“There was an attack on a clinic today in Libya. Not OneVision, but two doctors were killed and several people injured. I just—it’s getting late and you aren’t here, and I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“I’m okay, Mom. I’ll be home soon.”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to have tea before we leave,” Adam says. “But now we should go back.”
I nod. “She sounds pretty shaken up, and with my dad not here . . .”
“I understand.”
Even though we’re in agreement that I need to get home, the drive goes too fast, and then we’re outside my building too soon. Adam walks me into the vestibule and summons the elevator. When the doors are closed behind us, he pins me gently against the elevator wall, his fingers sliding into my hair as he kisses me. He runs his thumb across my lower lip, then follows with his mouth, a new move that makes me shiver. And when his tongue touches gently against mine, spontaneous combustion seems not only possible but imminent. We are both breathless when he pulls slowly away, releasing me just as the doors open.
In the hallway outside my apartment, I rest my forehead against his and keep my voice low so my mom and the neighbors won’t hear. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”
“From Nic—from American films.”
“Wait. You were going to say Nicholas Sparks, weren’t you?”
“Aya made me watch them,” he protests, his cheeks coloring.
I laugh softly. “Them? Your sister forced you to watch multiple Nicholas Sparks movies?”
He silences me with another kiss, and how he learned doesn’t matter anymore. The elevator grinds to a stop on my floor and we jump apart as the doors slide open. Masoud pokes his turbaned head out to survey the hallway. His eyes narrow when he sees us standing alone and he says something in Arabic.
Adam rolls his eyes. “He says it is time for me to go. So . . . good night.”
He makes no move to leave, though, and I can’t hold back a smile. “Night,” I say. “Thanks again for today.”
The way his cheek dimples when he smiles back is nearly as good as one last kiss. “If I could, I would give you every day like this one.”
I slip quietly through the front door as Adam steps onto the elevator with the bowab, and I’m lucky I don’t have to be part of that conversation. My mom leaps up from the couch as I enter the apartment and gathers me into a python squeeze hug. Her breath rushes past my ear, as if she’s been holding it until I got home. She relaxes against me and I can almost feel her tension drain away.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Sometimes I think bringing you here was a mistake.” She untangles from me and scrubs the heel of her hand against her eyes, wiping away tears. “Putting myself in danger is one thing, but—”
“Mom, everything’s fine. I’m safe.”
“Maybe you should go back to Ohio.”
A small bubble of panic wells up inside me. My time in Cairo already has an expiration date that’s too soon. I don’t want to leave sooner. “You’re overreacting.”
“Maybe you’re right.” She strokes my hair back with her hand and kisses my forehead. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll talk about this more when your dad gets home.”
CHAPTER 21
Sleep? Ha! I’m still floating in a bubble of happiness as I log in to my video chat with Hannah. Except there’s a guy sitting beside her, sporting a buzz cut and impressive biceps, both of which surprise me. Hannah is usually attracted to guys who are kind of scrawny, but Vlad is built like a wall. He’s a great-looking wall, though.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she says. “I wanted you to meet each other.”
The truth is, I wanted to talk to her about today and about Adam. But as Vlad waves and says hello to me through the computer screen, Hannah beams at his profile like he’s the greatest thing since pizza. I know exactly how she feels right now, so I set aside what I want and wave back. “Hi there. I don’t mind at all.”
For the next ten minutes I play third wheel as they talk, mostly to each other. Hannah is gentle in the way she corrects Vlad’s grammatical mistakes and it’s clear by his effort to get everything right that he wants to impress her. Language is the only barrier between them and they’re overcoming it. I envy that so much.
From the other room comes the jingle of keys and the click of the front door closing. Dad’s here.
“Hey, Hann,” I interrupt. “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but my dad just walked in the door. Since I haven’t seen him in a while—”
“Go,” she says. “Love you to the moon.”
“And back.”
Dad comes into my room as I close the laptop. He looks exhausted from traveling but envelops me in an extra-big hug. “You’re up late.”
“I was just talking to Hannah,” I say. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“That makes two of us, kid.” He ruffles my hair. “I’ve missed you. Maybe while I’m home you can show me around?”
“Definitely.”
Sleep feels so far away as I fall into bed, and the day swims through my head like a dream I don’t want to forget. I wonder if Adam sleeping or if he’s thinking about me, too.
When I finally wake the next day, Mom has a plan in place. She’s taken the day off from the clinic and called Adam to drive us to the Khan.
Aside from a quick hello, Adam and I can’t really talk to each other in the car—at least not the things we want to say. I sit with my mom in the back, try not to stare at him in the rearview mirror, and hope my heart isn’t glowing like neon on my sleeve. When we reach the bazaar, I’m disappointed when Mom arranges a time for him to pick us up and sends him on his way.
As we walk through the Khan, my mom tells Dad and me about some of her more problematic patients—people who come with broken bones and open sores, rather than eye problems—but playing on repeat in my head is the image of Adam kissing me in the elevator. It isn’t until my parents go silent that I know I’ve missed something.
“What?”
“Are you even listening?” Mom asks.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m kind of hungry.”
“Caroline, you ate breakfast.”
“I know.”
Although I’m not actually hungry, we stop at a street vendor for a plate of fūl. I show Dad how to pinch the bean mixture between pieces of bread, and he likes the dish so much that (fortunately for me) he eats almost the entire order.
“So I asked if you had any ideas about what we might bring Manar tonight as a hostess gift,” Mom says as we resume our walk through the alleys and archways. “If we were in Ohio, I would take a bottle of good wine, but that won’t work here. And the guidebooks all suggest chocolates, but we did that for Ahmed when he was in the hospital.”
“Mrs. Elhadad was wearing a really pretty hijab when we met her,” I say. “Maybe we could buy her a scarf. Or . . . everybody likes dessert. Maybe a cake?”