Page 48 of Because of Me

On the other side of the room, someone begins clinking their glass. Soon, the room jingles with the high-pitched clatter as more people join the cacophony. It feels like my ears start to bleed, and I’m about to shove my fingers in them to drown out the sound when it stops almost as suddenly as it started. The MCs voice beckons through the speakers for us to find our seats.

Noah pulls out my bow-draped chair, pushing it in slowly as I sit. My perfect gentleman. Mine. I do my best to ignore the way that thought pulls in my chest. Cousins—some I know and some I barely recognise—join us at the table. We speed through whispered introductions as the MC continues to outline the events of the evening. Sadik and his bride will enter shortly and perform their first dance, followed by speeches, and only once all that is over will dinner be served. I can’t hold in my groan when I realise how long I’ll have to wait for food. I don’t even crack open the little packet of butter before biting into the tiny bread roll on my side plate.

“Did you eat lunch?” Noah drapes his arm around me, pulling me close and leaning down. He keeps his voice low so only I can hear.

My stomach growls in response as I shake my head and swallow my mouthful. “I was too nervous.”

“About the dress?”

“And … this.” With a finger I gesture between us, finishing my pre-dinner snack.

Noah is being appropriately affectionate. Nothing more or less than how he acted at the last wedding, but knowing it means something now feels heavy on my shoulders.

I whisper to keep my voice under the droning speech by a greying man I assume is the bride’s father. “The last time I brought a partner to meet my father, it was horrible.”

“What happened?”

My cheeks heat and I can practically feel them turning the bright pink of my blush. I turn my face to rest my chin over Noah’s shoulder. So he can’t see how embarrassed I am, but also so I can drop my voice even lower to be sure no one else has a chance of hearing me. I don’t think any of them are trying to eavesdrop, half seem invested in the speech and the other half are engaged in whispered conversations of their own. Plus, I have no doubt everyone at the table heard the story from their families, but I’d rather not risk rehashing old uncomfortable memories.

“He told her he was thrilled I was making friends in the city, and asked if she had a single brother she could set me up with.”

Noah sucks in a quick breath, blowing it out slowly. “Don’t get offended, but your father’s a bit of a jerk, you know that right?”

Half of the tension I’ve been carrying around all day dissipates. I’d geared myself up for a comment about my sexuality, but time and time again Noah is proving he couldn’t care less. It’s the first time I’ve felt so free to just be open about my preferences and my past. Well, maybe not the first considering Cass never skipped a beat no matter who I brought home, but the first since her. The second, I guess. My head tilts, until my forehead rests close to Noah’s temple.

“Thank you,” I say with a soft laugh. “He kind of is, isn’t he?”

I shift in my seat, facing back towards the table but keeping my head resting against Noah’s. It’s funny how one person is all it takes to change everything you thought you knew about your wants. And it’s scary. Incredibly scary. I’m still dreading the moment my father comes by to inevitably berate me for my choice of date and do his best to make Noah feel small and insignificant, but something about having Noah by my side when he does makes me feel like I can handle it.

“Here,” Noah says as the speech comes to an end and everyone raises their glass in a toast. “You can have my roll.”

He slides the little seeded bun onto my plate of crumbs and opens the tiny packet of butter.

“I had lunch,” he adds when I hesitate to pick up the food he is offering me. “But if you get the beef, I’m swapping you for my chicken. Deal?”

NOAH

If Amira asks about her dress one more time, I might be inclined to punch her father in the face. I wouldn’t, but the temptation is growing stronger each time she glances over to him and folds into herself.

After the never-ending speeches, dinner is finally served. As it turns out, I’m in line for the beef dish anyway.

“We can still swap?” Amira asks, lifting her plate slightly. “I feel bad for eating your roll.”

My stomach protested the whole time she was eating the tiny portion of carbs, but it was worth it. Like I told her, I ate lunch. And before moving in with Amira I had a bad habit of eating dinner late anyway. Plus, I know what she can be like when she is hangry, and with everything else she has going on tonight, that’s the last thing we need to add to the list.

“Don’t feel bad. This steak looks delicious.” The medallion has been cut from a larger portion, cooked to the perfect shade of pink and topped with a mushroom gravy I can’t wait to stir into the side of mashed potatoes. Amira’s chicken looks equally decadent, with crispy skin and a creamy sauce over roast vegetables. The meals are bigger than those we typically serve at the restaurant, but I dig out my phone to take some photos for the chef. We’re always looking for new ways to incorporate local produce, and although she might not copy these exactly, I’m hoping the pictures are helpful in our next brainstorming session.

The table wasn’t exactly bursting with conversation while we waited for our meals, but we fall silent now. My food is as good as it looks, and from the soft sounds of Amira’s moans, I’m guessing the chicken is too. Her plate is almost empty when I put down my cutlery after taking my last bite. As I reach across the table to fill our wine glasses a firm hand lands on my shoulder and a burly body squeezes between Amira and me.

“Back again then?” Amira’s father does his best to tower over me. And to his credit he does, but only because I’m sitting down. The man isn’t necessarily short, but he isn’t tall either. His stout frame stretches the buttons of his pale blue dress shirt.

“Mr Solak.” I paint on my cheesiest smile, removing my napkin from my lap and pushing my chair back. I stand intentionally slowly, forcing him to step back and look up at me. I’ve never been as glad for my height as I am now. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

He huffs in response, turning away from me to glare down at Amira. “Your mother told me about your … living arrangement.” Glancing up at me, he scowls when he returns his gaze to Amira as he finishes his sentence. “We need to discuss this. Privately.”

Amira shrinks into herself. She drops her cutlery onto her plate and reaches behind her shoulders to pull the grey scarf around her. Once it’s secured in one hand, she downs the whole glass of wine I just poured her. I’ll have to remind her wine is meant to be savoured, but now is not the time and if she needs the liquid courage, I’m not going to stop her. Stepping in front of her father, I reach my hand out to help her up. Once she is standing, I turn her to face me and tug at the ends of the scarf.

“You don’t need it,” I whisper.

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