Chapter Twenty-Three
NOAH
I f Amira asks about her dress one more time, I might be inclined to punch her father in the face. I wouldn’t, but the temptation is growing stronger each time she glances over to him and folds into herself.
After the never-ending speeches, dinner is finally served. As it turns out, I’m in line for the beef dish anyway.
“We can still swap?” Amira asks, lifting her plate slightly. “I feel bad for eating your roll.”
My stomach protested the whole time she was eating the tiny portion of carbs, but it was worth it. Like I told her, I ate lunch. And before moving in with Amira I had a bad habit of eating dinner late anyway. Plus, I know what she can be like when she is hangry, and with everything else she has going on tonight, that’s the last thing we need to add to the list.
“Don’t feel bad. This steak looks delicious.” The medallion has been cut from a larger portion, cooked to the perfect shade of pink and topped with a mushroom gravy I can’t wait to stir into the side of mashed potatoes. Amira’s chicken looks equally decadent, with crispy skin and a creamy sauce over roast vegetables. The meals are bigger than those we typically serve at the restaurant, but I dig out my phone to take some photos for the chef. We’re always looking for new ways to incorporate local produce, and although she might not copy these exactly, I’m hoping the pictures are helpful in our next brainstorming session.
The table wasn’t exactly bursting with conversation while we waited for our meals, but we fall silent now. My food is as good as it looks, and from the soft sounds of Amira’s moans, I’m guessing the chicken is too. Her plate is almost empty when I put down my cutlery after taking my last bite. As I reach across the table to fill our wine glasses a firm hand lands on my shoulder and a burly body squeezes between Amira and me.
“Back again then?” Amira’s father does his best to tower over me. And to his credit he does, but only because I’m sitting down. The man isn’t necessarily short, but he isn’t tall either. His stout frame stretches the buttons of his pale blue dress shirt.
“Mr Solak.” I paint on my cheesiest smile, removing my napkin from my lap and pushing my chair back. I stand intentionally slowly, forcing him to step back and look up at me. I’ve never been as glad for my height as I am now. “It’s lovely to see you again.”
He huffs in response, turning away from me to glare down at Amira. “Your mother told me about your … living arrangement.” Glancing up at me, he scowls when he returns his gaze to Amira as he finishes his sentence. “We need to discuss this. Privately.”
Amira shrinks into herself. She drops her cutlery onto her plate and reaches behind her shoulders to pull the grey scarf around her. Once it’s secured in one hand, she downs the whole glass of wine I just poured her. I’ll have to remind her wine is meant to be savoured, but now is not the time and if she needs the liquid courage, I’m not going to stop her. Stepping in front of her father, I reach my hand out to help her up. Once she is standing, I turn her to face me and tug at the ends of the scarf.
“You don’t need it,” I whisper.
The heat of her father’s stare burns the side of my face, but I ignore him. Amira’s nod is so slight I might have missed it if I blinked. But she holds my hands tightly as we take the scarf off together. I tuck it over my elbow, then wrap my arm around her waist as we turn to her father. Leaning down, I kiss her temple and whisper in her ear. “You lead?”
Again, she nods, this time straightening her shoulders as she looks to her father.
“Sorry we didn’t get to you before dinner.” Her voice is chirpy and bright but strained. Not at all the soft honey I’ve grown used to.
“Hmm well, it seems priorities change,” Mr Solak grunts. The two thick lines between his brows seem to deepen. “Although, I should be thankful you didn’t try to bring a woman again.”
My ears begin to throb and heat. Against Amira’s waist my hand clenches into a fist. Fuck , he really is terrible. I swallow my pride, knowing if ever there was a time to make a scene, it’s definitely not now.
“I’m thankful she chose to bring me too,” I say instead.
Amira shivers underneath my arm, I pull her closer to me, but she follows her chill with a soft shimmy of her shoulders and steps forward.
“The thing is, Baba ,” she chokes a little on the word before continuing, “if I was dating a woman again, I would never introduce you to her. I learnt that lesson a long time ago.”
I try not to think that her words mean she wants to date a woman again. Try not to think about how I don’t want her dating anyone else, ever again. I want her all to myself, but I know the thought of forever is overwhelming for her.
She stands a little taller as her father balks down at her. He blinks rapidly, processing her comment, and his mouth falls open as he stumbles for words. His eyes track down to Amira’s bare shoulders, then to my hand on her waist, before jumping back up to her face. Taking a step forward he towers over her, and I move closer as my protective instinct kicks in.
