Page 24 of My Turkish Fling
He shot up as well, wincing from pain. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” I stomped down the path, not looking over my shoulder.
He followed me in silence, and we made it back in record time. I wrestled the front door open, making sure he couldn’t jump in to help, and ran into my bedroom, locking the door behind me. There, I crumbled onto the floor against it, heaving cries of shame.
He found me hideous. Or at least not good enough in some way. I was too old. Too puffy-eyed and snotty. I waited until the cries fizzled out and peeled myself off the floor. Shaun had done a number on me; I thought as I undressed and stepped into the shower. I had to get myself under control. And most importantly, I had to stop throwing myself at Turkish strangers. I must have made the poor man so uncomfortable. I shuddered, remembering the pain behind those brown eyes.
As I scrubbed myself clean, I made a promise to myself. I’d work through this pain, just like I’d worked through everything else. And I’d keep it to myself.
I’d also nip this stupid crush in the bud. I’d date someone else. Someone respectable. My body resisted the idea, but my mind was firm. I wasn’t a fan of dating apps. In fact, I was terrified of them. Everyone knew my face, so it was almost impossible to tell if any interest in me was genuine or not. I’d have to find someone with a reasonably high profile, who understood what it was like. Someone local, who actually wanted to live here. Unlike Shaun. Or Emir.
I leaned my exhausted body against the ceramic tiles, letting the water run down my face. Like crying, but more efficient. Andthat’s when the answer came to me.
As much as Tabitha turned my stomach, she was right. The recently widowed pastor, who I’d met in passing at Tabitha’s son’s wedding, was the perfect fit. Handsome, nice, and local. Someone at the heart of the community. Not in the public eye but known and respected in this town. And now, single. I’d barely given him a second glance at the wedding and couldn’t remember anything he’d said. But he’d had a nice voice. Resonant, slightly soporific. I remembered the old ladies flocking around him, vying for attention. He must have had some charisma, even if he hadn’t particularly caught my eye. But I’d been married at the time, just like him.
Okay. I closed my eyes, trying to recall Len. A good head of light brown hair, a fit body, a nice voice, taller than me. Not imposing like Emir, but tall enough. I had to stop thinking about Emir. Back to Len, I ordered myself, getting out of the shower and wrapping myself in a towel. Len was the smart, safe choice. He probably wasn’t looking for a quick fling with a has-been celebrity he could boast about to his buddies. And if I got into a stable relationship and got some, I could stop humiliating myself with younger men like Emir.
Would Len even be interested in going out with me? I dressed up and, steeling my nerves, reached for my phone. Tabitha would know, and she’d be more than happy to get involved.
Chapter 11
Emir
I stepped into the guest room I already thought of as my bedroom, feeling surprisingly pain-free and mobile after a long run and a shower. Janie had been avoiding me for two days now, rather successfully. This morning, she’d got up so early that by the time I made it to the kitchen, I’d only found the cold remains of scrambled eggs on the counter. Later, when I went to check on Molly, I saw her coming from the pigsty, carrying an empty bucket. She’d hurried past me with a quick smile, claiming she was late for something.
I dressed up and threw myself on the bed, letting my face sink into the pillow. My neck felt stiff, as usual, but the headache was gone. I wanted to stay right here forever, holding onto that feeling. Along with the memory I’d been turning over in my mind for hours on end.
I’d held her delicate face in my hands, her lips parted, eyelids dipped. I’d seen the raw emotion on her face, the rivulets of the tears zigzagging down her cheeks. She’d looked so distraught, but it only made me want her more. Because I believed her. For the first time since I’d met her, Janie had felt unequivocally authentic. If I didn’t believe the tears, I believed the way her body jerked from their force, overpowered. It held me spellbound.
I should have kissed her.
The thought wouldn’t leave me alone, even if I knew my reasons. I didn’t want to take advantage of her weak moment. I couldn’t get involved with someone tied up to this land. What may have worked for my brother and his fiancée would never work for us. We both had too much baggage, and I didn’t believe in fairy tales. I didn’t even believe in casual affairs. That was for people who could take things lightly, not worrying about the future. Still, the moment she’d turned away from me and headed back to the house, I felt like I’d let go of the winning lottery ticket, watching it float down the river.
I should have kissed her.
I’d never experienced this level of regret after a well-reasoned, sensible decision, which told me something: I had to get back to dating. The way my body reacted to her was a dead giveaway that I’d been alone for too long. As soon as I got back to Istanbul, I’d force myself out there again, chatting to girls in nightclubs. The thought nearly made me dry heave, but maybe it’d be easier now, with Cem here in New Zealand. I’d represent myself, not my famous brother. With Cem engaged and our business arrangementfinished, I wouldn’t be seen as a gateway to a celebrity—at least I could hope so.
I filled my lungs, listening for any sounds from the kitchen. Was Janie out there? Would I run into her? No matter how awkward things had become between us, I still wanted to be near her. I wanted to make sure she was okay.
After the almost-kiss, she’d driven away and stayed out until late at night. I’d felt her absence even stronger than her presence. I’d got her phone number from Aria, through my brother, and spent all day thinking of how to approach her as I worked on her broken fencing.
At dinner time, I’d cooked some pasta and eaten it alone, thinking of her and what she was going through, and then cleaned the entire kitchen. Not that it was particularly dirty. I just wanted to do something for her.
Emir: Are you okay?
That was the only message I managed to compose and send.
Janie: Yes. Be back soon.
Okay, I didn’t excel at texting, and probably deserved that response. But her ‘soon’ ended up being nearly an hour later, and I had to all but sit on my hands to not text her again and demand to know her location.
I brushed my teeth, changed into a fresh shirt, and padded down the corridor, announcing my arrival by clearing my throat. Janie sat at the dining table, staring at her laptop, looking polished in a mustard yellow blazer. The dining area looked the same, but one side of the living room had been cleared two armchairs pushedinto the opposite corner. Had she been doing Pilates or some other exercise that needed more room?
“Hey!” She looked up and her eyes caught the early sun rays streaming through the window. The dog slept on the chair right next to her, his head perched in her lap. For a second, all was well, and I braced myself for a teasing comment. In fact, I wished for it. But within a couple of seconds, her smile withered, and she returned to her screen. “There’re some chicken salad and boiled eggs if you want.”
I missed the teasing. I missed her smile, fake or not. I wanted to see it again. She’d been hurt by her ex-husband, and I’d somehow made things worse.
“Thank you.” I snuck past her to make myself a cup of coffee. I’d spent some time yesterday figuring out how her coffee machine worked so I didn’t have to bother her.
