She shuffles over with a single red rose in her hand and offers it to me. “I know, dear. So get to it.”
With his arm around my shoulders, we stroll down Rue du Parc to the first restaurant we ever visited together. We have not been back since, and I am surprised when the maître d’ leads us to the same table with rose petals scattered over the table cloth.
“Someone planned ahead,” I tease.
Nomar’s dark eyes hold the same intensity that drew me to him the very first time we met. When I was terrified my son would die, that my husband would kill me, thatIwould never escape. But now, the emotion behind them is not fear. It is love. The kind of love that is so rare, when you find it, you doanythingto nurture it, to keep it safe. The kind of love that lasts a lifetime.
“There is nothing I won’t do for you, Lisette.” Nomar lays his hand, palm up, on the table, and waits for me to drape my fingers over his. Suddenly, he is uncertain. Worried, even. “We never talked about…what happens long term. For the first month, I stayed because you needed me. You were in so much pain, Mateen was having nightmares, we had to make sure no one from Raziq’s empire was left to ever come after you again. But now, every morning I wake up and wonder if this is the day you’ll decide you need space—space you have every right to—and you’ll ask me to leave.”
“Nomar!” I grasp his hand tightly so he cannot pull away. “I love you. Mateen loves you too. Why would I ever ask you to go?”
The relief in his eyes would break my heart if I were not so certain of his love for me.
“Because everything moved so fast. Especially for Mateen. I disappear for three years, he gets kidnapped, and then suddenly, I’m back again. Moving in. Playing house. Being…”
“A father.” The first tears burn my eyes, lending a shimmer to the candlelight flickering around us. “He loves you, Nomar. You are his hero.” A smile curves my lips. “Though I suspect he wishesyouwere the one with the ‘robot arm’ and not Uncle Griff.”
Nomar laughs, and the tension in his shoulders melts away. “I can’t believe Griff FaceTimed his visit to the prosthetic clinic in Bethesda.”
“Mateen talked about that for weeks.” I keep hold of Nomar’s hand. My sleeve rides up, the burn scars around my wrist still shiny. A flash of memory darkens the mood. The hot sun beating down on me. My hands blistered and bright red. But I blink it away. This is a time for happier things.
“He invited us to San Diego for Thanksgiving,” Nomar says, bringing me back to the present. “Austin and Mik will be there, and I think Leo and Domina are coming too.”
“That is…in a couple of weeks? American Thanksgiving always confuses me. It changes dates, yes?”
“Two weeks from Thursday. Mateen would have to miss a few days of school. Would his teachers be okay with that?”
I love that he always thinks of my son. In two short months, he has become a father, whether he believes it or not. “After what happened, they will understand. And Mateen is a good student. If he falls behind at all, we can find him a tutor over the holidays.”
“Okay. I’ll book the flights tomorrow,” he says. There is still a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and I tug his hand closer.
“Are we done discussing foolish things?”
“Foolish?”
“Yes. You leaving? You believing I would ever ask you to go? You doubting the family we have made together? You are mine, Nomar. And I am yours. That is all that matters.”
* * *
Nomar entersthe twelve-digit security code on the keypad, and the light blinks green. Only days after we arrived back in France, a small team of women showed up to install a state-of-the-art security system. Panic buttons in each room, cameras over every door and window, and remote monitoring capabilities.
It helped me feel safe when every noise frightened me. When I still worried I would wake up one day and Nomar would be gone. Or worse—that someone would come after my son once more.
But there has been no threat, and Mateen is at Philippe’s house for a sleep over. His first since he was taken. I have lunch with Amelie once a week, and Laurent—a month in the hospital—is even back to work.
Someone—Nomar would not tell me who, but I have my suspicions—paid all of their medical billsandarranged for counseling.
“Do you want a glass of wine?” he asks me once he has armed the system again.
“I want you.” His jacket lands on the floor as I run my hands down his arms. “This is our first night alone in…months. No one to hear us.”
“You mean hearyou.” He presses a kiss to the curve of my neck. “You aren’t quiet when you come, sweetheart. I should probably find someone to soundproof the bedroom walls…”
“Enough talking.” I cup the back of his neck and pull his head down so I can claim his mouth. Sucking his lower lip between my teeth, I bite down gently until his arousal strains his zipper.
He groans. His hips grind against me, and then his hands are in my hair. Taking control of the kiss in a way he knows I love. That Ineed.
We stagger together toward the stairs, still connected, desperate, as if we have been apart for months—even years—rather than the short hours of the workday.