Clearing his throat Mr Solak lowers his voice to address his daughter. “Amira your dress is—”
“Beautiful.” I cut him off, uninterested in what he has to say but also to protect Amira from hearing the words she’s been dreading all day.
“Well yes, but it would be better if—”
“It would be better if it was white.” I can’t help myself, and I instantly want to take the words back for fear Amira will understand what I mean and be terrified by the idea of herself in a wedding dress. She doesn’t react, but I tap my finger against her hip in a silent apology all the same.
Mr Solak reels in shock, doing his best to glare down his nose at me. In the end, he just looks taken aback and honestly, a little pathetic. I pull Amira a little closer, and the air seems to whoosh from her lungs.
“Do you have anything nice to say?” she asks.
Everything about her demeanour has turned timid again, and I fucking hate he caused that. I hate that for every tiny step she gains the courage to take, he’s there, ready to tear her back down.
Finally, he steps back, crossing his arms over his chest. I tuck my free hand into my pocket but stay close to Amira.
He clears his throat again and tips on his heels. “It would be … so kind … if you were to come and meet someone. His father is like a brother to me, and I think you would get along. You certainly have more in common than you and … Noah here.” Although he waves his hand in my direction, he keeps his grumpy eyes locked on Amira. “But bring that scarf, please. Some things should be kept for more intimate moments.”
“This wouldn’t happen to be the ‘fine young man’ from Kaya’s wedding, would it?” Amira holds up her hands to make quotes around the words. When her father nods in response, she huffs in frustration.
“If you cared to find out, you’d learn Noah is more than fine . He is a perfect gentleman, and I’ve never felt as special as I do when I’m with him. And besides, we have plenty in common. He makes wine, and I drink it.” Her hand falls to mine and she squeezes my wrist before peeling away from my hold. “Speaking of, our glasses are empty. I’m going to get a refill.”
She turns her back on her father, grabbing our wine glasses from the table to storm off towards the bar. And a little like a lost puppy, I watch her go.
I’m about to chase after her, to remind her I’m driving so I shouldn’t have another glass and just to be with her , when Mr Solak coughs into his hand. Swallowing down the anger that’s closing in on my throat, I turn my head to him.
“She should be with a man who shares her heritage. Family is important.”
“ Amira is important. How can you expect her to value family, when it’s her family who makes her feel like she can’t be herself?” I pull together every morsel of self-control I have to keep my voice low and my stance neutral. I will not start a fight with her father. I cannot start a fight with her father.
I suspect he’s only a handful more shitty moments before Amira decides to cut him off for good, but I can’t make that decision for her.
“And can she truly be herself with you? A man?”
He went there . My hands ball into fists by my sides, but I know I can’t react.
“I trust that she cares for me. I trust she knows herself enough to know who she wants to be with. A man or a woman.”
“Do you, though? If you really trusted her, why are you not married?”
“Because I haven’t asked her yet.” Half of the truth falls out so easily, but I snap my mouth shut before I slip up. I’d marry Amira in a heartbeat, but I know she isn’t anywhere near ready for that. I know she might not ever be. And that’s okay with me. I’ll gladly take whatever she will give me, and I hope it’s forever. I don’t need a certificate on paper to share my life with her.
Mr Solak’s stance softens, and so does his voice. “Is she happy with you?”
I think back to the past months. We fell into acting like a couple so easily, and maybe I’m foolish to think it’s all because of me, but Amira is happy. She sings while she bakes, and she comes home with a spring in her step more often than not. Her eyes light up when she sees me in my damn glasses, and she giggles when I snap them into my case before bed. And her smile is always softest before she falls asleep, and brightest first thing in the morning.
“Yeah,” I say, failing to keep my own smile from lighting up my face. “She is.”
He gives a curt nod. It’s not welcoming, but it’s accepting. Of me, maybe, but more likely of Amira’s choice.
“So will you ask her?”
“Ask her what?”
“To marry you.”
I don’t know if she would ever want me to ask her, but I do know I’d be sure of her answer before I did. It would be nice, to say yes and please her father, but I can’t lie.
“When she wants me to, I will.” I mean every syllable of that sentence, and it comes from the deepest section of my heart. The piece that decided it belonged to Amira all those years ago.
“No.” Her voice is like a spark of static electricity, zapping my chest. I jolt a little from her directness, and Mr Solak twists his body towards her.
