“I’ve never been unfaithful to you. And I’ve never lied to you. Or anyone else. Ever.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Julia told me you were upset to see Lizzie’s name on the guest list.”
I gritted my teeth. “If you tell me to calm down again, I swear I’ll get in this car and run you over. Probably more than once.”
“I didn’t mean to invite her, but I screwed up. I asked Sara Carr, one of the girls in our JMU group, to email the addresses for our group to my sister Siham. Sara was basically our social coordinator in college. She planned every trip we took. She had all of our addresses. I never expected her to include Lizzie on the list.”
“What are you saying?” I asked hopefully. “That you didn’t know Lizzie was invited?”
“I found out after the fact,afterthe invitations went out. Siham didn’t know about me and Lizzie, so she just added her to the guest list, no questions asked. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it.”
It was plausible that Siham didn’t know about Lizzie. As Muslims, none of us were supposed to date, guys included. But many young men did, and most people, including their own parents, looked the other way, expecting their sons to ultimately come back into the fold by settling down with a nice Muslim girl. For a man like Ali to be quiet, even to his family, about dating an American girl made perfect sense.
But that didn’t excuse the fact that Lizzie wasstillon the guest list.
“What exactly do you think there is to talk about?” I asked. “You should have picked up the phone, called Lizzie, and told her, ‘Um, you’re obviously not invited.’ It’s not rocket science.”
“Actually, I did. I mean, I tried to, but Lizzie went ballistic. She said that it would embarrass her in front of our friend group to be left off the guest list.”
“We wouldn’t want your poor girlfriend to be embarrassed,” I said acidly. “But hurting your future wife is OK, I guess.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” he said pointedly. “Look, there are about seven people I was really tight with in college. Lizzie and I were both in the group. We told everyone the breakup was mutual, that we’re still friends. Lizzie said if that’s true, she should be invited.”
I quelled an immediate urge to slap him. “Lizzie wants this. Lizzie feels bad about that. Maybe you need to step back and consider whether you’re still into Lizzie.”
“I’m not into her. In any way.”
“Really? But you’re so worried about her feelings. You know what I don’t hear from you? Any concern, at all, about whatIwant. HowIfeel.”
“All I care about is you.” His voice was tender. He stared into my eyes in that way that made my knees turn to jelly. “I absolutely planned to tell you, but I’ve been so jammed at work. I needed to finish up avery challenging and time-consuming engagement and then focus on this. I didn’t want to talk to you about it over the phone.”
“That’s a dumb excuse for such a smart man,” I snapped. “When did you plan to tell me? After the wedding?”
“I know I made a mistake. I already texted Lizzie that she can’t come. If it hurts her feelings or makes her lose face with our friends, she’ll have to deal with it. I don’t want us ever to have to talk about Lizzie again. I meant it when I said that she’s in the past.”
“Then why does her name keep popping up? I feel like I’m playing Old Girlfriend Whac-A-Mole.” My tone was sharp. But even as I spoke, I felt myself softening. Ali was calm, as always, but I detected the note of desperation, the panic in his voice.
“I have never been sorrier about anything in my life. I know I effed up. The last thing I want to do is make you question how I feel about you or whether you can trust me. I am truly very sorry. I’ll spend our entire honeymoon making it up to you.”
“Oh really?” My anger dissolved as I ate up his apology. “What will that entail?”
“Anything you can think of.” He leaned in. Slowly. Giving me time to push him away if I wanted.
But this desperate, almost-groveling version of Ali was crazy sexy. “I do like the sound of that.”
Relief etched his face. “You’re the only woman in the world who matters.” And that’s how he kissed me. Long and slow, deep and passionate, showing me what I meant to him with his mouth and tongue far more eloquently than words ever could.
I always thought the crazy chemistry between us was a lucky gift. But maybe it was a curse, because whenever Ali kissed me like that, with everything in him, I couldn’t imagine ever letting him go. I was addicted to the way I felt when he kissed me. Beautiful, powerful, capable of anything.
“I want to go down on you,” he said against my lips.
“That’ll be some honeymoon,” I responded, the blood rushing through my ears. My skin felt alive, every nerve ending titillated and eager for more.
“No.” He kissed me again slowly, seductively, using his tongue to do things that made me lose my mind. “Now.”
That wasn’t going to happen. What I had going on down there was no fantasy. I wasn’t groomed. I had an appointment for right before the wedding. “I just worked out. I can’t.”
