Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
NOAH (PRESENT)
Frustrated with myself, I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.
I should have known she’d leave the moment I stepped out of her sight. I’d barely slipped on a fresh pair of boxers when she left. I’d never met a woman so fascinating yet equally frustrating.
I debated rushing after her before deciding against it. But if she wasn’t back in the next fifteen minutes, then I would. Sighing, I finished getting dressed, opting for linen shorts and a loose white T-shirt, and headed to the kitchen.
After looking through the few cupboards, I found a box of loose gunpowder tea, grounded coffee, and sugar. While the coffee brewed and water boiled in a kettle, I grabbed a knife and walked outside. Finding the small pot of mint I’d noticed yesterday, I cut a few pieces and walked back inside.
I turned on the gas stove, firing it up with the small lighter that was on the counter, and let the teapot I’d prepared simmer.
Both the coffee pot and tea were ready when the front door opened again. “I’m back,” she called out before appearing in the living area a few seconds later with a clear plastic bag filled with items.
She walked into the kitchen and set the bag on the counter before pulling her djellaba over her head. In the process of removing it, her tank top rode up, revealing her toned stomach and giving me a peek of the dainty butterflies I knew she had tattooed on her left hip.
My grip on the handle of the mug I was holding tightened as I remembered what it was like to trace my tongue there as she writhed under my touch.
What I wouldn’t give to get to do that again.
She threw the garment to the side, the fabric landing onto one of the cushions in the living room. She faced me again, only to find me looking at her. She quickly tugged her top back down and propped her hip against the side of the counter.
“Now, look who’s staring.”
Her comment pulled a small smile on my face because it gave me a glimpse of my Amalia. The one I knew was still there.
I met her gaze. “Never said I wasn’t. I’m always looking at you.”
Something familiar washed over her gaze, but it was gone in the same breath. Amalia tore her eyes away from me and pulled the items she’d bought out of the bag—a fresh baguette, two individual Kiri cheese blocks, and two eggs.
She walked past me and grabbed a knife. While she assembled the breakfast sandwich, I poured a cup of coffee for her, knowing she preferred it over tea.
After making it the way she liked it, I walked over to her. “Here,” I said, handing her the cup with the spoon still inside.
She glanced at me over her shoulder as she cut the now filled baguette in half.
When she just kept looking at my outstretched hand, my lips pulled down into a frown. “Do you not like coffee anymore?” I questioned, thinking I might have been wrong.
“No, I still do,” she answered, still not taking the mug from me.
When she looked up at me with a puzzled look on her face, I asked, “Then what is it?” It was quiet between us for a moment as we both looked at each other, my eyes roaming her face, trying to read her.
She shook her head and finally grabbed it from my hand, her fingers brushing against mine in the process. She took a sip before muttering, “Thanks.”
After that, she grabbed a half of the breakfast sandwich she’d made and with her mug in hand, she headed for the courtyard. “Eat, we have to leave soon to meet with Nassim,” she instructed before pushing the iron door open and walking outside.
I hesitated on following her but knew that she’d most likely just walk back inside if I did. So instead, I poured myself some tea and rested against the edge of the counter to eat.
As I did, I caught a glimpse of her through the small window over the fridge. Amalia sat in one of the chairs around the mosaic outdoor table there, propping her foot onto the seat, something she always did when she ate. She took bite after bite of her sandwich, sipping her coffee every once in a while.
Watching her do something so mundane reminded me of the week we’d spent together at my apartment before everything changed and I ended up ruining the best thing in my life.
Recruits always got a week off in the middle of their training to rest before the more intense second part of their year. So a few days before they were set to leave, I’d pulled Amalia into my office to both steal a kiss and ask her if she’d want to stay behind with me.
I’d been contemplating asking her for a few weeks, but I’d been too nervous to—something that had never happened to me before. I’d kept telling myself that she might have a family she’d want to spend time with instead of me and I could’ve used the time off to see my mother who’d been asking me to visit every time we spoke on the phone.
But I’d wanted to be selfish for once and have Amalia all to myself.
I’d been tired of the stolen kisses and lingering glances across crowded rooms. I’d wanted more. Wanted her in my space, in my bed, and just with me for longer than a few fleeting minutes before someone noticed we were both gone.
When she’d agreed, I’d never felt more relieved to hear a “yes” coming from someone’s lips.
She’d shown up on my doorstep on Sunday night and for the rest of our time together, I’d discover her, what she did and didn’t like, what made her tick, what made her laugh. I’d spent hours exploring every inch of her body and she’d done the same with mine.
It had been the most blissful week of my life and in that time, I’d realized I’d never really known what true happiness felt like until Amalia had come into my life.
I’d always felt like my heart couldn’t welcome the feeling, that it’d been wired in a way that all it could harbor was hollowness and occasional fleeting moments where I thought I should be happy but couldn’t feel it.
All of that had changed the moment she landed herself there and reengineered it in a way where I could experience it.
When she smiled at me, I felt the warm embrace enveloping my skin. And with her laughter came the fluttering feeling in your chest when everything just seemed to fall into place.
Amalia had made me feel seen. She’d made me feel alive.
But it had been beyond just how she’d made me feel. I’d also started to be happy with who I was, despite my past. My mother had always told me that who I was wasn’t tied to my father and what he’d done to me, but I’d never truly believed it.
I’d always told myself that she was my mother, so of course she had to say that.
But the way Amalia had seen me, truly seen me, had made me realize what my mother had been trying to make me understand.
When Amalia had fallen asleep in my arms before that pivotal Saturday, the night where everything had completely changed, I’d stayed awake, my mind wandering about what-ifs.
