Page 53 of Nothing Without You
“He’s cooking,” Osama answered my thoughts. “That’s what he does when he’s here.”
Umaima looked at me and then back at Osama. “Doesn’t he cook all the time?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but I make him cook ‘cause I can.”
It seemed like Christian took after Eunbin. All the Wednesdays she spent time cooking with me and her son hovering over the island rubbed off on him.
Hasan studied my face when I sat behind Yunus—who shuffled backwards into me—his goofy smile eliciting my own. “You okay after Wednesday?”
Not really, but I had to be right?A whole company relied on me.
Hasan seemed satisfied by my nod.
The four of us—meaning the three of them—talked a bit as we waited for food. Osama and Umaima bantered about random topics, while Hasan kept to himself with Yunus, pitching in when needed. I, on the other hand, remained quiet.
My awkward commentaries usually led people into distancing themselves from me. When I was nervous, my words came across as rude. Sometimes when my anxiety hit the highest level, I seemed uninterested, when really, I didn’t understand the sensations my body was going through.
There were pins and needles, but then there was the feeling of your stomach clenching, fingernails digging into your throat, and having an out-of-body experience. Like you’re physically present and can see everything happening around you, but at the same time you couldn’t. Your eyes were a mile ahead—but your ears, your sense of smell—were far behind and it was hard to catch up.
Which is why it was easier staying silent.
It was better than overthinking every word or undermining myself for behaving a certain way.
“She has nothing to be jealous of,” Osama’s voice broke in a haze in the corner of my thoughts. Half-listening and half-distracted. “He flew to Switzerland to fight for her ring?—”
“Hewhat?” Why would he do that?
“Shit, pretend you didn’t hear that.” I opened my mouth to ask more questions when Osama looked past me with relief. “There you are.”
My breath caught on my throat.
Christian leaned against the threshold of the wall with hands folded over his chest, simply staring at me with an indescribable look.
“Food’s ready,” he gruffed.
“Thank god,” Osama slapped his hands on his thighs before all but running into the kitchen.
“Tell me how that man is twenty-seven,” Hasan muttered under his breath before standing up.
Umaima backed him up with, “The same way you’re thirty-three and a bore?”
Hasan shook his head while scratching his brow. “I’m not wasting a breath on you.”
Christian easily took Yunus from Hasan. My ovaries ached with the need to be filled with babies of my own.
Was it more surprising that Hasan did that without any care in the world or the fact that Yunus naturally leaned his head against Christian’s chest? He puked on him once and all of a sudden, they were best buds.
Yunus scrunched his nose when I lightly poked hischeek. I was filled with the sudden urge to nuzzle him with kisses.
A soft caress to my hand shook me to the core.
Christian stared down with fierce concentration, fingers thumbed over the blue diamond. “You have nothing to worry about.”
My breath hitched. I should pull my hand away and take a step back, but I didn’t.
And maybe I should ask about the ring, but my mouth had other plans.
“What am I worried about?”
