His eyes are dark and mysterious, and he stares at me for a long moment. Then he seems to check himself and pats my cheek. “You’re a very good man, Reuben Langley.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do,” he says, the words plain and firm.
“Well, don’t tell anyone. I’ll never get my reputation back, and I’ve worked hard on it.”
He grins and turns back towards the patio doors. He opens them, and the scent of the lilac drifts into the room. It’s heady.The sky is dark, shot through with red and edged with black. “It’s going to be a stormy day,” I observe.
He smiles at me. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something. His eyes are full of a wild tenderness for a few seconds, and then he blinks, and it’s gone.
He steps onto the patio, and I shoot an uneasy glance next door, but someone would have to be actually standing on the patio to see us. Xavier offers me a wry smile that’s potently laced with all that charm of his, and I can’t help my next move. I grab his hand, spinning him back into me. He comes with his usual grace, and I bend, fitting my mouth to his. I take my time kissing him, and when I pull away, his lips are swollen and his eyes slumberous.
“You sure we can’t go back to bed?” he whispers.
“Positive. I’ll see you later.”
Unspoken is the knowledge that when I see him again, it will be to say goodbye. This is it. The end of our road. Despite my caution, I pull him in for another kiss. When we pull back, he looks up, his face suddenly mysterious in the stormy light. Then he pats my cheek, and he’s gone, vanishing around the corner of the hotel. I stare at the space where he was, my thoughts drifting between satisfaction at the night we had and a stomach-clenching pain that it was the last.
I won’t see him again. The knowledge that it’s the right thing doesn’t dull the stab of grief that I won’t hear his laugh again, the one that makes me feel dizzy and happy like I drank an entire bottle of champagne. It doesn’t staunch the sadness that I won’t be able to talk to him and wait eagerly for his opinion, which is always so different from everyone else’s. He’s like a cool wind on a hot day.
I go still as I become aware of eyes on me. It’s an instinct I’ve perfected over my years of work in war-torn countries. My gaze carefully travels to Jez’s hotel room, but the window is empty,staring blindly back at me. I look around uneasily, but there’s nothing. Just the sound of a bird singing in the bushes and the low moan of the wind.
I rub my hand over my neck again and then slowly walk back into my room.
chapter 13
. . .
Reuben
I’m checking my reflection in the mirror when my phone rings.
“Omid?” I say, answering the call.
“Reuben. Hello, my old friend.”
“Fine. How about you? It’s been ages since I last spoke to you.”
“Life passes quickly. Everything is good. Thank you for sorting Oxford out for me.”
I smile at the sound of his warm, accented voice. It brings back so many memories that they crowd my brain, jostling for position. “You make me sound like someone from the mafia. I was just at school with someone on the university vetting board. And how did Hila do?”
“She has a place.”
“That’s amazing. You’re a proud father, then?”
“I am always that. She is going to go far in life. Further than her father, that is for sure.”
“I don’t know about that. Afghanistan to Surrey is quite a journey.”
“More than you know, my friend, and I have you to thank for that.”
“No need for thanks,” I say awkwardly.
Omid was our interpreter on our prior jobs in Afghanistan. When he said he wanted to leave the country, we pulled some strings and got him and his family out, too.
“Ah, you always say that. I have memories of so many situations when you would grow so awkward at praise.” He laughs. “It was very much the opposite with Jez.”
