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“I’m in your country,” she reminded him softly. “And as you’ve pointed out, your word is law. If you force me to stay married to you—,”
His curse filled the air. “No.”
She stopped talking, staring at him, face pale.
“I’m not going to force you to remain,” he muttered, striding towards the door and standing completely still, like an ancient soldier.
She expelled a breath, telling herself it was relief she felt, not agony.
“I would never do that,” he added darkly. “I was out of line in the desert. I didn’t—,” he frowned. “I haven’t—,” his eyes sought hers, and she had the sense he was forcing himself to hold back whatever it was he wanted to say. And that was the problem. There’d always be barriers between them. Zafar could never really open up to her. He could never be vulnerable to her, because others had ruined him. Her heart hurt for him, but now it was time to protect her own heart and future, and that of their child.
“I want us to be friends,” she said with an attempt at a smile. “For the sake of our child, I think we should try to find something good out of all of this.”
His eyes swept shut, thick, dark lashes forming fans against his swarthy skin.
“Friends,” he repeated a moment later, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed.
“The sex between us has always been great, but what I’ve missed most about you was our conversations,” she whispered, turning away from him. “Those nights where we stayed up talking until our eyes were too heavy, when we would laugh until it hurt. There’s something here, Zafar. We can hold onto that. We can convince our baby that they come from two people who have common ground.”
“Yes.” His admission was a beat too late. He was making the concessions she wanted, so why did it feel so awful?
“Good,” she forced herself to say, trying another smile, even though her back was to him. This smile was to convince herself. “I won’t leave straight away.” Her voice was wooden, the words she’s rehearsed in private sounding all kinds of wrong now. But she pushed on, regardless. “The first few weeks will probably be difficult, and having your staff to lean on will be helpful.”
Another long pause, and then, his voice had an odd quality. “You will have staff at your apartment.”
But she wouldn’t have him. A lump formed in her throat, and she had to wait to speak. “That’s true.” Uncertainty gripped her. “Once the baby’s born, I’ll move out.”
It was everything she’d wanted when she’d entered this marriage, but now the plan was like a noose she couldn’t escape.
* * *
Millie wasasleep when he entered their apartment, much later that night. It was the first time in a long time he’d been back here, and for a moment, memories rushed him like a wall, so he had to pause just inside the bedroom door, as ghosts of their time together moved over him in waves. From that deliriously happy summer four and a half years earlier to their marriage, he was surrounded by their experiences and he groaned, low and soft, because he wanted to peel back time and step into those memories, to fix everything before he could break it.
If he had any doubts left about what he needed to do, they shook from his mind.
Prowling to the side of the bed, he hovered there a moment, indecisive, wanting to wake her, wanting to watch her, but aware how little right he had to do either.
He’d come to her so full of determination, and he hadn’t expected this.
The conversation he’d been mulling over all afternoon would need to wait until morning—but it would be the longest night of his life.
“Zafar?”She was groggy, some time around five, when she got up to pee. Her bladder had grown tinier and tinier as the baby had gotten bigger and bigger, so waking several times a night was Millie’s new norm. She supposed it was good practice for all those sleepless nights parents of newborns spoke about. “What are you doing here?”
Across the room, in an armchair, her husband stirred.
“Hi.”
She frowned. “Um, hi. I—,” she blinked, wondering if she was dreaming. But, no. He stayed right there, in all his handsome, reclined glory. “What are you doing here?”
His lips twisted to the side. “I could point out that this is my bedroom, but we both know that would be a cop out.”
She tilted her head in silent agreement. “You’ve been away so long.”
“Yes.” His fingers tightened on the edges of the armchair and then he stood, his strength and power taking her breath away, as the dawn light filtered through the open window behind him.
“So why—,”
“I needed to see you.”
