“Of course,” he says, continuing to shuffle through stuff on his desk. So he’s avoiding conversation with me now. I begin to peruse through his books. He’s got a number of classics, mixed in with a bunch of modern novels.
“Have you read all of these?” I ask.
He looks up. “Most of them,” he replies.
I see a couple that look interesting. “Do you mind if I borrow one or two?”
He stops shuffling and leans back in his chair with a smile on his face. “Zaira, this is your home. That means everything in it belongs to you as much as it belongs to me. If you want to read one of the books on that shelf, you don’t have to ask.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.”
I grabWuthering Heightsand read the back cover. Yes, definitely this one. Something about a brooding man who wants something so bad but won’t take it sounds delicious. Oh wait, it sounds like someone else I know. I giggle to myself and sit on Michael’s couch and begin to read.
About a half hour later, Ricco returns. “We’re ready, boss,” he says when he enters the office.
“Good. Zaira, you ready?” he asks as he stands. He fixes his tie and walks to the door, then waits for me to join him. When we walk out of his office, he places his hand at the small of my back. There’s something so simple about this gesture, something that says “you’re mine.” I find it comforting as we walk to the Q5 parked out front.
***
My arm is not broken. I have to say I am very thankful. I really didn’t want to wear a cast. Dr. Siegel did say I have a deep internal bruise, and it will take some time to heal. He gave me some rather potent painkillers to help me sleep, which seems to be the times it bothers me the most.
The Q5 pulls up to the front of the house, and Michael opens his door. “You stay put. I’ll get the door,” he says and gets out of the car. He comes around to my side and opens my door for me. After taking my right hand, he helps me from the car. As we walk toward the house, he says, “Can I get you anything?”
I look at him curiously. “Oh, goodness. I’m fine, Michael. I don’t need anything.”
“Are you hungry? We missed lunch, and it’s a little early for dinner. I can have Dina prepare something for you.”
“Would you join me?” I ask, hopeful.
He hesitates for a minute and then says, “You know, I am kinda hungry myself.”
“Wonderful!” I exclaim, then teasingly say, “Perhaps we can spend some time together without it turning into some type of repressed sexual confrontation.”
He smirks but doesn’t grace my comment with a response. Instead he says, “Why don’t you head out to the veranda. I’ll go talk to Dina and see what she can do. Since it’s such a nice day, we can eat outside.”
“Sounds lovely,” I reply.
I head for the back patio—or veranda as they call it. It overlooks the lake. The sun is bright, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The view is breathtaking, and I decide I need to spend more time out here. This house is so huge, I’m sure there are places I have not even seen yet, and I always seem to gravitate to the pool.
I sit on the patio sectional, kick off my shoes, and curl my legs up under me. There is just enough breeze out to be pleasant without it being cumbersome or chilly.
A few minutes pass, and Michael comes to sit on the sofa with me. He holds his arm up, and instinctively I curl up next to him. This is not normal behavior for him, and I’m wondering if he has had a change of heart about his feelings toward me. I decide to enjoy the moment. If I bring it up, we’ll end up in another argument, and I like snuggling with him much better.
“Dina is whipping up a couple of sandwiches, is that okay?” he says.
“It’s perfect,” I reply as I snuggle closer.
A few minutes later, Dina comes out with a tray. She not only made us sandwiches, but there are chips, pasta salad, and two lemonades. “I hope this is all right,” she says, then she teases. “Michael didn’t give me much notice.”
“Dina, you are the last person who needs notice to whip up something spectacular,” Michael says, and we both sit up. “What’s there is perfect, doll, thanks!”
“Zaira, can I get you anything else?” she asks.
“Oh no, Dina. Like Michael said, the food is perfect. Thank you.” She turns to leave, and Michael and I get up and walk to the table. After taking my plate, I return to the couch and Michael joins me.
“Yum.” I hum. “This is so good. Whoever thought a sandwich would taste so good?”
“You must have been hungry,” Michael replies.
