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When Malik’s knuckles rapped against the door, Birgitta was instantly pulled out of her daze. It was like a jolt of electricity had zapped through her body, making all of her hairs stand on end. She almost dropped her phone as she scrambled up out of her seat, desperate to answer the door.
Feeling like a lovesick teenager, she rushed through the kitchen with her arms outstretched, reaching out for the door. She couldn’t get it open quick enough; she wouldn’t feel satisfied until Malik’s face was in front of hers, his brown eyes shining in the yellow light in the hallway. Her fumbling fingers struggled to grab hold of the lock and twist it open and a slick layer of sweat coated her palms, making them slip off the handle.
When the door finally opened, sending a waft of cold air through Birgitta’s hair, she sighed with relief. Malik’s deep brown eyes were staring at her, looking up through his eyelashes. A black leather jacket was draped over one of his shoulders, held in place by his finger through the loop in the collar. He wore matching black jeans, contrasting starkly with his pristine white t-shirt.
“Malik,” Birgitta breathed.
“It’s good to see you again,” Malik said through the corner of his smirking mouth, “and so soon, too.”
Birgitta stepped away from the door, allowing it to open wide. “Please, come in.”
Malik stepped inside, his black boots thudding heavily against the wood floor. Birgitta watched him as he slipped them off with ease and closed the door behind him. Once his jacket was hung up on the hooks, Birgitta stepped into the middle of the kitchen with her hands clasped in front of her.
“Welcome to my home,” she said. “I’ll just go get my husband.”
“He’ll be joining us?” Malik said, a hint of disappointment in his voice as he stared around the kitchen. “What a shame.”
Birgitta didn’t know what to say back to that. Deep inside, she felt the same way although she would never admit it. She wanted to stay there and spend time with Malik, alone. She wanted her hands to roam along his large chest, finding their way into his black, curly hair.
No, she scolded herself.No. Go and get Kent before you do something stupid.
Without another word, she rushed upstairs and began calling for her husband. The sound of his name echoed off the walls as it traveled through the house. Finally, she heard him moving around in Julia’s old bedroom. Birgitta made her way to the top of the stairs just as Kent’s head poked out of the door.
“What is it?” He asked a line of dust streaked down his cheek.
“He’s here,” Birgitta said, making sure to keep her voice quiet.
For whatever reason, she felt uncomfortable letting Malik see her married life in close detail. She had a strange thought that if he saw how strained their relationship was, he would push harder to get under her skin.
Birgitta turned, about to head downstairs to Malik, but she stopped herself. With her hands resting on the wall, she looked up to her husband again.
“Your face is covered in dust,” she said, a hint of anger in her voice. “Clean yourself up before you come down, won’t you?”
Kent’s emotionless face just stared back at her, as if he were confused by what she’d said. She didn’t have the energy to pester him about it.
Back downstairs, Malik had made himself at home. Birgitta found him sitting at the table, flipping through that morning’s paper as he waited for them to come downstairs. When he heard the sound of Birgitta approaching, he looked up at her through his eyelashes again.
Birgitta felt the whole world stop when he looked at her. Everything started to shift sideways, the whole world tilting until she felt dizzy. Malik’s large, strong hands fell away from the paper, letting go of the thin sheets, and he leaned back into the chair. Birgitta hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until a long sighwhooshed out of her mouth.
“Is he not joining us?” Malik asked, a smile on the edges of his lips.
“He’s just cleaning up,” Birgitta said.
Trying to ignore the way he made her body turn hot with just a look, she crossed the room and opened the refrigerator. Now that her back was turned to him, she could close her eyes and focus on her breathing. If she didn’t get it under control soon, she was going to pass out.
“We’re having meatballs, potatoes, and some vegetables,” Birgitta said, trying to keep the conversation on safe topics. “Is that alright with you?”
“Free food is good food,” Malik said.
Birgitta couldn’t think straight enough to even find the right ingredients. She knew she needed meat and bags of vegetables from the freezer, but she couldn’t quite make her body do what she wanted. It felt like she was stuck in place with concrete packed over her feet and up to her ankles.
The sound of Kent’s footsteps on the stairs shocked Birgitta out of her daze enough to set her body into motion. She grabbed the meat out of the fridge and bent down to rummage through the freezer.
Keep it together,she thought.Just keep it together for tonight.
The next hour was incredibly uncomfortable. Not only did Birgitta want to throw Malik down in the middle of the table and have her way with him, but her husband kept engaging him in dangerous small-talk.
Birgitta listened, her chest heaving, as Kent asked Malik how they’d gotten back in contact. Malik was recounting the story in incredible detail, even down to the way Birgitta’s eyes drifted down his body. A large lump had started to grow in the depths of her throat, threatening to choke her.
