Murphy rode the escalator up to the second floor this time, knowing the flight was already cancelled, doing his best to calm his ragged nerves and prepare himself to see Shayma again. She’d refused to even look at him when she’d walked out of the hotel suite earlier. He hoped her anger had died down in the hours since.
He didn’t want to fight with her anymore. He just wanted to hold her and love her and spend the rest of his life with her, if she’d have him.
At the top of the escalator, he glanced around at the overhead signs then followed the arrows directing him to the Air Emirates gates ahead. More people packed the halls here, many of them sleeping on the floors or on cots provided by the airport. He checked their faces as he walked past to see if Shayma was among them, but didn’t find her.
Finally, he emerged out of the hallway and into a brightly lit concourse. Halfway down was the Air Emirates ticket counter where two agents appeared to be closing up shop for the night. He hurried over to them and asked if Shayma had been on their passenger list. When they refused to tell him, even with his military ID and fake story of a mission, he settled for describing her to them.
“She’s tall, nearly as tall as me, with long dark hair and pretty brown eyes. She was wearing a long, camel-colored coat and had a wheeled suitcase.” Even as he said it, he realized he was describing half the people in the airport. When the agents shrugged and started to walk away, his desperation grew. “Please. I’m in love with her and this could be my last chance to tell her. Please, help me.”
Begging was not in his nature, nor was asking for help, but here he was doing both to find the woman he loved. Seemed she brought out all those things in him, feelings he’d thought long dead or had tried hard to suppress—tenderness, yearning, vulnerability, need. The two female agents spoke in hushed tones in Arabic, giving him wary stares every so often, and his instincts told him they weren’t going to tell him anything. His shoulders slumped. This was it. He’d come all this way, his brain finally realizing what his heart had known from the first day he’d met her outside that fancy seafood restaurant when she’d prevented him from punching the EnKor CEO.
He loved Shayma bint Amr Kahlan. Loved her more than anything in this world.
And he’d do whatever was necessary to win her back. Give up his life, his career, his home in New York, if necessary.
One of the agents tapped him on the arm and cocked her head tow
ard the far end of the concourse. “You might want to try the VIP lounge, sir. She’d been sitting in there earlier.”
Stunned, he nodded then swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
“Good luck,” the other agent said.
“Thanks.”
Each step down the tiled walkway seemed like a thousand and time seemed to slow the nearer he got to the lounge. It was like in those horror movies or nightmares where you’re trying to get to the doorway, but it only seems to get farther and farther away. People jostled him as he walked, but Murphy hardly noticed, his attention focused like a laser on the frosted glass doors ahead. For years, he’d lived under the belief that he and Aileen were alone in the world, that they had each other as anchors and no one else, that he was happy with his life that way and nothing and no one would ever change it.
Then Shayma had appeared and now he couldn’t picture his life without her. Loving Shayma didn’t diminish his love or bond with Aileen at all, only strengthened it and him. Loving Shayma made him feel invincible, like he could solve any problem, conquer any foe, if only she was by his side. They’d find Aileen and bring her home safe. Together.
He hesitated with his hand on the door, the metal cool beneath his sweaty palm. Then he checked his reflection in the glass and straightened his uniform before taking a deep breath for courage.
At last, he entered the VIP lounge and found utter chaos. Not exactly the romantic scene he’d been hoping for. The place was packed with travelers, some sleeping on benches, some on the floor. Several clusters of small children were running willy-nilly through the crowds, playing tag while a waiter and a bartender tried to help corral them for their harried-looking parents. The air smelled of fried food and air freshener and Silent Night was playing, ironically, over the PA system.
Murphy stood inside the doors and scanned the area, finally spotting Shayma against the far wall, in front of the windows, at a tiny table for two. She was turned away from him, staring outside he presumed, so she hadn’t noticed him enter. Careful to avoid stepping on someone, he made his way over to her table and looked at her for a moment, all midnight curls and warm curves, before clearing his throat to gain her attention. “Is this seat taken?”
Shayma looked at him, surprise and hurt warring on her gorgeous features. She gave a small shake of her head then clasped her hands in her lap as he took the empty seat across from her.
“Bet you’re wondering why I’m here,” he said, his usual small talk deserting him under the importance of this moment.
“It had crossed my mind, yes,” she said, so quietly he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. “We said our goodbyes back at the hotel, Murphy.”
He lowered his head, taking the burden of fucking up what was between them upon himself, then casting it aside in favor of the future he wanted to have, with her. “We did, that’s true. But you see, I can’t do it.”
“Do what?” She hazarded a confused look up at him.
“Let you go.” He shifted in his seat, folding his hands atop the table as he leaned closer. “See, I thought I could. It’s what I’ve always done. Let people go. Everyone but my sister. For a long time, I thought that’s how it was meant to be, just me and Aileen. But then you came along and showed me a different way. Showed me I could love more than one person.”
She raised her head and met his gaze now, her dark eyes unreadable. “And do you?”
“Love you? Yep. Afraid so. It’s terminal too, from the feel of it. Has been since that first day I saw you outside that restaurant and you blocked me from my quarry, tossing those silly packages of yours everywhere.”
“Those were presents.”
“Whatever.” He leaned even closer and inhaled deep of her scent—cinnamon and spice and everything lovely and wonderful. “My point is, I love you Shayma bint Amr Kahlan and I don’t intend to ever lose you again. No matter what happens, no matter what your father thinks about me or our relationship, no matter what life throws our way. I love you. Now and forever. And I intend to spend the rest of my days proving that to you, if you’ll have me.”
For the first time since he’d met her, Shayma appeared speechless, and he had to laugh. She blinked at him several times and then smiled and soon she was laughing too. Other people in the crowded lounge turned to stare at them but Murphy didn’t care. It felt so good to let go and relax with her at last. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear and he seized the moment and took her hand, lacing their fingers together.
“I love you, Shayma.”