He nodded, the fatigue on his face obvious.
Carefully closing the sliding door behind me and drawing the curtains, I grabbed my robe and headed toward the kitchen, stopping to check my reflection in the mirror. My dark hair hung down my back in thick, messy waves. The blue eyes looking back at me were bright, and my cheeks sun-kissed.
I was definitely not looking like the poised, elegant, controlled girl I usually was. I appeared excited, wild, and a little frenzied. Making a deliberate effort to calm myself and smooth my hair, I proceeded slowly to the kitchen. It was empty. My parents must have left early. Then it hit me that it was Marcella’s day off, too. Perfect.
I called room service and placed my order, then headed back to the veranda.
“Have you soaked up enough sun?” I asked.
“I have taken in all I can for the moment.”
“Great. Let’s get you inside, then.”
He followed me into my room and watched with interest as I hastily grabbed a lacy black bra from the back of a chair and tossed it and my comforter in a wrinkled heap on the bed.
“So, your breakfast is coming, but that will take a half hour or so. I’m going to raid my father’s closet for some clothes for you. In the meantime, do you want to take a shower?”
“A shower?”
“Unless you prefer a bath?”
“Ah. Yes, I would enjoy a good scrubbing.”
“Great. So I’ll get the clothes, and the bathroom is just through there.”
Amon gave me a quizzical look before heading into the bathroom. I left him to his own devices while I scrounged up something for him to wear.
My parents’ bedroom and bathroom were even bigger than mine, and their closet was ginormous. I knew that Father had some old T-shirts and jeans in drawers in the back. I dug up a pair of sneakers, socks, a workout tee, sweatpants, and a lightweight jacket, and was headed back into my parents’ room when the thought occurred to me that Amon might need underwear.
Going through my father’s underwear drawer was not something I ever thought I’d have to do, but I was even more out of sorts when I considered which pair would best fit Amon. Finally, I settled on some generic boxers and headed to my bathroom.
When I returned, it sounded like Niagara Falls was thundering over a cliff in my room. All the fixtures were streaming water at full force. Amon stood by the sink staring at his reflection with fascination.
“This bathroom”—he tested out the word—“is unique.”
I turned off the water in the sink. “I suppose it is. Here are your clothes. Did you decide on a bath or a shower?”
“Which is the shower?” he asked.
When I pointed to the spa-style shower, which was currently pounding water from every one of its multiple body sprays and jets, Amon glanced in that direction but turned to the tub instead, reaching for his man skirt. He began playing with a tie on one side.
I held up my hands, spinning around, and involuntarily squeaked when I could still see him in the mirror attempting to disrobe. Quickly shutting my eyes, I said, “Whoa, there. Could you at least wait until I leave?”
“Why would you leave?”
“Um…a little thing called modesty?”
“Mod…esty?”
“Yeah. You know. Not showing what the Egyptian gods gave you. That sort of thing.”
“I do not understand. Then who will wash me?”
A burst of laughter came out before I could stifle it. “Uh, yourself?” With eyes still shut, I felt my way over to the sink and then from there to the door. “Amon, I realize you probably had nurses in the hospital giving you sponge baths and all, but I am just not prepared to take that step with you. Okay?”
I heard the unmistakable sound of clothing hitting the floor and then the swoosh of water as he sank into the tub. “Very well, Lily. You may keep your mod…esty.”