“And that’s not all.” His eyes are smiling when he looks at me, then he returns to the food and lifts the lids, one by one. “Fries, burgers, southern fried Chicken, cheesecake. American delicacies, just for you.”
My stomach gives a low rumble of appreciation. “I thought you weren’t tolerant of my American food love?”
“I’m trying to compromise,” he says gently. “Where I am able.”
And clarity sharpens inside of me. He’s trying. He wants this marriage to work. There’s good here. He sees value in me – not just as a Hassan but as a person. But he will never, ever change his opinion on my father.
This is the new deal he is trying to strike tonight. Not like the first deal we made, a contract with terms and requirements, this is far more subtle, and more plausible. I stare at the food, the sense that I’m about to agree to something that will forever wound my father impossible to ignore.
But what else can I do?
I’m married to Zahir. He’s my husband. I made my bed, and now I have to work out how to lie in it, with this man at my side for as long as we both shall live.
15
Amy
“IT’S BETTER THAN I thought.”
I can’t help laughing. He’s eaten three serves of Macaroni Cheese, two cheeseburgers, a piece of cheesecake and just reached for the bag of Hershey’s Kisses.
“You think?” I tease, reaching across and wiping an imaginary crumb from the side of his mouth. It’s like being struck with a lightning bolt. I withdraw quickly, looking down at my own plate.
He catches my hand though, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss against my inner-wrist. My pulse flutters; I can’t meet his eyes.
“I might have misjudged it,” he agrees quietly, but his eyes are probing mine and I feel a galloping in the region of my heart, a double entendre in the words he’s spoken.
“I think you might have.”
He pulls a Hershey’s Kiss from the bag, passing it to me. “Kiss?”
My pulse accelerates. “Always.”
He leans closer, his intoxicatingly masculine fragrance hitting my nostrils so my eyes close on a flutter of surrender. His lips are gentle when they meet mine, exploring, reading, listening. My lips part, my breath escaping on a sigh, my body immediately recognising its master, its wishes obvious.
Everything we’ve argued about seems so distant now. Academically I understand the reasons for our differences, the essential conflict that will always reside between us, but there are times where it’s almost impossible to feel it. There are times when I feel as though I was made to be here, with him, at his side, in his arms, together. Forever.
I groan, the thought weakening me even as I recognise its inevitability and truth.
He pulls away and a second later presses a chocolate button to my lips. I open my eyes to find him watching me, a smile on his face that makes my heart twist.
“Did you choose these?” I ask, when I’ve finished the confectionary.
“The sweet?”
I nod.
“Yes. They’re the only American junk food I’ve heard of.” He wrinkles his nose. “Movies.”
I laugh. “Really? You watch movies with Hershey’s Kisses?”
“Not intentionally.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Do you like them?”
“Oh, yeah.” I nod. “They were my mom’s favourite. When we first…moved…to America, it was really tough.”