‘It’s fine.’
‘Do you have water for the flight?’
‘Mum,’ I reply warningly.
‘You’ll end up with cankles, darl. You’ve got to keep up your water intake. It said so on theThis Morningshow. Maybe you should’ve bought some of those flight socks.’
Kai’s eyes spark with delight and Geoff holds out his arm. For a moment, I think he wants to shake my hand, but as he tells my mum to stop fussing, he pulls me in for a quick hug.
‘I love my parents.’
‘I know that.’ Kai’s voice holds a note of compassion as he takes my carry-on bag from my hand.
‘I’m not tellingyou,’ I grumble. ‘I’m remindingmyself.’ As we walk away, I don’t look back. Despite not being Mum’s biggest fan, I hate to see her upset. ‘And I’m pretty sure I just heard Geoff tell Mum you’re atop bloke. It’s not bloody fair. Me? He wants to shake my hand, but you, he looks like he’s ready to throw his arms around you and make kissy-face.’
‘Too much facial hair for my tastes.’ With another laugh, he slides our passports across the check-in desk, lifting our bags to be weighed. For the first time I notice their disparity: mine’s a stripySportsgirltote, a bit battered around the edges and the handle’s a little frayed. Kai’s is leather, pristine, and expensive looking. A bit like himself.
‘Good evening, Mr. Khalfan, Miss Saunders.’
As the check-in chick opens our passports, she totally gives Kai the eye from under her synthetic lashes. When he smiles in return, I feel a flare of something unpleasant in the pit of my gut. And it isn’t gas. Am I irrationally jealous, or do I have reason to be a bit miffed? As I watch him, I decide it’s the first. He’s not playing games; he isn’t flirting. He’s just being courteous and sort of affable.While I’m being ridiculous.I remind myself that it pays to be nice to the check-in staff; no one wants to travel to Dubai but find their bags have gone on to Dublin, do they?
I’ve never really been the jealous type or the demanding shrew, but this man brings out all my insecurities. Though a person would have to be blind not to see why, and as he steps in just a little closer, I think they’d also have to have no sense of smell.He smells divine and sort of expensive. Clean and woodsy with just an edge of spice. And standing there in nothing fancier than a pair of dark jeans and a jacket, he still manages to look like he’s misplaced his photography crew. How come he always looks like he’s stepped out from the pages of a glossy magazine, while I look more like I’ve stumbled and slid in some poo?
Not for the first time, I begin to wonder what it is that he sees in me. I’ll admit to being passably pretty, sort of on the average side of the scale. A bit of a short arse, even in the heeled boots I’ve insisted on wearing, with a bit more flesh than I’d like. I’m all boobs and bum, and let’s face it, it’s not a fashionable look. And I have kind of funky hair. As a little girl, I’d once read somewhere that a woman’s hair is her crowning glory and I’d imagined I’d grow up to possess a coronet of curls. Not so, as it turns out, as more often than not my hair looks like a busted mattress, or something even the crows would avoid making their home.
My eyes aren’t the brilliant baby-blue I’d always longed for. Instead, they’re a greeny sort of blue.A bit like algae that grows in the pool over winter. And then I’m pale, when I’m not blushing, and when all’s said and done, a bit insignificant.
Kai’s deep and masculine laugh brings me out of my brooding, finding levity in somethingthebaggage bitchhas said. He’s all toothpaste smiles and gorgeous hair and I suddenly feel like crying, until he slips his hand around my waist.
‘We didn’t mind the rain on our honeymoon. We get enough heat in Dubai, don’t we, darling?
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, my smile watery.
He wants me and he loves me. My insecurities are all my own.
The lovely, smiley baggage lady tells us she’d love to visit Dubai. Kai recommends that she does as his hand releases my waist, his fingers threading through mine instead.
‘Mrs. Khalfan,’ he purrs. His eyes positively ignite as he stares down at me. ‘Shall we go home?’
Oh god, yes!
‘I should come late every flight.’
‘Why?’
‘I didn’t see any money change hands for those pricey excess baggage fees.’
‘You don’t think we’re travelling light?’
‘With all those dresses I bought? Probably no charges as we’re flying business class. You get extra, right?’
‘Darling.’ He feigns a shudder, his voice sounding pained. ‘Not business class.’
That can only mean... ‘First!’ I exclaim loudly as we step onto the escalator, adding more quietly, ‘we’re travelling first class?’
‘Don’t get too excited, at least not until I’ve had you in the jet. And I do mean that,’ he adds smoothly. ‘In every sense of the word.’
I stumble a little as the escalator ends.
