Chapter Twenty-two
The moment the first glint of the Nile’s green floodplain appeared on the horizon, a shared, collective sigh seemed to pass through the caravan.
The world slowly returned to a more familiar form.
First, the fields of date palms and the small mud-brick huts.
Then the distant, smoky haze of the city, followed by the familiar sounds of shouting and commerce.
The chaos of Cairo, which had seemed so overwhelming just a few weeks ago, now felt like a comforting embrace.
It was over. Max had brought Eden out to the desert and back safely. It seemed his use to her was done.
They rode through the city’s narrow streets, their arrival going largely unnoticed. He saw Eden’s shoulders slump as they rode, as if the last of her strength had finally given out.
He escorted her back to their temporary haven at the Shepheard, then left her with Mrs. Carlisle while he went back out to tie things up with Amir and the others.
When he returned, Max found her sitting in a chair by the window, her hands in her lap.
She hadn’t bothered to unpack, hadn’t even washed the dust from her face.
“We made it back safely,” he said, the words sounding hollow to his own ears.
She nodded, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Yes, thank you, Max. You have done everything I needed you to do.”
He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. They were surprisingly cold. “You did it, Eden. You went all the way, and you made a choice that hardly anyone else would have made.”
Her eyes, when she finally looked up at him, were full of misery.
“I had to leave it. But I can’t quit thinking about it.
I don’t know what it was, what kind of people must have made it.
It has shaken me to the core, and I don’t know how to go on, now that I know of its existence.
It’s left me with far more questions than it answered.
In fact, I don’t think I got any answers at all. ”
He squeezed her hands, his thumb rubbing small circles on her knuckles.
He couldn’t say anything to that. There were no words.
The Scarab was a piece of magic, a relic of an ancient world that had defied all reason and logic.
It was beautiful and terrible, and he was glad they’d left it where it was.
He hated that the Scarab had left her so confused and depressed.
But his own fears were once more rising to the surface.
The expedition was over. Their shared purpose, the thing that had brought them together and bound them in a way he couldn’t quite name, was gone.
He looked at her, so exhausted and fragile in the dim light of the room.
He had no excuse to keep her here, to hold onto this moment a little longer.
What would the future hold for them? Back in England, she would return to her lectures, her books, and her quiet life of academia. And he supposed he would stay here, searching for his next job.
Though she seemed to have enjoyed their time together, she’d never given any indication she wanted it to continue. And even if she did, how could it? They lived in very different worlds now.
He wanted to tell her everything he was feeling, to ask her to stay, to say anything to keep her from leaving.
But no words came. He’d never been good at telling her what he needed.
Hell, he’d never even been able to say the three words that could have changed everything.
He was no hero. He was perhaps the biggest coward who ever lived, because he just couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t risk telling her everything that was in his heart and then watching her walk away from him again. He’d barely survived it the first time.
The fan hummed, a sound so alien after the vast, wind-swept silence of the desert. Everything was as it should be, and yet nothing felt right.
“Are you hungry?” he asked at last. “Would you like me to go get you something?”
“I’m too tired to eat,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Then you should get cleaned up and go to bed,” he said, feeling completely helpless.
She nodded but still didn’t move.
“Eden, you’re worrying me,” he said softly, pushing to his feet and pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
Exhaustion was evident in every muscle of her body, etched into the lines around her eyes.
The fire that had burned in her for weeks, that fierce, brilliant light of purpose, had been extinguished.
It had been replaced by a quiet stillness he didn’t know how to penetrate.
“I’m fine,” she murmured. “I’m sure that once I get some rest, I’ll be fine.”
He knew this probably wasn’t the right time to press her. But despite his fear, he had to know. He had to know if there was any hope for them. “So,” he began, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room. “What’s next?”
She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Next?”
“For us,” he clarified, feeling a tightness in his chest. “When do you want to book your passage back to London?”
He watched a flicker of something—disappointment? relief?—cross her face before she hid it. “As soon as possible,” she said, her voice flat. “There’s nothing keeping me here. Is there?”
