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I’m married to Zahir. He’s my husband. I made my bed, and now I have to work out how to lie in it, with this man at my side for as long as we both shall live.
Chapter 15
Amy
“IT’S BETTER THAN I thought.”
I can’t help laughing. He’s eaten three serves of Macaroni Cheese, two cheeseburgers, a piece of cheesecake and just reached for the bag of Hershey’s Kisses.
“You think?” I tease, reaching across and wiping an imaginary crumb from the side of his mouth. It’s like being struck with a lightning bolt. I withdraw quickly, looking down at my own plate.
He catches my hand though, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss against my inner-wrist. My pulse flutters; I can’t meet his eyes.
“I might have misjudged it,” he agrees quietly, but his eyes are probing mine and I feel a galloping in the region of my heart, a double entendre in the words he’s spoken.
“I think you might have.”
He pulls a Hershey’s Kiss from the bag, passing it to me. “Kiss?”
My pulse accelerates. “Always.”
He leans closer, his intoxicatingly masculine fragrance hitting my nostrils so my eyes close on a flutter of surrender. His lips are gentle when they meet mine, exploring, reading, listening. My lips part, my breath escaping on a sigh, my body immediately recognising its master, its wishes obvious.
Everything we’ve argued about seems so distant now. Academically I understand the reasons for our differences, the essential conflict that will always reside between us, but there are times where it’s almost impossible to feel it. There are times when I feel as though I was made to be here, with him, at his side, in his arms, together. Forever.
I groan, the thought weakening me even as I recognise its inevitability and truth.
He pulls away and a second later presses a chocolate button to my lips. I open my eyes to find him watching me, a smile on his face that makes my heart twist.
“Did you choose these?” I ask, when I’ve finished the confectionary.
“The sweet?”
I nod.
“Yes. They’re the only American junk food I’ve heard of.” He wrinkles his nose. “Movies.”
I laugh. “Really? You watch movies with Hershey’s Kisses?”
“Not intentionally.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Do you like them?”
“Oh, yeah.” I nod. “They were my mom’s favourite. When we first…moved…to America, it was really tough.”
His eyes narrow, watching me thoughtfully.
“I’m sure you didn’t think about that. The knock-on effects of his exile, and how your decisions would affect me. You probably didn’t even know he had a daughter,” I add with a tight grimace.
“I knew about you,” he says quietly.
I frown, trying not to let it bother me, trying not to be hurt that he still chose a course of action that would hurt me.
“Anyway,” I brush that particular thread of conversation away. “I struggled. I didn’t speak English, didn’t know anyone besides Mom’s family, I didn’t fit in. School was miserable. So every day, mom would hide one of these in my bag with a little note. I loved it. Believe me, it’s no exaggeration to say these got me through some tough times.”
“She sounds very thoughtful.”
