“Okay, that’s a point. But this is also coming from the guy who made his helicopter pilot just sit around while we f—” I noticed Olivia’s interested stare. “While we…played board games.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Olivia wiggled and let the nipple of the bottle go with a wet pop. I threw a kitchen towel over my shoulder and went to take her. Instead, when I leaned down, El-Mudad snagged the towel from my shoulder and flipped it over his own. He lifted Olivia with practiced ease and said, “I miss this, with my girls.”
“You got to be pretty involved with them when they were growing up?” I asked, taking a seat at the table.
He rubbed Olivia’s back as he considered. “As much as I would have liked to be? No. I was too young to realize that they were a blessing and not possessions.”
I frowned. El-Mudad was thirty-six. “Wait, how old are your kids?”
“Amal is fourteen, and Rashida is eleven.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I wasn’t a teenager, but I might as well have been. Bijou was the one who had to mature quickly when we had the girls.”
“Bijou was your wife?” He’d never mentioned her by name before.
“Yes. I met her in France, on a trip with my father. She was a waitress at a café.” He smiled fondly at the memory, but the fondness quickly turned to black humor. “I should have skipped the coffee that day.”
I shook my head. “No. Look at what you got out of it. I mean, my mom probably regretted sleeping with my father at that party. Objectively, you could say that I ruined her life. But she doesn’t see it that way.”
“You’re right—” Olivia’s loud burp interrupted him. He chuckled and drew his head back to look at his shoulder. “Ah, you hit the target. Very good.”
“Gross.” I did take her, this time, because after one good burp like that, she was ready for a post-bottle nap. “Usually, I would feed her solids.” I nodded toward the pot of mac and cheese. “But, once she’s had a bottle and a mighty belch, there’s a short window of time get her napping, and we definitely need to talk about why you’re here.”
“Yes, we do,” he agreed. “Go, I will wait for you.”
“You can wait in the living room. It’s way more comfortable in there,” I told him, and he got up and followed me.
After a quick diaper change and some gentle tunes from the light-up seahorse, Olivia was down for her nap. I found El-Mudad in the living room, one arm thrown along the back of the couch, his head tipped back, mouth open. Apparently, I’d put him to sleep, too.
Just as I was trying to decide whether or not to wake him, he snored and woke himself. He blinked at me.
“Sorry to disturb you,” I said, wincing internally. I was never going to be as cool and confident as he was, but very few people on Earth were.
“No, it’s fine. I didn’t come here to sleep on your couch.”
I went to him and sat on the other end, pulling my feet up beneath me. “So, I’m glad you’re here, but…why are you?”
“I’ve spoken to Neil. He contacted me from…Arbor Rest, I think it was?” Apology colored his words. He knew I hadn’t talked to Neil. But he had? I felt jealous and destroyed, all at once.
Was Neil leaving me for El-Mudad? He obviously loved him more than he loved me, if he couldn’t even talk to me on the phone, but he could contact our lover. I actually felt the wash of bitter acid that filled my stomach, and tasted it on the back of my tongue. A month. Neil had been gone for a month, and in all that time, he hadn’t spoken to me.
“He thought that news would hurt you. Please believe me, and him, when I tell you that he wants to see you. He is just unable to,” El-Mudad tried to reassure me.
“Why?” It was an unfair question to ask him. “Why can’t he see me, but he can see you?”
“He spoke to me on the phone,” El-Mudad clarified. “And he only called because he was concerned about you. He asked me to check in.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip. “Sorry. I’m just—”
“Defensive?” Emir smiled faintly. “He knew you would be.”
Great. Neil knew me well enough to gauge my emotions from the freaking past, but I didn’t know him well enough to know that he’d gone back to drugs and alcohol to cope with his daughter’s death. I hadn’t known he was suicidal.
“I am truly sorry that this has happened to the two of you,” El-Mudad said, reaching across the back of the couch to take my hand.
To the two of us. My heart ached at the truth of the statement, something which I hadn’t acknowledged. Neil was going through a rough time, and so was I, but we were in the same terrible situation together.
“I’m not mad at you,” I said, and just saying it made it true. “I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve been super lonely.”