Page 48 of Forgetting the Enemy
“Don’t be mad at him, Vince. I made him promise me he’d do it.”
“Why would you ask such a thing of him?”
“Because whoever killed them cannot go unpunished, Vince. Surely you know that.”
He gives me a strange look and says, “I better go. I just got back last night, and I have shitload of cases to catch up on.”
“Oh. So soon?” I ask.
He gets up from his chair. “Sorry, love.” He kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll try to come by tomorrow. No need to show me out. I know the way,” he says and turns to leave.
“Okay. Bye, Vince,” I call after him.
With Vince gone, the quiet of the pool relaxes me. I should go upstairs and change into my bathing suit, but I’m too comfortable listening to the quiet ripples of the pool water pumping in and out of the filters. Before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep.
***
“Zaira.”
“Zaira, wake up.”
“Zaira.”
I slowly open my eyes, and standing before me is Michael. He’s got on a pair of jeans that hang low around his waist and a black T-shirt. I can see every ripple of muscle through the dark cotton fabric, and even in my sleepy state, I find I want nothing more than to touch him.
“Hi,” I say huskily.
“You fell asleep. You will get sunburned if you stay out here too long, Zaira. You should go inside,” he says. Sometimes, I swear he treats me like a child. Sometimes it’s endearing, but most of the time, it’s infuriating.
“Thank you for the advice, but I think I will stay out here a little while longer,” I reply defiantly.
He sits on the lounge next to me and says, “Why do you always fight me?” He sounds defeated, and instead of being angry with him, I begin to empathize. I’ve been pushing him. I’ve not made this situation easy for him, but he hasn’t made things easy for me either. But something is bothering him now, and I need to think about him instead of myself.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I don’t mean to,” I say.
“Are you happy here?” he asks.
Whoa!Where did that come from? I mean, he always makes sure I have everything I need, but now suddenly he’s concerned with my happiness? “Honestly?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Yes…and no,” I say.
“What makes you happy?” he asks.
“You, your family, the staff. Everyone here is so nice to me, and I feel like I am at home. I don’t feel like a guest. This is the only home I know.”
He nods. “This is your home. It will always be your home as long as you want it.”
“What do you mean by as long as I want it?”
He looks at the ground. “Because I believe there will come a day when you will want to be anywhere but here. You will run, and you won’t want to see me.”
I look at him curiously. “What makes you think that? You’ve been nothing but kind to me—well, except…” I let my words trail off. He knows exactly where I was going with that. I really don’t see the need to say it out loud.
“Is that what makes you unhappy?” he asks. He’s being tender, and for the first time, I’m seeing a vulnerable side to him. Something has got him worried, and he is searching for reassurances.
“What?” I ask.
