo and Ben would be there, and Charles and Miryam and Gabriel and Celine. They loved him. They would take care of him.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “Whatever you want, okay? Just take care of yourself.”

  “I will,” he promised. “Text me, please? The way you always do.”

  That made her feel a little bit better, that he wanted to maintain contact with her. If he wanted “normal” texts, she could give them to him. She would be the bright spots in the midst of difficult days.

  “Of course,” she assured him. “I love you, Malik.”

  “And I you. I need to go. We are making the arrangements this evening. Goodbye.”

  She’d barely finished voicing her own farewell when the call disconnected, and she lowered the phone feeling… a little dazed.

  “Dani?”

  Turning her head, she met Ben’s tentative gaze.

  “Hey. Um, I’m not coming with you, so if you want to head off to the airport….”

  He came out onto the terrace, closely followed by Léo. “Why are you not coming?” Léo asked, sounding utterly bewildered, which made Dani feel better.

  She explained about Malik’s mother not knowing about their relationship and the limitations that would put on her presence. “Plus, I think he’s a little worried the funeral might upset me,” she added. “He said something about Gran, and not wanting me to be surrounded by grieving people.” Or at least, she thought that was what he’d meant.

  Léo was frowning, but Ben nodded. “Grief hits people in lots of different ways,” he said softly. “And we all cope with it differently. For Malik, it may be that what he needs most right now is to know that you’re safely here, protected from all the misery—his safe place to come home to, untouched by everything he’s going through.”

  It kind of made sense, but a part of Dani couldn’t help wondering if it just meant he didn’t need her. That she wasn’t important enough to him for him to want her there in times of strife.

  This is not about you, Danika, she told herself sternly as she followed Léo and Ben out of the apartment and into the elevator. It was okay—even normal—for her to feel a little discombobulated right now, but it was not okay for her to make Malik’s current emotional turmoil a drama in which she played the starring role. He was grieving. He was surrounded by family he wasn’t that close to, and he was in a mostly unfamiliar place. It was not up to her to judge the way he chose to cope with that.

  There was a chauffeured car waiting in front of the building to take Léo and Ben to Nice. “Get in, Dani,” Léo said. “We will drop you off on the way.”

  She forced herself to laugh. “Don’t be silly. It’s barely three blocks, and in the opposite direction from where you’re going. I’ll walk.”

  Léo looked like he wanted to argue, but Ben took his arm and pushed him toward the car. “You heard her. Let’s get moving.” The single raised eyebrow he got in response promised they’d be discussing it later, and then Léo bent and kissed her cheek, hugging her hard.

  “He will be okay,” he murmured to her. “I will call and let you know. Take care.”

  Sudden tears stung. “Thanks, Léo,” she replied gratefully, and then she was enveloped in a bear hug as her bestie wormed his way in. They stood there in a group hug for a long moment, and then Léo said dryly, “Before I met Ben, I would never have been caught dead hugging two people on a public street,” and she and Ben laughed as they disengaged.

  “It’s good for you to be normal sometimes,” Ben chided. Moments later, they were in the car and headed up the road. Dani watched them go and tried not to think about how much she wished she was with them, on her way to see Malik. Sighing, she turned and walked in the opposite direction, toward home.

  Home. How funny that she already thought of it that way, after such a short time. It truly proved the old adage that home was where the hea—

  Okay, that’s enough. It’s okay to worry. It’s okay to be a bit upset. But clichéd bullshit is just not gonna fly.

  She stopped and put her face in her hands. This was not her. She was not maudlin or a negative thinker. Moping around was not going to achieve anything.

  Dropping her hands, she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. She was giving herself until she got home to be a pathetic, emotional mess, and then she was getting on with it.

  Several hours later, Dani powered down her laptop with a feeling of accomplishment. The first thing she’d done upon getting home was to text Malik. He’d replied immediately with a smiley face and a heart, which had turned her forced cheer into something more natural. Then she’d gotten online and researched Muslim funeral customs, making a list of questions that she’d texted to Léo. The most stand-out fact she’d learned was that unlike what she was used to, in Islam funerals were held pretty much immediately—within twenty-four hours if at all possible, followed by three days of mourning for the family. Léo had confirmed that, telling her the funeral would be the next day.

  Next, she’d begun looking into heart disease. Pretty much all she knew was that it was bad and could be genetic, the thought of which freaked her out. Malik’s dad had been in his late sixties, which wasn’t exactly young, and nobody had said anything about him having heart problems, but still…. It took some research (and several texted questions to Ben) before her fears of losing Malik to a sudden heart attack lessened, but she still resolved to make an appointment for him to get a general checkup when he got back. In the meantime, she’d try to find out if there was a history of heart disease in the family, or if this had just been age-related.

