Page 52 of Deadly Sights

“Alastair?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Don’t mind me. Since this isn’t a call to replenish your supplies, I’m returning the knives, guns, nerve agents, garrote?—”

“Wait… Bring the garrote. You never know what will happen.”

“As you wish.”

“And a syringe or two. I might meet people that will need a little extra convincing to give me the information I need.”

“Of course. We must always prepare for contingencies.”

I grin at Alastair’s dry wit before hanging up.

When he arrives, Alastair surveys each room and sniffs the air. I glance around the neat suite; I cleaned enough to satisfy my need for order without devolving into a frenzy. When Alastair moves out of earshot, I mimic him and sniff the air, wondering what he intends. In the bedroom, I realize his purpose. He sprays a scent neutralizer in the air.

He turns to me and says, “Congratulations on the new phase of your relationship. Would it kill you to protect the lady’s reputation from the gossiping staff?”

“Er… I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now while you’re away, should I prepare the master bedroom for her move?”

“What move?” Nadira asks, entering the room.

“Alastair, in his unsubtle way, was probing to find out if he should move your things into my room. You don’t have to answer him,” I say while glaring at his smug grin.

Nadira shifts her glance between us before settling on me. “Do you not want me in your space? I don’t want to cause another incident after the last time.”

I take her hands in mine. “My inability to cope wasn’t because you read my private thoughts. I feared they would push you away, and a life without you in it after finding you again would have been untenable. But I was trying not to force the issue.”

“And honestly, having to move your things into the master bedroom can only improve the dreary austerity he sleeps in.” Alastair moves to the cart he commandeered from the bellhop downstairs.

“Dreary? Austere?” Nadira asks.

I shrug, but her stillness prompts me to add, “Unfinished. I was busy with other things.”

“I don’t get it. The other rooms I saw were warm and welcoming.”

“I was saving the master bedroom for last.” I walk to her side and whisper in her ear. “My queen should dictate what goes in that room.”

Her breath stutters as she exhales after my admission. “Understood.”

“Will there be anything else?” Alastair asks.

My answer is the glare I shoot at him. On his way, he whistles a tune I can’t place.

“I like him.”

“You can’t have him,” I reply.

“We’ll see.” Nadira pats my chest and walks toward the door Alastair exited through. “Ready to help me get my memory back?”

Ipull up to Creative Gifts, the orphanage that started me on my current path. Phantom screams of children from my past life echo as we walk the abandoned playground side by side. Nadira brushes her hand against mine. The action coming from her prompts me to lace our fingers together.

I’m glad I do. Her fingers tremble against mine, belying her calm exterior. I now recognize the gesture for what it is, a subtle call for support. How could I forget that she sometimes finds it difficult to ask for comfort when she is in need? This is why I’m here, why I’ll make myself invaluable to her. Nadira is so used to being everyone’s support system, she neglects herself. It’s a habit she no longer needs to practice.

I kiss her knuckles, hoping she will gain strength from my small show of encouragement. I understand her nervousness because I share the sentiment albeit for selfish reasons. Somewhere inside her, Nadira has convinced herself she needs to be whole before fully accepting me. I disagree, but I haven’t come up with an irrefutable argument to win her over. Since I’m at a disadvantage, I offer silent prayers for her to get what she needs so I get what I’ve wanted for most of my life.

“Do you want to tour the buildings first or the places we used to escape to?” I ask.

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