He shook his head, a sense of finality settling over him. He had expected this, of course. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Good,” he said, his voice clipped and unemotional. “That’s good. I’m sure Mrs. Carlisle will be glad to head back.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of the old Eden returning. “Yes. And you? I imagine you’ll be off on your next expedition?”
Her words held a hint of a challenge, as if she were testing him, waiting for him to confirm her suspicions.
He wanted to tell her he had no plans, that his only desire was to stay right here, to sit in this room with her for as long as he could.
But the words wouldn’t come. He had never been good at this kind of conversation.
When it came to his own feelings, he was lost.
“I’m sure something will come along,” he said instead, looking down into his glass. “I probably won’t return to England. Not for a while.”
He looked up at her and saw a flash of pain in her eyes before she looked away.
She had mistaken his detachment for eagerness.
She thought he couldn’t wait to be rid of her, to get back to the life he was more comfortable with.
She believed he was counting the days until he could be back in the desert, chasing after a new mystery.
She had her own insecurities, her own fears that he was too much, too big for her life, and that he would eventually get bored with her.
He knew these things, yet he still couldn’t find the words to ease her fears.
The conversation died, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.
They were both holding back, waiting for the other to make a move.
He was afraid to admit how much he wanted her to stay, and she was afraid to admit how much she wanted him to ask.
The chasm between them was filled with unspoken words and misinterpreted glances.
Why didn’t he have the courage to change it?
He finally put his drink down and turned toward the door, unable to bear the weight of the moment any longer. “I’ll get your tickets sorted out,” he said, his voice gruff. “And I’ll have someone see to your luggage.”
She nodded, not looking at him. “Thank you, Max. For everything.”
He wanted to tell her that there was no need to thank him, that this journey had been more of a gift to him than she could ever know.
He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t a man who had ever wanted to be tied down, but that she had changed that.
That he was worried about what a life without her would look like. He wanted to tell her so many things.
But he didn’t. He simply turned and left the suite, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He didn’t know how to say what he felt, and he had a terrifying feeling that she didn’t know how to listen.
“You love him, don’t you?”
Felicity’s voice broke into Eden’s maudlin thoughts like a bucket of water thrown over her head.
“What?” she asked, glancing up at the woman, who stood in the doorway of her bedchamber, her gaze pitying. “Why would you say that?”
“I’m sorry. I overheard your conversation.
I didn’t mean to.” The woman walked slowly across the room, taking the chair across from hers.
“But it’s obvious the man wanted you to ask him to come back to England with you.
Or that he wanted you to stay with him. It’s been a long time for me, but I still recognize the sound of a man in love. ”
Eden blinked, her thoughts scattering. “I wish that were so,” she said with a sigh. “But you must be mistaken. He’s made it clear that he can’t wait to be shut of me once again.”
Felicity shook her head with a sad smile.
“No, my dear. It is you who is mistaken. Are you willing to lose him from pure stubbornness? Because it seems he might be. And I’d hate to see two people who are so suited for each other end up alone.
Trust me, love is the only thing in the world worth taking a chance on. ”
“Do you truly think he loves me?” Eden asked, the fugue state that she’d been in since the tunnels collapsed finally starting to dissipate.
“I think the more important question is whether you love him,” Felicity said with a sad smile. “What do you want from your life, Eden? Now that you’ve been with him for all these weeks, can you imagine going back to England without him?”
The pain that filled her at the very thought was all the answer she needed.
Felicity stood and squeezed Eden’s shoulder.
“Don’t let that be the last conversation you have with him.
I’ll go and run you a hot bath so you can wash the desert off you and perhaps start leaving whatever happened out there behind you.
You told me to figure out what I wanted the rest of my life to look like, Eden, but now I think you need to answer that question yourself.
And then, when he returns, perhaps you can finally tell him what you want. ”
“Thank you,” Eden murmured as the woman crossed the sitting room into the expansive bathing chamber, and the sound of running water filled the space.
What do I want the rest of my life to look like?
That was a good question, and Eden wasn’t sure she knew the answer.
But she did know that whatever form it took, she wanted Max by her side.
Her life was fuller when he was in it. It always had been.
And Felicity was right. The worst thing would not be to lose him.
It would be letting him once again walk away without even trying to stop him.