  After that, she’d contacted a psychologist friend in Australia, catching her just before she left for work, and asked for any insight she might have on the situation. Dani was very much aware that while Malik had been at odds with his father his whole life, and basically not had him in his life growing up, losing a parent was still traumatic, and she wasn’t sure how to approach his grief. She didn’t think she should suddenly pretend the man had been father of the year, but neither did it seem right to refer to him disparagingly. Her friend told her to send an email with as much detail as possible and promised to look at it before Dani woke up the next morning.

  Finally, she’d methodically gone through and cleared Malik’s inbox and social media D
Ms. He hadn’t had anything planned for the rest of the week, not sure what mood he’d be in when he got back from the wedding—was that supposed to have been tomorrow?—and so she didn’t have to worry about clearing his calendar just yet. He did have an editing deadline coming up in a few weeks, but she could wait until next week to see if he wanted to talk to his editor about that.

  She set her alarm for nice and early so she could text Malik before things got too fraught, and then went to bed.

  It was all going to be okay.

  Chapter Twelve

  Malik sat with his head in his hands in the darkened room. It was the first moment he’d had to himself in… he couldn’t remember. Hours. Since before dinner. Before….

  He took a deep, shuddering breath. How could his father be dead? Surely he was too stubborn to die. Nobody had known there were any problems with his heart. He’d never said anything about pains, dizziness… nothing. How could this have happened?

  They’d just been arguing this morning. It had been another yelling match, not the first since Malik had arrived, despite his resolution to be on his best behavior and not let the old man get to him. Malik had finally stormed off, determined not to speak to his father again before his departure tomorrow.

  If only he’d known he would never speak to his father again.

  If only he’d known a week ago.

  A month ago.

  Last year.

  What would he have done differently? What could he have done to make things better between them? If he had conceded occasionally, maybe they wouldn’t have fought so much.

  If they hadn’t fought this morning, would things be different now?

  Malik struggled to push the thought aside. It was unproductive and could only cause him grief, he knew, but a tiny part of him couldn’t let it go.

  Stress causes heart attacks. What can be more stressful than a screaming fight with the son who disappoints you?

  Sighing again, he let his hands drop and sat there, staring into the dimness. He had to get his head together. Léo would be arriving soon, and his cousin knew him too well. He had to be prepared. He didn’t want to fight with Léo, but he suspected it would be inevitable. Maybe not right now, but when things began to settle and were supposed to go back to normal and his cousin realized he was firm in his decisions, then there would be a battle.

  It didn’t matter. He could deal with it. The important thing now was that he finally lived up to his responsibilities to his family—to his father. He was only sorry that it had taken his father’s death to make him realize it.

  Léo and Ben arrived a short time later, and as the car pulled up, Malik went out to meet them. His idiot brother had tried to argue earlier that they should not be coming, that their father had not wanted them there for the wedding and so they shouldn’t come for the funeral. His mother had shut that down quickly, sending the idiot off with his tail between his legs. He’d been lucky that all he’d gotten was a verbal rebuke—Malik had seen the looks on Charles’s and Gabriel’s faces, not to mention Celine’s.

  As his cousin, best friend, and confidant got out of the car, Malik felt something inside him relax. He and Léo were destined to have some rough times soon, but even so, he would always be able to rely on him. That brought him more comfort than a thousand other people could.

  He steadfastly refused to think about the one other person who would make him feel better right now, whose presence he longed for. The desire to hear Dani’s light voice saying, “Hey,” as she ran her fingers through his hair was almost a physical ache.

  He would need to get used to that.

  In the next moment, he was caught up in a hug so tight, he couldn’t breathe. That was okay. He just held on, hiding his face in Léo’s shoulder and letting the tears he’d been choking back sting his eyes. Just a few years ago, he and Léo would never have embraced like this. They’d been raised to believe that such displays of affection and emotion were unseemly.

  He was so glad that had changed.

  Even when they finally let go and stepped back and Malik became aware that his aunt, uncle, Gabriel, his brothers, brother-in-law, and one of his sisters had also come outside and were watching, he was still glad. That one hug from Léo had made a huge difference to his mental state.

  He reached out and drew Ben into a hug also, glad to see him even if their friendship was about to come under fire.

  “Are you okay?” Léo asked quietly, his dark eyes fixed on Malik’s face. Malik let go of Ben and nodded.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Although if you’d told me this was going to happen, I never would have believed it would hit me this hard.”

  “We’re here,” Ben assured him. “Just tell us what you need. Also, incoming.”

  It was all the warning he needed. He took a deep breath and turned to see his idiot brother-in-law bearing down on them, an ugly look on his face. Léo swore softly and stepped slightly in front of Ben, but Malik was already moving to intercept.

  “Is this what living in Europe has done? You’re a faggot now?” his brother-in-law demanded, and Malik felt his face go hard. At least the idiot had spoken in Arabic, so Ben couldn’t understand. Léo had, though, and he could feel his cousin’s fury at his back.

