Page 88

His gaze held mine until Raff stirred and grunted in his sleep.

‘Bedtime for our champ,’ Deacon murmured. ‘After I tuck him in, it’ll be your turn.’

He lifted our son and carried him upstairs.

I rested my head against the couch and drew a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

The sound of his bare feet whispering across the floor made me sit up.

‘Ready?’

His raspy voice sent a shiver through me.

He bent, gathered me into his arms, carried me to my ground-floor guest suite, and helped me into the bathroom.

I brushed my teeth, then he supported me as I hopped onto the bed. He handed me my long sleep T-shirt and gown so I could change after he left.

As he did, our eyes met, and a raw yearning surged through me.

The words escaped before I could stop them.

‘I wish…’

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

Deacon pressed a finger to my lips, silencing my confession.

‘Wishes are…’ he murmured.

‘…for fools.’

With a wink, Deacon bent and kissed the corner of each eye.

He lingered for a fraction of a second, his gaze dropping to my mouth before he stepped back with a crooked smile.

He gave me a two-fingered salute as he slipped out of the bedroom.

‘Wishes are for fools in love,’ I whispered to the dark room as I dressed.

Then I curled up in bed and fell into a deep sleep.

The next week unfolded in a sun-drenched rhythm of slow mornings, lazy breakfasts, and long lunches on the terrace.

Every evening after dinner, Deacon brought out his saxophone and serenaded the night with smooth, evocative jazz solos that drifted over the water.

I slept deeply each night, and my well-fed, rejuvenated body began to heal.

To speed my recovery, Deacon assumed the role of my physical therapist.

Each afternoon, he carried me into the villa’s gym, where he followed the exercise regimen my physicians at Nairobi Hospital had prescribed.

Deacon was a relentless taskmaster, working my injured leg through brutal sets of mobility stretches without taking shortcuts.

‘Straighten the knee, Ana,’ he instructed one time, his calloused thumbs massaging my calf. ‘Don’t cheat the rotation.’

‘You’re a sadist, Vega,’ I grunted.

He winked.