The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(24)

I nodded, and then, keeping his eyes on the swirl of brown-flecked green of his ice cream, he spoke again.

“Before…what I was saying about my relationship history. When I was 16 or so—I fell in love.”

He waved his spoon about and smiled, although it was a bitter smile.

“It was the typical teen romance; we were inseparable. I thought we were meant to be. She had a secretive side, but I always assumed she was shy and liked keeping part of her life personal. As time went on, I ignored the signs. The absences she wouldn’t explain, the silences that made me uneasy.

“And then, one day, she was gone. Just up and left. My father later told me that her family had pushed her into an arranged marriage with a man on the other side of the country. The girl, Tatiana, couldn’t bear to say goodbye to me—so she didn’t. She’d known for months.”

Now, Rashid was no longer eating his ice cream, only stirring it round and round.

“That broke me. That she hadn’t told me, that she had just left without a word, without—” His voice broke. “After that, my heart closed up, and I thought it would stay that way forever. I went from woman to woman without any expectations, and I got as much as I had expected. We had brief, shallow dalliances. We talked about politics, fashion, current events. We were careful not to mention feelings.

“And I was happy that way for a while. The creeping feelings of loneliness came later. These past few years, these same, safe types of relationships had me feeling emptier than ever before. Nothing seemed to matter; it seemed better to be alone. And then…well. Anyway. Your turn.”

By now, his ice cream was a liquid paste, while mine was almost finished. I took the last spoonful, swallowed, then caught his gaze. It was intense. Now was the time to spill my guts, as I’d said I would, weeks ago. It was only fair. And, now that I knew him better, I felt he deserved it—I felt I could trust him.

“Well, I guess you know the most embarrassing part already. When we were growing up, Nadia always lorded over me. For everything—toys, attention, and later, boys. It didn’t matter if I liked a boy, or even if he liked me; Nadia took over. Always. She’d cite some excuse, like he’d asked her out or he wasn’t a good guy anyway, but I knew the truth. And I let her.

“I suppose I was afraid. I’d rather lose whatever I might have had with the boy than upset Nadia and have to suffer her wrath. I was shy, so school was the only place I could really meet boys. And then I got older and older, graduated high school and got away from Nadia, but not really. She was always there, whispering in my ear, inside my head, telling me that any new guy wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t want to deal with the pressure of being my first.

“And so, I wouldn’t tell them. I’d distance myself until they ended things. Then, my mom got sick, I dropped out of school, and all I had time for was to work and wish my life was different. I guess I was just afraid. Of the embarrassment, the shame. Of being hurt.”

Now, Rashid had taken both my hands and was looking at me with an emotion I hadn’t seen in him before.

“I was, too. I never wanted to experience pain anything like that again. I never wanted to be vulnerable again. And I never thought I’d feel close to someone ever again.”

In his eyes was what was unsaid, the intent joy in that steady gaze.

“Rashid…” I murmured.

He took my chin in his hands.

“And then I met you, Lacie Wright.”

“Rashid… I…”

He held a finger to my lips.

“Shh…you don’t have to say anything. Just you being here is enough. So that I can tell you that, every day, I’m growing surer of how I feel for you. That this—us—may be something great. Something special. Something real.”

I gazed into his eyes and didn’t say anything because I was overwhelmed and terrified, and I didn’t need to. The look that passed between us said enough.

The rest of the drive to the city was one long, easy chat. It felt like I had known Rashid for my whole life, or at least half of it. There was none of the long, drawn-out filtering of what to say that I usually employed for whomever else I was with, no. My thoughts were immediately converted into words, which Rashid was charmed by, laughed with, delighted in.

It was as if everything I said or did was perfect, as if I could make no mistakes. As if this, all of this, was meant to be.

We reached the little restaurant just as dusk was settling over the small village.

“You’ll see,” Rashid said. “This place is my father’s favorite. The owner is an old friend.”

And, indeed, the little man with the faded bow tie was sent into a delighted flurry at the sight of Rashid. He raced off to the back, then returned with a horrified expression.

“Rashid, my Sheikh, I’m afraid I have some terrible news.”





Chapter Eighteen





Rashid




The man’s chubby, sweet face broke into an ecstatic grin. “We are prepared to serve you a seven-course meal!”

And then, before we could protest, he was gone, while a waiter was ushering us to a private table at the back. There, we were served fresh pineapple juice and assured that our first course was on its way. Lacie’s radiant smile looked as happy as I felt.