  “Don’t be any more of an idiot than you already are,” he hissed. The idiot opened his mouth to reply, but a shout from Khalid, their oldest brother—the only one with a brain—cut him off. They both turned as he came toward them, face like thunder.

  “You did not just insult your brother, your cousin, and our guest,” he said heatedly, and when the idiot made to respond, Khalid made a sharp sound that had his mouth closing again. “Your ignorant views and appalling rudeness aside, are you truly going to cause strife now? With Father dead and Mother grieving? Do you want to shatter her already broken heart into tinier pieces? Get inside and stay away from Malik and our guests until you can behave like an adult.” He turned his back on him and held out a hand to Léo. “Léonard, it’s good to see you.”

  Léo took his hand, his face an expressionless mask that Malik recognized. Léo had never liked to show anger. “It’s good to see you as well, Khalid. I’m only sorry about the circumstances. My deepest sympathies. Uncle will be missed.”

  Khalid accepted his condolences as the idiot snarled something under his breath and stormed toward the house, and then Khalid turned toward Ben, who hadn’t understood a word that had been said but was pale nonetheless, and offered his hand.

  “This is my partner, Ben Adams. Ben, Malik’s oldest brother, my cousin Khalid,” Léo said clearly in French.

  “Hello, Ben,” Khalid said, also in French, as Ben took his hand and shook it.

  “Hello. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Ben told him.

  “Thank you. Please come inside. Our mother will be glad to see you.” The words were ostensibly aimed at Léo, but his glance took in both of them, and Malik wondered briefly if there hadn’t been some dissension between his parents about inviting Léo and Ben to the wedding. He’d never known his mother to disagree with his father—not openly, anyway—but there was something about the way Khalid said it….

  As they headed toward the door, he shrugged it off. What did it matter now? His father was dead.

  Léo found him less than an hour later. Malik had managed to slip away during the greetings, sneaking off to the rooms that were kept for him despite the fact that he visited rarely, but Léo had obviously only stayed long enough to be respectful before making his excuses, because he barged in now without bothering to knock.

  “Please come in,” Malik said dryly from where he was seated at an ornate writing desk, trying to put together an email to his lawyer and pretending that his phone was right beside his hand because of coincidence, rather than a desperate wish for Dani to call or text.

  You could call her, an insidious voice whispered, but he blocked it out. He couldn’t. He needed to start distancing himself now, a little bit at a time. That way it wouldn’t be so diffic
ult.

  “I’ve never needed an invitation before,” Léo retorted, closing the door and coming to sit in one of the chairs by the window, just feet away from Malik. He turned away from the desk to face his cousin, his throat suddenly dry. He wasn’t stupid.

  He knew why Léo was there.

  Why Ben wasn’t.

  Léo knew something was going on—something more than just his father having died. And he wanted to give Malik the chance to reach out.

  Malik would. But he didn’t want to. Léo wasn’t going to be happy. Malik wasn’t happy. But this was the only real option.

  “Tell me the truth now, Malik. How are you?”

  The question opened a yawning abyss before him. There were so many possible answers.

  I’m shocked.

  I’m scared.

  I hurt.

  I’m relieved.

  I’m guilty.

  I hate myself.

  What could he say to make Léo understand the conflicting emotions roiling through him?

  “Of course you are grieving,” Léo said, seeming to choose his words carefully. “We are all grieving. But, and I say this with all possible respect, the fact of Uncle’s death does not change his life.”

  The words hung between them for a long moment.

  “I don’t think anyone would blame you for not feeling the depth of grief that perhaps Khalid does,” Léo continued softly. “Or if perhaps a part of you felt that this was a reprieve from the constant conflict. But you blame yourself for it.”

  Did anyone know him as well as Léo?

  Malik said nothing. He had no other option. The words were stuck behind the huge lump in his throat. He just stared at his cousin, desperately wishing he could avert his gaze, afraid of what Léo might be reading there.

  “I’m sorry that your relationship with your father was not better. I know you’ve always wanted it to be. I know it always hurt you that it wasn’t. And I’ve always hated him for not seeing how perfect you are. But I’ve also felt guilty for years, because part of me was glad he was like that, even though it hurt you, because it meant I got you. If we’d been raised in different countries, seeing each other only once or twice a year, my life would have been entirely different, and I’m not certain that would mean better. I—” Léo swallowed convulsively and looked away briefly while Malik’s brain struggled to process what he was feeling. “I don’t think I would have come out as young as I did without you. I-I feared telling my parents, my friends, even Gabriel—but not you. You were the only person that I knew, right down to my soul, would accept me without hesitation. So while I have always hated Uncle for how he treated you, some tiny part of me was glad, and I must beg your forgiveness for that. If—if I hadn’t been so selfish, perhaps our rebellions would have been less… overt, less provoking to Uncle, and he would have realized that he missed you.”