Page 42 of Out of Office Nights
‘But…the pool thing…that shouldn’t have happened.’ At his silence, she huffed. ‘This is where you say you agree with me.’
He shrugged. ‘It happened. I’m not going to waste time debating what should or shouldn’t have been. There’s no point.’
She resumed pacing, stuck in the curious no man’s land of wishing the dryer would ping quickly so he’d leave and wanting him to stay. To volunteer morsels of his life so she could justify this sudden urge not to push him away and protect herself. For him to deliver another insightful analysis that cut away more of her self-doubt and show her a clearer path to the centre she’d lost. The solid ground she hadn’t felt for a depressingly long time.
Her feet slowed as she passed the sketches on the dining table. She felt his gaze on her, steady but savage. Willing her to do…what, exactly?
It was nearing midnight. The right thing to do was see to his clothes, bid him goodnight and go to bed.
But…the right thing had gone out the window the second she’d invited him in. So she pulled out a chair. Watched him stride into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove.
‘What’s this?’
She turned sharply, her chest squeezing when she saw him holding a white wooden box instead of the tea she’d assumed he was making.
The delicate but distinctive sound when he set the box down gave away the state of its contents.
‘My grandmother’s favourite teapot. It broke the day she died.’
‘May I?’ he asked, a curious thickness in his voice.
Sabeen nodded, even though her heart was caught tight in a vise whose origin she couldn’t quite fathom. Or maybe she could. Maybe she wasn’t ready to admit she was exposing herself again,granting him access to places she’d kept under lock and key since Nathan.
She watched his long, elegant fingers slowly unravel the knotted cheesecloth. Her heart jumped at the further rattle of broken crockery. He caught her pained look and, mouth flattening, stopped.
‘No. It’s fine.’
He nodded, but when she reached into it, he caught her wrist. ‘Careful. I don’t want my mood ruined by seeing you hurt yourself,’ he said, his voice deep and sombre.
That sombreness weaved through her, moved her in a way that terrified her. Because she wanted him to understand. Wanted him to know without cynicism or condemnation what her connection to her grandmother meant to her. ‘I know it’s silly to keep something that’s worth almost nothing.’
His scowl admonished her. ‘We both know it means more to you than its monetary value.’
The chiding shamed her. But also buoyed her. When she padded over to him to look into the box she hadn’t opened since she’d buried herjida, she did it by drawing strength from him. ‘I don’t know why I kept it.’
His recrimination deepened. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t owe anyone an explanation for what you feel when you feel it. You know why you kept it.’
She pursed her lips, shame deepening a touch. Right along with the disconcerting feeling that he saw right into her soul.
‘The real question is what you’re going to do with it. How are you going to honour her with a box of broken memories?’
She blinked, her throat clogging with a swarm of thoughts and emotions. One of the prominent ones was that she’d vastly underestimated Teo Domene. He was the very last thing from shallow. His hedonistic tendencies were truly legendary, sure.But his layers were also fathomless. And it should’ve been a relief to know that he was different from the man who’d devastated her in the past.
Unfortunately, this new discovery placed him, the man she’d exposed her inner self so thoroughly to in the last few days, in the unique position of being exceptionally intriguing to her.
‘Are you familiar with the Japanese art of kintsugi?’ she murmured.
He nodded. ‘It’s a particular favourite of mine.’
Had she known that? Collected that nugget at the back of her mind and forgotten about it, only for it to resurface now? The idea of that, coupled with what she was thinking of doing, sent flutters rushing through her heart. And when his eyes went to the box and took on a determined glint, the butterflies raged harder.
‘Tell me what you need,’ he said, reaching for his phone and weakening her knees all over again.
The supplies arrived within the hour. By which time she’d cleared the dining table of everything and spread a protective sheet over it. Her hands shook as she spread out the shards of the broken teapot, and she was a little thankful that Teo, whose phone had been increasingly pinging with messages, went out into the courtyard to make what turned out to be a series of calls.
