Page 33 of Lily In The Valley
I leaned my temple against the car window as Khalil drove along the last stretch of a winding canyon road. The sun spilled across the horizon, gold flares towering over red rock cliffs. The shadows between each valley stretched long and soft like velvet across the desert floor.
I closed my eyes.
I shouldn’t have come. There was still much left for me to do. Packing up my home, closing out patient files with my replacement, confirming start dates with my program director. I should not have been tricked into a trip that I didn’t ask for. How convenient Khalil already had something in mind when he’d asked me while burying his bone deep in my uterus. Nowwho was going to say no to that. My phone buzzed in my lap, and I ignored it.
Beside me, Khalil let out a long, slow breath.
“You still mad at me?” he asked, his voice low and even.
“I don’t like being set up,” I huffed. “How did I let you guilt-trip me into this?”
“Guilt implies I feel bad about my actions.” He brushed a finger along my cheek. “I don’t feel bad about making you take a break, Lily-girl.”
The SUV turned off the main road onto a gravel path lined with flowering cacti and wide stretches of open land. Nestled against the canyon wall ahead, the resort appeared like a mirage–earth-toned casitas with arched wooden doors and wraparound patios, each one blending perfectly with the landscape; it looked like the desert had grown it from the red clay.
When the car stopped, Khalil opened his door, then circled to open mine before I could reach for the handle.
“When did you become so soft and chivalrous?” He took my hand, unnecessarily helping me out of the large truck. A cloud of red dust settled at my feet.
“Hey,” he said, tilting my chin up. “Let me have this trip. Let me spoil you a little.”
I hesitated, entranced from the magnetic way his eyes held mine. I placed a hand over his. His grip was warm, sure, and easy in a way that made me woozy. His thumb brushed my lips. My heart thundered against my ribs. He lowered his face to mine, stilling just before our lips met. Then he laughed.
“Yeah,” he growled, biting his lip. “We gonna get that mind to turn off for sure.”
I punched his chest and walked off.
Walking into the casita felt like a different world. Shades of rusty reds, coppery browns, and golden yellows layered everysurface. A rounded archway led into a sunken living room, grounded by a brick fireplace. The red of the brick mixed with the orange of the couch made me feel warm inside.
“Go take off your traveling clothes, like Ms. Sonya would say,” Khalil’s voice echoed from the doorway.
I walked over to him, eyeing him up and down. “You’re getting too comfortable telling me what to do. I don’t like that.” I scrunched up my face as he walked over to me. He pulled me by the waist, strumming his fingers over my butt.
“You’ll be comfortable with whatever I say you’ll be comfortable with, understand.” His voice was low, threatening in a too good sort of way. I started to respond, but he placed a finger on my lips instead. “Go change, then meet me on the patio.”
I went to go change, but only because the compression of the workout set I was wearing was becoming uncomfortable quickly.
The sun dipped low by the time we sat down for dinner on the casita’s private patio. The resort had set the table with flickering votives, cloth napkins, and an arrangement of lavender sprigs and desert roses. It was intimate–too intimate. Khalil and I had our thing, but it wasn’t anything on the level of honeymooners trying to pretend the real world didn’t exist.
A soft breeze tugged at the hem of my crocheted dress as I took a wine glass into my hand, sipping slowly. The chilled Sauvignon Blanc was crisp against my tongue, refreshing for the desert heat that lingered with the fading sun. Across from me, Khalil looked entirely relaxed, elbow draped over the back of his chair. The short sleeves of his linen shirt raised just enough to highlight the veins in his arms.
“You’re sitting there being all calm,” I said, taking another sip of the wine.
“That’s the point of being here, right?” He cut into his salmon, slow and deliberate.
“Why are we eating here, instead of the restaurant?” I looked around the table. There was a pear and arugula salad with goat cheese and dried cranberries. A plate of Ahi tuna tostadas graced the center of the table, garnished with salsa verde and cilantro. R&B drifted in from the living space of the casita, filling the space with lover tunes. Khalil continued eating his salmon and potatoes. I looked at my own plate, my stomach urging me to begin eating. My mouth watered at the braised short rib with roasted carrots and mashed potatoes.
“What makes you think I want this? I don’t recall you asking.” I raised my eyebrow, toying with the silverware next to my hand.
“Do you want something else?” he asked, a smile flickering in his eyes. No. I didn’t want something else. “Exactly, now stop asking so many questions and eat.”
I rolled my eyes, picking up the fork, scooping a heaping amount of beef and carrots. The chile of the broth the beef was braised in paired well with the sweetness of the carrots. I closed my eyes and moaned. When I opened my eyes, Khalil was mid-bite.
“So, what’s the plan for this trip?” I asked between bites. He shook his head, clearing his stupor from before.
“That’s not for you to worry about.” He held one of the tostadas to my lips. I opened and let him feed me. “You’re here to relax.”
I chewed, sitting back and crossing my arms. I washed down the food with more of my wine. “Why does everyone think I can’t relax?”
