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“We both do it, put our initials on it, and the bridge takes care of the rest.”
She nodded and wrote “JW” on one side and watched as Bahan put on his initials on the other. He then locked the padlock in place, whispered something under his breath in Arabic, and tossed the key in the river below.
Jennifer frowned up at him, staring into those amber eyes that always managed to confuse her and throw her completely off-balance. It was like falling through quicksand, being slowly taken under no matter how much she struggled against it.
“What did you say?”
“It’s probably silly…too sentimental.”
“No, tell me. I think this whole tradition is nothing if not sentimental, but isn’t that the point? We’re both hoping, taking that leap like thousands of other people on the bridge before us. I think there are definitely worse ways to be sentimental and cheesy.”
“It’s a simple prayer, one that my father taught me. It’s for guidance from Allah and Mohammad both, to have the wisdom to see all my plans through.”
Reaching out, she stroked his face, loving the way the scruff of his goatee felt against the palm of her hand. The soft prickles that were driving
her wild. That hint of turmeric was in the air again, and she could stay like this with the man forever, basking in his kindness and his hope.
“Am I a plan too?”
“Do you want to be?”
She sighed and leaned against the locks as well, moving her back around until none of the locks were digging into her spine. “My parents are divorced.”
“I’m aware of that. I figured there was a reason I only saw Carol around, and you mentioned your dad and how he left…about the money being so tight.”
“Yes. I guess it’s better they were married and divorced than it was some common law thing, not that it’s not uncommon in Kentucky.”
“Fair point, but families that can’t stay together are common everywhere, even in Yemen.”
“Your parents didn’t have that problem.”
He shrugged. “They’re a good match, somehow. I don’t understand yet how. My mother is so strict and intense, and my father, despite his role, is very much invested in the more noble things in life. But they do complement each other. Of course,” he said, grinning down at her, even as he took her hand in his own, “it helps if there’s the pressure of a whole nation on you to stay together. I’m sorry that your father couldn’t take his responsibilities seriously.”
“I just feel like you have to be independent. Mom…she believed in love and all it led to was being stuck with two daughters, one very sick, and then scrabbling with two or three jobs. Now I can send home money, I can help, but…”
“I understand,” he said, and he squeezed her hand.
Jennifer marveled at how big his hand was, how it swamped her own. Blushing, she remembered the lovemaking they’d shared on the plane. Considering the size of his manhood, maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised about his hands. After all, wasn’t there an old expression about size along those lines? Still, he was so large and comforting and safe, but she knew better than anyone how much of an illusion that could be. As much as it pained her to keep opening up about her parents’ disastrous marriage, to lay out how crushing it was for all three of them, she couldn’t talk about Dustin and how she’d personally been stomped on by a lover before.
Some days she tried to just think of him as a mistake of a boyfriend, but the louse had been far more than that and he’d crushed her anyway.
“Do you?”
“Yes. For the longest time, I just loved to have fun. I don’t want to sound shallow.”
“Oh please, go on. Would this be about all the women you’ve known?” she said, winking back at him and hoping he understood her wry tone.
Both of them had a past. It was just that Bahan’s was far more colorful. After all, he was royalty and fabulously wealthy. He could have any woman he wanted and often had. Yet, it had to mean something, damn it, that he’d chosen her now. She clung to that as hope kept blooming in her heart.
“I’ve been young.”
“If I Googled the big tabloids for November, that would still be part of your misspent youth,” she pointed out.
“Does that worry you?”
“No.”
Not much.
