Michael waited for Sophie in his bed when she emerged from the bathroom. She felt weird climbing into bed with him in his family home. Her parents definitely would not have allowed this. But as soon as he pulled her into his arms under the duvet, all the doubts melted away.
“No more crying.” He kissed her eyes. “We have had enough tears. I am here. We are together.” His lips moved down to her nose and cheeks to her mouth. He kissed her slowly and sweetly, making her forget that his parents were near, making her forget everything else except the two of them.
“I had a nice night.” She rested her head on his chest. “Although I think your mother might be rushing things.”
He laughed, tangling his fingers in her hair. “You think? I am surprised she did not have bridal magazines laid out in the living room after dinner.”
She ran her hand down his stomach. “A little lower would be very nice, mana mila,” he said throatily, nudging her hand farther down his body. She touched him lightly through his shorts, but was too freaked out by their proximity to his parents to do more.
“Don’t you find it…you know…weird to do this? I mean, with your parents right down the hall?” She expected him to burst into laughter, but instead, he turned his head on the pillow and smiled.
“A little,” he admitted. He bit his lip as she continued to touch him. “I have never brought a woman home to my parents, so I have found the whole evening rather stressful.”
Sophie dropped her hand and stared at him in shock.
“Oh, please do not stop.” He moved her hand back. “It feels so good, yes, just like that.” He sighed in contentment.
“Never brought a woman home to your parents?” she repeated, stunned. “Never? But you took Mirielle to Orlisia for Christmas!”
“Must you mention her name? My parents were not there at the time Mirielle visited. And I did not bring her here, to my family home.” He saw the shock on Sophie’s face and sat up. “What? What have I said?”
“I’m so surprised. You have a European home. I thought you would’ve had all your girlfriends sleeping over since the time you were sixteen.”
“No.” He chuckled and put his arms around her. “I told my parents a long time ago that I prefer to keep my private life private.” He smiled. “I also told them that the day I brought a woman home for dinner to meet them and sleep in my bed under their roof would be the day they would know I had met the woman I wanted to spend my life with.”
She tried very hard not to start crying again. “I love you.” She kissed him.
“I love you, too,” he replied, his eyes soft in the darkness. Then he smiled imploringly. “Now maybe you could return your hand to where it was before?”
Chapter 19
February 28, 2014
Sophie awoke to an empty bed the morning after dinner with Michael’s parents. The clock said it was nearly 10 a.m. After showering, she went downstairs dressed in the jeans she had brought in her overnight bag and the button-down Michael had had on last night. It smelled like him.
She found him in the kitchen unpacking a paper bag. Fresh-squeezed orange juice, fruit, croissants, smoked fish. Her stomach growled as her eyes roamed over the food. “Did you work up an appetite last night?”
He grinned, saying everything that needed to be said with his eyes. She sat down at the table as he poured her a cup of strong black coffee.
“What day is it?” She smeared raspberry jam on a warm croissant.
“Friday,” he replied. “Do you have things to do? I would love to spend the day together.”
She wondered if this was what the previous summer would have been like had he not gone to Orlisia, and they could have been just two people falling in love. “I would like to spend today with you too. But I should also go to the office. Would you like to join me?”
Sophie badged into the Refugee Crisis International office. The office manager, Cheryl, jumped up with a big smile.
“Sophie’s here!” she shouted, and people hurried over. But the usual greetings died away when they saw the tall, tense-looking man beside her.
“Hi, Cheryl.” She hugged her indispensable office manager. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead, but I left on short notice.” She saw Cheryl staring over her shoulder at Michael.
“This is Dr. Michael Nariovsky-Trent. He was imprisoned in Parnaas. Not a great place for anyone, but especially not for an ethnic Orlisian and an American citizen.” A murmur ran through the group. They understood what it meant to be an American on the wrong side of an international crisis. “I accompanied him back to New York.”
“How’s the mission?” one of the program managers asked eagerly.
“Fantastic. The coalition model is working well, as I’m sure you’ve heard.” She described what they had accomplished, the experience of working with people they had once considered competitors. “Anjali and Will are fine, and send their best to everyone. Unless the UN orders them out earlier, they plan to return to America in about eight weeks’ time.”