‘Do you really want to stay here tonight?’
‘Just try and get rid of me at this point,’ she muttered. She threw my shirt over my shoulder then surveyed my chest and arms as her eyes grew darker. I caught her face in my hands and kissed her. Lucien slid off the couch and walked towards the back door, shooting a look our way as he passed.
‘Come upstairs,’ Molly commanded softly. She tugged on my hand, and I rose to follow her. As we climbed the stairs, I thought how much I liked having her in my house. I knew she was out of place there in my very ordinary surroundings, just as I was in her startlingly luxurious home. Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter.
On Monday morning when it was time for Molly to leave, I kissed her at the door. When she took a step away towards the town car at the kerb, I caught her hand and drew her back for one last lingering kiss.
‘Text me?’ she whispered.
‘Can I call you instead?’
‘Okay, Grandpa,’ she teased. ‘Why don’t you just send me a telegram? Or a note via carrier pigeon?’
‘I’ll text you,’ I promised. I kissed her one last time, then watched as she left. The second her car was out of my sight, I missed her. I wouldn’t interrupt her work day, and I knew she wouldn’t interrupt mine, but the minute I left my office that afternoon I was going to find out when I could see her again.
Four amazing weeks passed before I was cleared to return to the field. But for the distraction of Molly, it would have been a frustrating, maddening time. But while I was grounded, those weeks belonged only to Molly and me. We didn’t talk about our relationship – we didn’t need to. We just enjoyed each other’s company. That was okay, and it was more than enough.
During that time no one in the world knew about us. We were ensconced in a bubble of necessary secrecy, and the isolation of that was the catalyst for an intense intimacy. When Molly had finished her long working day, and I’d finished mine and spent some time at the gym, we’d find our way to each other and the day would finally come alive.
As our affection grew, we were increasingly cautious about being seen too much in public together. On some occasions when I wanted to wow her with a romantic date, my options for planning generally extended only as far as to where to get takeaway food and how to find a suitably private venue where we could share it. And there were time constraints too – Molly worked insanely long hours, starting early and finishing late every single week day.
She communicated with me a lot with damned text messages, her words drenched with emoticons and punctuated with string of x’s and o’s that grew or shrank depending on how her day had been. So I had to compromise a little, and then I compromised a lot – until eventually we were in one continuous text conversation throughout the working day. I’d scroll back up the history every now and again and stare at it incredulously, unable to believe I had finally succumbed to a hated technology that I’d resisted for so long. Each time I did, I’d feel grateful – the text string was a visual reminder of her presence in my life – the silly icons a reminder of her affection.
It’s a remarkable thing to be a part of a connection that is so satisfying that you feel lucky whenever you consider it. This made me want to try harder and to be better – I wanted to bring my A-game to every hour with Molly.
Sometimes, I struggled to find a balance between offering her support and challenging her about her relationship with her father. There was no doubt that she was unhappy with the direction her career was taking, but I could see that she actually revered Laith as much as she resented him; I could also see that she was too afraid of losing his approval to admit that last part even to herself.
The day that I was finally cleared to return to the field, I saw the doctor at lunchtime and Brad and I had flights booked to return to Libya by the time I’d left the office. I texted Molly to tell her and she suggested we meet for dinner at Totally Thai to celebrate. Afterwards, we shared a bottle of wine on the balcony off my bedroom.
We had only had a handful of nights apart in the month we’d had together, but as my trip drew near, I almost regretted allowing so many nights with her in a row. I wasn’t used to missing someone, and I was almost nervous at the thought. Molly didn’t seem at all concerned about the impending change to the way things were. Was she ready for a break from the somewhat full-on relationship we’d tumbled into, or did she not understand what my trip would mean for us?
I wasn’t sure which alternative was worse, so I put off a discussion until late on Sunday afternoon and then I tried to make it a casual, natural conversation as I packed my suitcase.
‘I have a satellite phone,’ I said quietly. ‘But…’
‘I know you won’t call me,’ Molly said. I glanced at her and she shrugged. ‘I get it.’