“Sure.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes, and the hum of the jet engines lulled me to sleep.
Chapter Four
Andre
Zahir looked adorable as he snored gently. No one could hear the noise, I suspected, except me.
The mountains had slowly given way to farm fields again, and we’d begun our descent. I firmly refused to remember that most accidents happened on takeoff and landing.
Except, duh, I just had.
Call Demetrius or not call Demetrius?What if he rejected me on the spot and I was stuck at the airport in Abbotsford? Just a bus ride to Mission City, but what did that matter? I hadn’t booked a room. I didn’t have an AirBNB account. I knew nothing of how things worked.I never should’ve left Toronto.Left the only home I’d ever known for the promise of family that was just that—a promise. Demetrius had offered nothing.
I pulled up the text chain.
—I look forward to meeting you.—
That had been his only reply. I had no idea where to go with that. What it meant. What he was trying to convey. I wasn’t always good at interpreting things in person—let alone in text. Mom used to try to convince me I had other talents—but I hadn’t believed her.
Before the seat belt light went on, I figured I should run to the bathroom. When I rose, though, Zahir awoke. He offered me a soft smile. “Good?”
I nodded. “I have to, uh, you know—”
“I know.” He undid his seat belt and rose. “I’ll go after you.”
After acknowledging that, I hustled to the bathroom, and holy crap, these were small. Like super tiny. Still, I made it back to my seat, was buckled in, and sipping my drink when Zahir returned.
The seat-belt light illuminated.
Zahir offered his hand.
I put the lid back on the bottle, stowed it, and took his hand. I met his gaze. “I’ll take you up on your offer of a room. I can’t pay much—”
“I’m not asking for anything, okay? It’s just an offer of a room. No obligation.”
“Everyone wants something.”
His eyes bored into me with an intensity I rarely experienced. Probably because I didn’t often stare people in their eyes. I was demonstrating a piece of equipment or watching someone’s technique. I only looked into their eyes when absolutely necessary. Most likely because I didn’t want them to see my truth.
“I don’t want anything.” Zahir squinted. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I want you safe. I’ve become invested in your well-being.”
“But why?”
He shrugged. “I’d like to think someone would do the same for me. Well, now I think about it, people have. My friend Quinton, his husband Leo, and many of their friends have embraced me. I’m a bit of anintrovert—I left the entertaining up to Marty. So many of our friends were really his friends. And those relationships didn’t run as deep as I’d thought. When he got sick—and subsequently died—many of them simply disappeared into the woodwork. I made new friends. People who know me as Zahir—Daphne’s dad.”
“Oh. Well, that’s sort of cute. And maybe a little sad.”
“Not sad. I’ve forged a new path. I’d do anything to have Marty with me. But since I can’t have that, I choose to make new friendships. It’s complicated, but Leo’s ex-husband has a dog, Lucky, who Quinton was looking after. I scooped the dog’s poop and Quinton and I became instant friends.”
“Just that simple.” I scrunched my nose. “Although I guess scooping someone else’s, uh—” I winced.
“Yep. It’s a bonding experience. Quinton’s mother was a nurse. When she retired, she rescued a little dachshund/bichon mix. That precious little one, Puff, gets on so well with my Daphne that Quinton insists my baby stay with them when I travel. Quinton will bring my baby girl over before he goes to work tonight.”
The flight attendant took her seat and strapped herself in.
“All smooth sailing.” Zahir smiled. “Or maybe smooth flying.”
