“Wow, that was terrific,” Simon said as they rode the few blocks home. Blaise was beaming when they got out at her building and they walked across the lobby. It had been even better than she’d hoped. She loved being out with him.
“It was great,” she giggled in the elevator as he kissed her. He had been starving for her all night, and they still had to wait until Salima went to bed. “Nobody looked shocked or even interested that we were out together. I was afraid people would stare,” she admitted, “or make some rude comment.” She was enormously relieved and had had a terrific time with him.
“The only person who makes rude comments is my mother,” Simon said, as they got out on her floor and walked into her apartment.
“She’s going to go crazy when she finds out about us,” Blaise said with a look of concern. Simon looked totally relaxed as he took off his coat and left it on a chair. “What will you do?” Blaise asked him.
“About my mother? Ignore her. She’s made a big point all my life about how bohemian she is, and not bourgeois, while my father plays by no one’s rules and made a career of thinking outside the box. They have no right to get traditional now. They lost their right to that a long time ago, when they got married, and they’ve been pretty outrageous ever since. And what we’re doing isn’t outrageous.” They both changed their clothes and were sitting, chatting in the kitchen when Salima came home half an hour later, excited about the concert. She had no idea that Blaise was wearing makeup, but they were both wearing jeans.
“Hi, Simon,” she said blithely. “Wow, you smell good, Mom.” It never dawned on her that they had been out together. “Did you go somewhere?” Had she been sighted, she would have been able to read everything in her mother’s eyes.
“I went to a party at Adam Lancaster’s house. It was a nice Christmas party not far from here. He has a beautiful place and incredible art.” They chatted about the concert for a few minutes, and then Salima went to her room, Blaise went to do some work before they turned in for the night, and Simon said he had some e-mails to answer. But it was several hours before Simon came into her bedroom, and they curled up for the night and talked about the party again. Blaise lay in his arms and looked up at him. “I have fun with you, Simon.” More than she had ever had with any man in her life.
“I think that’s the idea.” He smiled back at her. “I have fun with you too. Thank you for taking me tonight. I felt so special being there with you.” He had been truly touched that she had included him in such an illustrious group.
“I wanted to,” she said, as she turned off the light and they cuddled. “I felt special being out with you too. It was nice, and no one looked surprised to see us together.”
“Why would they?” he asked, and she didn’t answer. They both knew. The fifteen years between them that his mother was so worried about. But no one at Adam Lancaster’s had cared. He was older than Blaise by twenty years, and his wife was even younger than Simon. Blaise had gone out to dinner with him once, and she had sensed that he thought she was too old for him. He liked much younger women. And now everything was reversed. It still surprised Blaise, and she was grateful that it didn’t seem to bother Simon. The evening had been a hit for both of them.
He fell asleep before she did, and she lay looking at him in the moonlight. She wondered if he’d leave her one day for a younger woman, who would have children with him, or go back to Megan. Anything was possible, but for now he was hers. She smiled thinking of it, and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 11
BLAISE MANAGED TO squeeze in her trip to Israel before Christmas, to interview the prime minister, while Simon and Teresa stayed with Salima. Simon called her in Jerusalem constantly, he was so worried about her. There had been a bombing the week before she got there, and he was terrified something would happen to her. She reassured him that she was fine and staying in a beautiful hotel with lots of security. She felt totally safe. And her interview with the prime minister went better than expected. She got back to New York a week before Christmas, in time for Harry’s annual visit to his daughter, which was as disappointing as it was every year. Salima deserved so much more.
They sat in the living room of the apartment, while Harry looked uncomfortable as Salima walked in, and when she sat down, she told him about her singing lessons, but he looked at his watch every five minutes as though he were in a hurry to leave. Salima looked beautiful, and she had kissed his cheek before she sat down with him and her mother. But he stiffened when she bent near him, and Salima could feel it. She wanted to tell him that blindness wasn’t contagious. Nor was diabetes. Her health issues had always made him acutely ill at ease, and even without seeing him, Salima knew it.