Neither of us had seen her coming back. I hadn’t thought she would at all and was prepared to filter through the crowd to find her once I got away from her father. But she stands by us, two full wine glasses in her hands. Her cheeks are bright pink and lines track across her brow.
“I—” Despite starting to speak, I have no words. They won’t form in my brain, let alone my throat. No . Like, never?
Amira turns to her father. “This conversation is done. I don’t want to get married to some guy you think is perfect for me, and I don’t want to get married to Noah. I don’t want to be married at all. Ever.”
She drops the wine glasses on the table, turning her back on Mr Solak. “We’re done,” she finishes before he can speak.
I don’t know how long he stands there, because my focus is entirely on Amira and blood is pounding through my ears. But he must leave eventually, because she turns to me and grabs my hands.
“Cupcake, I—”
“Don’t, please. This is what I was so worried about. The external pressure. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
Stepping closer, I squeeze her fingers and hold her hands to my chest. “You didn’t drag me into anything, Cupcake. I want to be here, remember?”
“I remember how this started. Why this started. If it hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”
“I’d still be here.”
Amira closes her eyes, turning her face to the side as one single tear falls down her cheek. “But I don’t think I would be.”
I spend the rest of the night with my hand lingering over the small of Amira’s back, but mentally, I’m stuck back at her words from earlier. Falling into something that felt a lot like a relationship was so easy for me, because I’d wanted it all along. But although I knew this was new territory for her, I didn’t think she was quite as doubtful as she now seems.
Maybe it was just overhearing my conversation with her father that scared her enough to make her question the feelings she clearly has. Or maybe she’s right. Maybe she does only feel this way because of how we were thrown together and forced to play a role.
I don’t know how to make her want this because of me, not just because of the story we tell and how it gets her father off her back a little. I want her to want us, for real.
As the crowd begins to thin, a heavy ache spreads across my forehead. I’d try to blame it on the two glasses of cheap house wine, but it’s more than that. I’ve been stewing for hours now and my eyes are drying from the strain.
“When do you want to leave?”
Amira has dragged me back to the table, and is sitting sideways on her chair to watch the group still dancing in the centre of the room. The groom twirls the bride, and everyone steps back to avoid stepping on her extravagant white dress. It makes me wonder what our wedding might be like, if we ever have the chance to get there. Amira would want something far smaller, and with my lack of close family outside of Cassidy and my mother that would be more than okay by me. It actually would be intimate, instead of just having the illusion of it. And Amira’s dress would be understated but elegant. I imagine her in lace sleeves and a flowy skirt, and the pounding that’s growing in my head moves south to become a solid sting in my chest.
She said she’d never want that, and I’m trying not to take it personally, but it feels a little like my dream has been ripped out from under me. Serves me right for falling so deeply for a woman I barely knew and clinging to that lust for so damn long.
“Ella and I were thinking of heading into town after the party here dies down,” Amira answers. She has to shout over the loud thumping of the bass as the DJ begins to play what can only be described as ‘night club music’. All rhythm, no lyrics, and plenty of adrenaline-boosting beat drops. Leaning towards me, Amira adds, “You can come?”
It’s an afterthought, clearly, but it doesn’t cut through me the way it might have earlier. My feelings aside, Amira feels like she needs her space and I can’t hold that against her. Maybe space will do her good. After all, it’s only a night out with her cousin.
“No, thank you.” I lean closer so I can talk without raising my voice.
She pouts, dropping a hand to my knee. She squeezes, then holding her grip presses her hand up my thigh. Her thumb stretches a little higher still and she bites her lip. “I was hoping you’d come. I know I freaked out earlier, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the benefits of what we have now.”
I want to give in. So much it hurts. My fingers twitch, and all the blood in my body rushes south. Because the benefits were more than great and yes, I want more. But if she’s as uncertain as she seems, I don’t think more is best. And I’d be willing to bet the wine is messing with her inhibitions.
“I’ll wait up,” I say as I place my hand over hers. “But before anything else, you need to know what you want. I don’t want this to be fake anymore. Even fake with real benefits. I want the whole thing.”
“I know you do.”
I drop my head, eyes on our hands. “And what do you want?”
“It’s not about what I want, Noah. It’s about what I need.”
“And what’s that, Cupcake?” I squeeze, hoping for the answer I don’t think she is going to give me.
“I need this to be what we always intended it to be.”
I look up at her, but she’s blurry from the tears in my eyes.
“Fake,” she finishes. And my heart cracks right through the middle.