‘I’ve missed you too,’ I reply sincerely, after a beat. ‘But what on earth are you driving?’
‘It’s a Hummer,’ he reveals, his eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve always wanted to drive one of these! Do you like it?’
‘It’s a bit big,’ I reply, unimpressed, and he laughs at my reaction. His good mood is contagious and I finally lean back in contentment. As always, his presence is comforting and I feel safe with him; safe in the knowledge that he’ll not only protect me but he’ll always put my needs first. Given my recent experience, this isn’t something to take lightly.
Am I being a complete idiot for not instantly choosing Hamza? As we fall into easy conversation, I’m beginning to think that I am. I’m also very aware that, contrary to Sabina’s advice, I need to tell him what happened with Adam .?.?. and when I do, there’s a chance that he won’t want me anymore.
We exit the monstrous highway Sabs lives next to and we’re now driving down a smaller road – which still has three lanes on either side, by the way.
‘How do you know your way around?’ I ask in awe as he smoothly takes another exit until we’re close to the beach and all the gorgeous five-star resorts along the shoreline. ‘I would never be able to drive here.’
‘I come here for work a lot. And I lived here for a year after uni.’
‘What? You never told me that.’ I look at him in surprise. I had no idea that stable, responsible Hamza had this adventurous side to him. OK, it’s hardly backpacking through Cambodia, but it’s not like I’m the camping-in-the-wilderness-peeing-in-a-bush type, anyway.
‘Didn’t I? Well, it’s no biggie. I have an uncle who lives here so I stayed with him. It was a pretty crazy time of my life. I’ve always wanted to live here again in the future, for a couple of years or so.’
‘Wow, really?’
‘Yeah. You up for the challenge?’
I look at his profile as he continues to drive, one hand on the steering wheel and one hand casually draped along my head rest and I begin to think to myself that maybe a lifetime of adventure with Hamza wouldn’t be so bad after all.
We pull up at a luxury hotel where the valet attendant hurries to open my door before taking the keys from Hamza. If I lived here I’d become such a lazy prima donna.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask Hamza as we walk through the plush hotel with its ornate marble interior and traditional Arabic accents, until we’re at the back of the resort by the pool area.
‘You’ll see,’ he replies loftily, slipping his hand into mine. I take it, but I’m attacked by another stab of guilt. I open my mouth to blurt it all out to Hamza, but when I turn to face him, he looks so happy that I close it again. I can’t ruin this night for him.
‘By the way, I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful,’ he says shyly as we continue to walk through the exquisitely landscaped grounds, hand in hand.
‘Thanks,’ I respond, his nerves rubbing off on me. ‘You look nice too.’ And he does, in his tailored shirt and trousers. In fact, this whole night is transpiring to be super-romantic, not at all what I expected when he dropped that he was here in Dubai. It’s difficult for me to enjoy the romance, though, when guilt is simmering beneath the surface.
‘Where are we?’ I ask, but he doesn’t reply, just smiles and leads me along the pier which is gently illuminated by lanterns. We’re quite a distance from the shore now and coming up to what looks like a small, intimate restaurant in the middle of the Arabian Gulf, black waves dancing beneath us.
The rest of the evening is equally as spectacular. We have a delicious dinner whilst listening to the waves crash against the pier. Hamza is sweet and attentive as always, but also cracks jokes every so often so the mood isn’t too intense; it’s comfortable but also romantic, and so different from the night out with Adam. Adam is exciting, dangerous, unpredictable. Hamza is sweet, funny, stable. But obviously, the major difference is that the latter actually wants to be with me. For now. There are a couple of moments when the conversation halts and I know I can use the opportunity to tell Hamza what happened. But I don’t. I don’t want to ruin a night that he’s obviously put a lot of thought into. In fact, it’s beginning to feel like he flew all the way out here just to see me, not for work as he claimed. Sabina told me the other day that the power balance in a relationship is never completely equal; there’s always one person who loves the other more, wants the other more. It’s pretty obvious that in this scenario, it’s Hamza, but if I’m being completely honest, the sensation of being wanted this badly is pretty intoxicating.
After dinner we start walking back to the main hotel, stopping midway to stare out into the sea again. It’s so calm out here, away from the city lights, the traffic, the noise. I close my eyes and breathe in the salty air, enjoying the sensation of the sea breeze brushing against my skin. It’s the calmest I’ve felt all week and I wonder if it’s because of where I am or who I’m with.
As we stand there in silence, Hamza turns to me and draws me in for a hug. I snuggle up to his chest, my eyes still closed, inhaling the scent of his aftershave. With his arms firmly around me, I feel protected and safe and I know that if Hamza and I got married, I would never feel as alone and as let down as I have felt this week. Yeah, there’ll be other problems, but what is a bit of sex appeal compared to a lifetime of easy companionship?
‘Zara?’ he whispers into my hair, still holding me tight.
‘Hmm?’ I keep my cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. He smells good, like cinnamon and the sea.
‘I don’t want this moment to end.’
‘Me neither.’ And I don’t. Wrapped in his warm, comforting embrace, I feel like I’m home.
‘I don’t want anything between us to end,’ he continues to murmur, his breath tickling the nape of my neck. ‘Ever. I know you’re still not 100 per cent sure about me but I’ve never been surer about anything. I want you, all of you; your complicated mind, your kind heart, your generous soul. I even want your crazy temper.’
I swallow nervously, my pulse racing, my stomach somersaulting.
‘You sure about that?’ I try to joke, the tremble in my voice betraying how I really feel.
‘Will you please do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
‘What?’ I try to pull away from him but he refuses to let go and I’m stuck here, in his unrelenting embrace. I try again and this time he lets me, his eyes full of fear as we stare at each other.