Chapter Sixty-Seven
‘You’re very quiet.’
Kai pulls the Range Rover back onto the highway. He hasn’t spoken a word since we left Mum’s driveway. He looks... pensive. It’s disconcerting. ‘Meeting my mum must’ve put you off. You know what they say,every wife turns into the mother-in-law eventually.’
‘Your mother is very nice.’
‘My mother is a pain in my butt. Come on, what gives?’
Kai’s hand suddenly snakes over the centre console. ‘Sorry, sweetheart. Lots to think about.’ Like I said, disconcerting. ‘I’ve got a couple of places to be this afternoon. Quite important. I was just trying to figure out a schedule.’
‘Appointments?’ I repeat, a little unnecessarily. ‘You’ve got work to do while you’re here?’ Immediately, I’m reminded of Shane’s arrival in Dubai, his trying to convince me he travelled all that way for me, when really, he was on his way to a conference. Please don’t let this be the same.
‘If only.’ His shoulders move once in some semblance of a laugh. An ironic laugh? ‘Appointments of a personal nature. I’m going to meet with your father—’
‘Stepfather,’ I correct.
‘The only father you’ve ever known,’ he asserts in a cautionary tone. ‘Yourmahramall the same.’
‘My m-what-ham?’
‘Mahram. Your male guardian. The person I need to speak with regards to marriage.’
‘Sort of to ask for my hand?’
‘Yes, like that. We might need to find you awali,too,’ he says, sort of distractedly.
‘A wally? I can save you some time. You’re going to meet Geoff. He’s a total wally.’
‘Are you saying your stepfather is an idiot?’ God, he looks so serious!
‘No,’ I reply, sighing loudly. ‘Not literally. He’s just not very nice. To me. Generally.’
‘Then that was a little unkind.’
My expression twists. ‘Just wait. We’ll see what you think after you’ve met him. Anyway, what’s a wally when it’s at home. To you, I mean.’
‘Wali,’ he corrects. The way he says it does sound a little different. Taking back his hand, he slows the car at a set of traffic lights. But, sheesh, potato, potatoe? ‘Is the person who’ll represent you at our wedding ceremony.’
‘Am I getting married by proxy?’
‘Coffee?’
‘Sure, because we haven’t had enough hot beverages this morning. I thought at one point Mum was going to tip the teapot into your crotch.’
He flinches as he turns right, following signs to the beach.
‘But it’s raining.’ Rain and my hair isn’t happening. Not if I can help it. ‘We’ll get drenched.’
‘I’ll just grab us a couple for the car.’
With that, he pulls up alongside a little milk-bar-come-beach-shack place.
‘Yes,’ I grumble as he loosens his belt. ‘Because our last beachside conversation wentsowell.’
‘Of course it did,’ he says, his sensual mouth curving into a smile. ‘You agreed to be my wife.’
It’s muggy inside the car, the heat from our coffees steaming up the windows, not that the effect is spoiling the view or anything. Dark clouds have obscured the sun, making it seem as though daylight has vanished as torrential rain beats against the windows, distorting our view of the ocean and the outside world.
