“Remember what Carter said,” he teased. “Do not wake the baby.” Sophie laughed, reminding Michael once again what a joy it was to make love laughing.
His hair hung over his forehead as he moved above her, and she reached up to dig her fingers into his black curls. She loved his hair, loved having it in her fists when they made love. She tugged on it, making him grunt with pleasure. It was sweet, as slow as they could make it, but never entirely without urgency. They’d yet to leave behind the terror that had come with nearly losing one another.
Michael moved more purposefully, and Sophie matched his tempo. Mindful of the family above them, she cried out his name softly as she climaxed. He followed, gritting his teeth and gasping.
“I do not think we woke anyone up,” he finally said, flashing his dimples.
“We can try again, if you’d like.”
“Give me a few minutes, please. I am not as young as I used to be.” She laughed, and they lay in silence for a bit.
“Today was so good,” she sighed. “I’m glad he decided to do this now, before I leave.” He said nothing, but she felt the tremor that ran through him. “I know. I don’t know how I’m going to stand it either.”
In six weeks, Sophie, Anjali, and several other members of Refugee Crisis International would go to Kenya to work at a refugee camp at the country’s southern tip. Thousands of Somali people had settled there, fleeing the civil war in their country. The political situation there was very unsettled, and western aid workers were frequently the target of violence. She couldn’t have picked a worse place to go, in Michael’s mind. But that’s where she was needed most.
Sophie knew Michael talked to his therapist about her impending trip. She didn’t blame him for being worried. She was, too. The thought of being separated from him for eight weeks nearly made her crazy. She was glad to be going with Anjali this time. It would be good for her to be with her best friend, and good for Michael and Will to have time together as well.
“Let’s not talk about it tonight.” She pulled back, tipping his face up to see it better in the dark. “Yes?”
He pulled her tight into his arms. “I love you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you, mana mila. I am so afraid of losing you.”
She smiled and switched to Orlisian, as she often did when she wanted the conversation to be more intimate, the connection between them to be that much stronger. “Do you remember what you said to me that night in the park before you went away to Orlisia? I said I was afraid to lose you, having already lost you too many times before. Do you remember what you said to me?”
He nodded. “I told you that you had never lost me in all our days together. That you had always had me.”
“Always. We will always have each other. I will come home to you, as you came home to me.”
There were no words in either language for Michael to answer with, for both of them knew that there were no guarantees in life. But there was always hope.
So they made love again.
In hope.