Breakfast is being served from one of the restaurants bordering the courtyard. Tiled tables with padded chairs sit along the pillared walkway, nestled among towering palms and lush bougainvillea, birds darting between the leaves. A ginger cat wanders between the chairs, pausing to have his ears scratched by one person, then another.
The young woman was right about it being busy, and most of the tables are full. My plan is to take one and wait until Zara shows up, then ask her to have breakfast with me. No strings, just a meal together.
I walk between the tables, scanning the occupants discreetly. There’s a table for two free against the wall, next to a tiled water fountain set into the plaster, a remnant of the palace that was once here. I figure it’s as good a place as any to wait.
Then I see her.
Zara is sitting at a table between two pillars, surrounded by palms, a shaft of sunlight highlighting her hair so it’s as glossy as a chestnut. She’s wearing the black skirt and embroidered blouse she wore the day we went to see the rug trader in Taghazout, her sandalled feet crossed at the ankles. There’s a cup of coffee in front of her, and she’s reading.
I grin when I see the book she’s reading, my heart warming at the sight of her calm beauty. She feels like home, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to go and sit with her. But I pause. It may feel that way to me, but how will it feel to her?
But then, as though she can feel me watching, she lifts her head. Her brown gaze meets mine and her lips part, slightly. She blinks, then closes her book, putting it on the table. Her movements are calm, deliberate, but there’s tension in her shoulders.
“Myles? Do you need me?”
Yes, I fucking need you. I need you like I need oxygen, like I need the blood in my veins.Once again the intensity of my feelings surprises me, my heart seeming to swell in my chest.
“I don’t want to intrude.” Then I stop, not sure how to proceed. I can’t bear it if she rejects me again. She has turned my world upside down, and I am adrift.
“Have you eaten?” Her voice is soft, but there’s a tremor in it. “I was just about to get something, if you’d like to join me?”
“That sounds nice,” I say, coming to the table and taking a seat. My words are sensible, in no way a reflection of the turmoil inside me, or the way she makes me feel as though she’s my lifeline, as though I’m tied to her, my island of safety in a vast sea.
We stare at each other, then my gaze goes to the book on the table. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading,” I say. “I’d hate to stop you learning more about the stock market.”
She giggles, the dimple appearing in her cheek. “Well, yes,” she says. “It’s fascinating stuff. Especially the bit about international trading. But I suppose I can come back to it later.”
“If you’re sure.” I return her smile, feeling as though I could sit here for ever and watch the light play across her face. God, I have never felt such yearning for another person. She’s across the table from me but I can’t touch her, as though she’s behind glass. I want to smash through it and take her, make her my own. “So, shall we order?” I need to do something, say something, before I give in to my impulses.
She gets to her feet. “It’s a buffet.” She sounds uncertain, her voice rising at the end. Of course, I hadn’t realised. Diners are coming in and out of the long French doors, some of them carrying plates piled high with food.
“I’ll come with you,” I say. “The Prince’s Kisscan hold the table for us.”
“He’s very good at that.”
I notice she’s keeping space between us, moving away whenever I get close to her. It’s a subtle thing but, attuned to her as I am, I notice it. It’s as though we’re in a dance, each of us in our own space, apart even though we’re together.
Still, it’s better than it was. I wonder whether she’s had a chance to figure anything out yet. Christ knows I haven’t, apart from the fact that I want her.
It will have to do, for now.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Zara
Istill have to resign.
But the morning has brought me clarity, and I’ve been able to see things in a different light.
It was incredibly inappropriate of me to act the way I did with my boss. But there were two of us in the equation, and he seemed to be just as into it as I was. I know we crossed a line, but I’m not going to pursue anything legal-wise, of course I’m not. I’m not that kind of person. I’m just going to resign and move on with my life. I have my savings, and a dream of a place by the sea, so I’ll find another job and plan my escape from London, and Morocco will remain a shimmering memory.
I’m also not going to spend the remainder of my time here being upset about what happened. My heart might hurt at the thought of having to leave Myles, but it will heal. At least, I keep telling myself that. Otherwise, I’ll just spend the next two days lying on my bed crying.
I take this new, sensible version of myself down to breakfast, bringing my book to keep me company. I remind myself how lucky I am, and how no one needs to ever know what happened here, as I read my book and sip my coffee, trying to ignore the pit of pain in my stomach.
Then I feel eyes on me, and look up.
And my carefully built facade crumbles into nothing.
