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Had he expected her to stay celibate? For him?
Of course he hadn’t. But the idea of her having moved on so quickly filled Syed with revulsion and outrage. And determination, too.
He opened various cupboards, and finally, found them in the small spot above the microwave. He pulled two bowls out, marvelling how, for a brief period of his life, this domesticity had been normal.
When she hadn’t known who he was, and he had needed, simply, her.
He placed the bowls beside the microwave, bracing his hands for a moment.
He was taking a gamble.
A huge risk.
One that might not pay off.
His father would never approach this with anything other than disapproval. Did he care?
His eyes landed on a couple of envelopes, stuffed between the microwave, one with an angry red side. With curiosity that a man like Syed would never see as intrusive or wrong, he lifted the envelope from its place and slit the side. The bill inside was a third reminder. Cessation of Service Notice. His frown was understandable. He reached for the next envelope along. It was an overdue notice. The next a bill. And then, a payslip.
He skimmed the amount earned by Sarah and a plan began to form. A way to make her see what they were to each other, even now, five years after he’d made the biggest mistake of his life and walked out on the woman who’d meant so much to him.
*
Had she delayed purposefully? Knowing that each moment made it more likely Syed would have left?
Undoubtedly.
And yet, the second she stepped back into the lounge, and saw him standing at the table, arranging bowls in a row, she felt no surprise.
She did, however, experience renewed impatience and disbelief.
She wrapped her arms around her midsection and stared across at him.
All the fight was gone out of her.
Now, she was simply tired.
Exhausted.
“I told you to go.”
He lifted a glance at her, and her body trembled. Awareness was an electric current bursting through the room.
As it had always been between them.
From the first moment he’d appeared in the bar, like a fish out of water, all elegant tailored suit and understated class. He’d slammed his expensive European car’s keys down on the bar and asked to use the phone. “There is no cell coverage in this… town. Where am I?”
She’d laughed, because she hadn’t known who he was, only that he was handsome as hell and obviously out of sorts. “Iron Oaks; gateway to the South. Can’t you tell?” She had looked down at her plaid shirt and denim cut-offs, her grin contagious.
And when he’d inspected her clothes, per her instructions, his eyes lingering on the generous swell of her too-big breasts, the nipped in waist and rounded bottom, the electricity had arced in a way she’d never known possible. Sarah had sworn she’d been burned.
She hadn’t.
That part came later.
“We have not spoken, yet.”
The smell of dinner assailed her nostrils and her stomach squeezed hopefully, though thankfully not audibly. “God, Syed. What the hell do you want to talk about? Five years is a really long time. This … this … booty call is as offensive as it is unwanted.” She tilted her chin, staring at him through slatted eyes.
