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“Then why am I sleeping alone? Why aren’t you cuddling next to me?” Liam says, pulling me to him.
“My darling. I recognize that so much has happened in your life recently, and these last two weeks have been laden with so much darkness. You never have to be strong for me. If you ever feel sad or blue or vulnerable, it is okay to tell me that, too.”
“Why do you like to see me cry . . . that was so touching . . . that is so sweet, my darling. Thank you for loving me.”
"Good afternoon, my lovely," Liam murmurs as a soft clink of cutlery against porcelain drifts towards me. I pry open my eyes to find a tray laden with breakfast dishes beside the bed—croissants, fresh fruit, and a steaming mug of coffee.
"Did you make all this?" My voice is heavy with sleep and surprise.
"Guilty as charged." He grins, propping up pillows behind me.
"Feels like I should be wearing a crown with this kind of service," I tease, taking a sip of the coffee.
“Mmmmmm. Just how I like it: strong with a touch of cream.”
"Only the best for my queen," he says, watching me with eyes that light up like the Zurich skyline at dusk.
I can't help but smile, breaking off a piece of croissant and feeding it to him. "You're making it very hard to leave this bed today. Aren’t we going to do anything else but sleep and eat?"
"What else is there to do on this planet that is better than this?" He leans in, lips brushing mine in a kiss that tastes like buttery pastry and lazy afternoons.
“Fight world hunger, Eradicate malaria or AIDS. Bring peace to the Middle East?”
“Not while you are still here.” He laughs as I continue to feed him my croissant, and we share a cup of coffee.
Chapter forty-one
REDISCOVERING LIAM PT 2.
TONY
The light from the setting sun spills across the den, casting a warm glow on Liam's face as he turns to face me, his eyes alight with passion for an object other than me . . . I am jealous. "Can you imagine it, Tony?" His hands sketch out shapes in the air as if painting a picture only he can see. "Solar panels, stretching like fields of gold, powering homes that had never known electricity."
I drop a chaste kiss on his lips fleetingly, then crane my neck over his shoulder to see what he is working on. He just told me about this dream of his in great detail yesterday, and I must say, I found it too grand to wrap my head around it in the abstract. I need a visual to be able to see what he sees in his mind’s eyes.
I see it now, laid out on his computer screen . . . patches of photovoltaic petals on a landscape of solar transformers.
I tilt my head in wonder, absorbing the gravity of his vision. "Spectacular," I breathe, “But I still don’t see where the conflictis with diamonds, which is your father’s trade. Why does he have a problem with your project? It doesn’t cut into his profits . . . at least I don’t see how.”
A shadow falls over Liam’s face as a frown creases his brow, and his face yells more anger than irritation. "He doesn't like how I've framed the project—calling it reparations for resources raped from Africa and the African people . . . Diamonds, even oil."
"Ahhhhh," I exhale softly, understanding finally dawning on me. "You hit a nerve."
"Exactly!" Liam's hand slams against his thigh as if intentionally intending to cause pain. "We took their natural resources and made ourselves rich, and they got nothing out of it. In any other setting, that would be called stealing, and in this case, it is stealing by the big bad wolf simply because we could, because we are mightier and have the means to do it.”
“It was wrong in the past; it is still wrong now. I understand that these African nations might not have had the means and resources to withdraw the natural resources from the ground, and in some cases, their resources were essential to the world economy and stability, but we didn’t have to rob them. It could have been a partnership. We owe them T, don't we?"
"Sure," I reply, turning him gently to face his computer again, then hug his shoulders tight as I lay my head next to his. "You are absolutely right, my darling, but no one enjoys looking in a mirror at their misdeeds."
Liam’s idea is noble and benevolent. The idea of helping the less fortunate can have an intoxicating and exhilarating sense of purpose. I have one of my own, and I choose to share it with him.
"Speaking of helping," I start slowly, my heart racing at the thought of sharing my own dream, "I've always wanted to help girls in rural Africa, too."
"Do tell," Liam encourages, leaning his head even closer to mine as if it is looking for a cuddle.
"Reusable sanitary pads," I say, the words tumbling out with newfound confidence. "Affordable, locally available in every village and every school, and eco-friendly. Plastering them everywhere and easily accessible, so those girls don't fall behind just because of their biology."
I feel a strong pair of arms encircle my waist and pull me onto his lap, Liam's eyes now soft and full of admiration. "That's incredible, Tony. Even when you were little, I could see the philanthropist in you. This here. . . this. What is happening here? This is what I saw in you . . . this is what drew me to you. We are so alike. I love your vision. It is one that can bring great changes and dignity to a whole swathe of people; why limit it to just girls? I say, broaden it to cover all women of menstrual age . . . go big, or go home, I say.”
