Page 89 of My Turkish Fling
“What time is it? I think I need to get changed!” Aria finished the napkins, looking at the clock on the wall.
“Do you need help?” I followed her into Alex’s bedroom, where a questionable inflatable mattress awaited her and Cem.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I asked. “It tends to deflate a bit overnight.”
“Oh, it’s for the best. I think Cem’s parents are a bit uncomfortable with us sleeping in the same room. It’s best if it looks like camping and not like… you know, enjoyable.”
My skin sizzled with discomfort. “But they know you sleep together at your place, right? You travelled together and stayed together for the premiere.”
Aria bit her lip. “Yeah. It’s a bit weird. I think they just like to pretend we’re waiting until we’re married. Mostly for the sake of their more conservative family members. And me, of course. It’d ruin my reputation. It’s easier since we’re here, with no other relatives around.” She rolled her eyes.
What would they say if they knew their eldest son was sleeping with the hostess, I wondered. Not that we’d do that again in a very long time, if ever.
“Any chance they sleep very soundly with earplugs?”
“Apparently his father sleepwalks. Usually to the fridge. But I’m not sure where he’ll end up in here since he doesn’t know the layout of the house. With Mom and Dad, he kept walking to the laundry.”
I groaned. It was going to be an interesting night.
I helped Aria change into her shimmery, teal dress with an open back.
“So gorgeous!” I exhaled as she did a spin for me. “It’s like a wedding dress, just not white.”
Her eyes shone. “I kind of wish this was our wedding. I know Cem keeps asking and I keep telling him no, but how amazing would it be if we just got married? No waiting, no more party planning. Just us together forever. We already have the marriage license.”
My chin wobbled and I steadied it with a smile. “Well, just say the word and I’ll call Len.”
“Who’s Len?”
“A lovely local pastor I went out with, until Emir scared him away.”
Aria burst into laughter. “Scared him, how?”
I told her the story of my ill-fated date and Emir’s behavior.
“Oh my God. He followed you and ruined your date? That’s…”
“Insanely jealous? Yeah.”
Aria’s face softened. “But also… he must be crazy about you.”
I shrugged, fiddling with the fabric of Aria’s dress. I couldn’t let my thoughts go down that route. Not now. I’d made a promise to myself to make it through the party without crying.
“You think that pastor would show up to marry Emir’s brother? I mean, no one’s that nice.”
She had a point, but the optimist in me lifted its stupidly resilient head. “I’m willing to ask.”
That was one thing I could do for my friend. Asking hard questions of people who’d rather not talk to me was just another day for a journalist.
“What do you think Cem would say? I should talk to him first.” Something about the way her eyes darted around the room, teeth working on a freshly painted fingernail, gave me pause.
“Are you serious? What about his parents?”
Aria’s mouth twisted, a look of harried panic rising into her eyes. “Cem’s parents would probably be relieved, since I’m pregnant and they’ll find out soon enough.”
We stared at each other in stunned silence.
“You’ve told Cem, right?”
