“What was her name?”
He frowned. “What difference does it make? That’s not important.”
“If she’s important enough for you to bring up, it’s important enough for me to know her name.” So much for being easygoing.
“Her name is Lizzie.”
“Lizzie what?”
“Lizzie Martins. Why?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to stalk her.” But I was riled up. “Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to know about Lizzie Martins?”
“I dated her on and off for a few years.”
A fewyears. Jealousy scoured my insides. “Did you want to marry her?”
He shook his head. “I was always straight with her. She understood that my parents would never accept me marrying someone who wasn’t Muslim. Still, I felt”—he struggled to find the word—“an obligation to her.”
“Why?”
He looked away. “She’s had some hardship in her life, and I didn’t want to hurt her if I could avoid it.”
“Did you love her?”
“I think it’s more accurate to say that I cared about her.”
“What does that mean?” I struggled not to sound shrill. “Does that make me the girl you’re settling for since you can’t be with your one true love?”
“No. Being with you is most definitely not settling.” He looked straight into my eyes. “I think you know that.”
Suddenly, I felt very much like what I was—a twenty-one-year-old who’d never dated before. I was out of my depth. “Did you break up with her?”
“I did.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth. She knew I had to explore the possibility of marrying within my culture. I’m my parents’ only son, and I owe them that. But I don’t think she expected me to find you. She assumed I’d go back to her.”
“She knows about me?” I frowned. “You’re still in touch?”
“You’re the reason I broke up with her.”
I felt sick. Surely I wasn’t getting this right. “You were with that girlwhileyou’ve been seeing me?”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “We were taking time apart while I explored this. I’ve been completely honest and up-front with Lizzie. I tried to make a clean break months ago, but she resisted. Last week, I told her it was definitely over between me and her. I don’t need more time to explore.”
Of course, I couldn’t help asking. “Why not?”
“Because I met you. I can see a future with you.”
Later, when I told Lulu, her face twisted with disgust. “It’s gross how he’s stringing that girl along.”
“He told her he was seeing me. They were taking time apart.”
She shook her head. “Like I said, gross.”
Lulu wasn’t like me. I could see a lot of gray in situations, but my sister was more black and white. She had very definite ideas about how things should be. She thought the rules for Arab girls were stupid, so she didn’t follow them. Lulu snuck out all the time, and I knew she’d kissed more than one boy. She got married a lot later than I did. Lulu was almost thirty by the time she met Khalid at a club.