The secrecy and sneaking around had been fun at first, but as I’d stared down at her in my arms, noting how peaceful she looked there and how at peace I’d felt having her against me, I’d known that Amalia wasn’t someone I was willing to live without.
Over the weeks, I’d fallen in love with her completely and intoxicatingly. She’d become my favorite person and place to be next to all wrapped into one. She left me breathless while simultaneously breathing life back into me.
I’d gone to sleep that night, dreaming of a future and hoping she’d wanted the same. Until a call woke me up the next morning and flipped my world upside down.
I never wanted what we had to end, but when the words mother, cancer, and dead kept ringing over and over in your ears, the only thing you wanted to do was find a way to make them stop.
I’d thought I’d get over it, that after a few days, the grief wouldn’t be so poignant and I’d be able to go back and tell her why I never came back with breakfast like I’d told her I would.
But the grief had swallowed me whole and drowned me until I found myself facing the edge of a cliff, wondering if having everything stop altogether would be easier than having to swim against the treacherous waters with no guarantee of making it to the other side.
It took me a long time to realize that I could do this, that losing my safe haven wouldn’t be the end of me and that I would be able to see the other end, despite how hard it would be.
I’d done the work, I’d been ready to come back, but it had been too late. Amalia had already been gone and no matter how many times I’d tried to find her and reach out, I’d never been able to.
Now, I was faced with an opportunity to right my wrongs. The odds may be stacked against us, but I’d make her mine again. I’d lied and betrayed her trust, but I’d do anything to earn it again. No matter how long it took.
I knew a simple conversation wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start that I’d never gotten years ago.
I was tired of living in this constant state of hollowness, of having a darkness looming over my head that only Amalia could chase away.
I looked over at where she’d been sitting, only to find her no longer there. Panic sank in my gut at the thought that something happened to her and I was about to rush outside when she walked into the kitchen in the next moment, with an empty cup in her hand.
I let out a breath of relief and stared at her as she brushed past me to rinse her cup and leave it in the sink.
She faced me again. “What’s wrong with you?”
I cleared my throat. “Nothing?”
“Is that a statement or a question?”
“I—”
“It doesn’t matter. We have to get going,” she ordered before heading for the door.
“Wait,” I called out.
She halted in her steps and pinched the bridge of her nose. “We don’t have time, Noah.”
“I need to make a phone call.”
“Then make it.”
“I’d love to, but my phone was unfortunately lost in transit to my cell,” I deadpanned.
She immediately realized her mistake and muttered something under her breath as she reached for her back pocket. Then she tossed an object in my direction and I caught it before it hit my face.
“Make it quick,” she said before turning around and walking out the front door, leaving it ajar. I followed behind and locked the door with the keys she’d left inside the lock.
While Amalia got the car started, I stood by the front door, flipping open the burner phone she’d handed me. I hesitated for a moment before finally dialing his number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Who’s this?” he demanded harshly.
“Hey, Jamal. It’s me,” I replied, careful not to let my tone reflect how I felt.
I planned to tell him everything once we were face to face, but the anticipation of his reaction to my confession terrified me.
Amalia hadn’t taken it well and I could only imagine how he would react to knowing that my own blood robbed him of his.
“Uncle Noah?” he asked, his voice softer now. “What happened? Why are you calling me from a burner phone?”
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply before saying, “I’ll be texting you an address and time in the next hour and need you to meet me there. You’ll need to be discreet.”
“Okay.” I could hear the apprehension in his voice, but he knew I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.
“Bring Valentina and Kai with you,” I tell him.
Jamal wasn’t aware that I knew what he and his friends actually did and I’d intended to keep it that way, but based on Nassim’s comment last night, we’d need all the extra hands we could get.
“I will. How do I contact you when I get there?”
“You won’t. I’ll be in contact.”
There was a pause before he spoke again, “Do I need to be concerned?”
“Just get here. I’ll explain everything then,” I replied and hung up.
When I looked up, I found Amalia leaning against the hood of the car, watching me with an unreadable expression on her face.
She pushed herself off without a word and rounded the car, then slid into the driver’s seat. I opened the passenger door and settled into the seat beside her, then handed the phone back to her.
She grabbed it from me, our fingers brushing in the process, and dropped it into the door pocket. She started the car, cranking the A/C up to counter the fact that some of the windows were now incapacitated, and put her hand on the stick shift.
I waited for her to reverse the car, but instead, she surprised me—and her—by asking, “Everything okay?”
I turned my face toward her. “Yeah,” I started, feeling the burden of the impending conversation weighing heavily on my shoulders. “At least I hope it will be.”
She looked at me for another beat before nodding and reversing the car into the small alley behind.
We drove through the bustling streets of the city, Amalia maneuvering through the street vendors’ carts piled high with goods and weaving through the throngs of pedestrians.
We were nearing the end of August and tomorrow was one of the main holidays in the country, so everyone was out to get their last-minute items for the celebration that would last the next four days.
After a few miles, Amalia turned onto a quieter side street and drove down the road until she turned into an alley and parked behind an older building near the entrance to the old city’s marketplace.
Turning the engine off, she grabbed the black cell phone on her way out of the car, her fingers flying over the small keyboard. Then she broke the phone in half and threw it into the dumpster she’d parked in front of.
She reached for a bag I hadn’t noticed before in the back seat and pulled clothes from it. She tossed a short-sleeved thobe and a baseball cap my way, ordering me to put them on.
I did as told, slipping the chocolate brown thobe over my clothes. Then I brushed my hair back, secured the hat over my head, and walked over to her as she pulled a lighter djellaba over her own clothes and closed the back door.
Suddenly, she grabbed my hand, intertwined our fingers together, and simply said, “Let’s go. We don’t have all day.”
I didn’t question it, reveling in her skin against mine, and followed as she guided us into the maze of alleyways.