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Was?He frowned. Was he not angry now?
Confused, he pushed the thought away. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I know you don’t like getting dressed up, so thank you.’
He felt the back of his neck tingle as her eyes found his. ‘I was worried I’d be overdressed, but—’
They both glanced across the room at the guests in their jewel-coloured robes and glittering gold accessories.
‘Looks like you have one less thing to worry about,’ he said softly. Their eyes met again. ‘Now you just have to get shot of your monumentally arrogant and selfish husband.’
She blinked. ‘You weren’t always arrogant and selfish.’
The air around them seemed to snap to attention. He stared at her, not moving a muscle, scared to move. ‘Do you mean that?’ There was a note in his voice he didn’t quite recognise.
The pulse in her throat jerked against her pale skin.
‘Sorry I took so long.’
He swore silently as Jalila returned. ‘Fahad was showing him off to the aunties, but he needs to go to sleep now, otherwise he’ll be up all night—only I wanted you to meet him first.’
Omar’s heart twitched as she held out the baby.
‘Khalid, this is your uncle Omar. Omar, this is your nephew.’
He settled the baby in the crook of his arm and gazed down into his huge brown eyes. ‘He’s beautiful, Lila.’ Throat tightening, he thumbed a feathery dark curl away from Khalid’s doeskin cheek and kissed his forehead. Tiny, beautiful, and mesmerizingly perfect.
‘Yes, he is. Actually, he reminds me of you.’ Jalila bit her lip. ‘Baba thinks so too. He even got Auntie Maryam to find a photo of you at the same age.’
Batting away the twist of pleasure her words produced, Omar said quickly, ‘How old is he now?’
‘Six weeks. Talking of photos—yes, please. My son and my brother.’
It was the photographer. As the camera flashed, Omar caught a glimpse of Delphi’s face. She looked like a deer in the headlights, all huge panicky eyes and jerky pulse.
‘That’s enough.’ He dispatched the photographer with a jerk of his head.
‘Oh, goodie.’
A waiter had materialised at his shoulder and Jalila leaned forward and snatched up a glass of orange juice.
‘He’s so hungry it makes me thirsty all the time. Would you like one, Delphi? Or you can have champagne. Honestly, nobody will mind.’
‘No. No, thank you.’
Delphi’s voice, or rather the brittle keep-away-from-me edge to it, jolted him out of his baby-fixated trance and he looked up in surprise. She’d seemed to be getting on with Jalila so well.
But his sister hadn’t registered the change. ‘It’s no trouble, really. Let me—’
‘I said no.’ Delphi’s voice rose and snapped like a sail in the wind. ‘I don’t want champagne. I don’t want a drink. I just need some air.’
She stumbled backwards. Behind her, a magician made a dove appear out of a scrunched-up handkerchief with a theatrical flourish. Distracted, Omar glanced over and felt his body tense. Inside his head a thought, a possibility, was starting to take shape...hazy at first, then growing clearer.
‘Delphi.’ He reached for her but was hampered by the baby. And, swerving his outstretched hand, she sidestepped past him.
Jalila’s dark eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I’m sorry...’ A flush was creeping over her cheeks.
‘It’s fine. She’s still upset from the accident. Here, take Khalid.’ Heart hammering, he handed the baby to his sister. ‘It’ll be okay.’
‘She looked so pale.’
