Page 54 of Earned Husband

“Most people would.” He grinned. “Look, stop borrowing trouble, bro. You like her, everything is going smoothly on the business front, and you’ll get through meeting all those relatives. You just need to relax.”

“That’s pretty sensible advice coming from you.”

Unfortunately, my brain had never shown much interest in sensible advice when there were hypothetical scenarios available to analyze instead.

Isaac pushed away from the counter and clapped me on the shoulder before picking up the box of plants. “That’s because out of all of us, I’m the most sensible one. You guys just never see it because you’re too busy worrying about things that are out of your control. You’re going to be fine, man. Just take a deepbreath and untwist your panties. You’ve got all your chargers. You’re ready.”

I didn’t agree with that assessment, but instead of arguing, I walked him out, relieved that I would have the last couple hours at home to myself. Once he was gone, I poured myself a stiff whiskey, slowly made my way through the house to check I had everything, and continued overthinking all the information I had about Egyptian marriage customs until it was time to leave in the earliest morning hours.

After what felt like forever, my driver turned off the main highway and onto the access road that led to the executive terminal of the private airport Alex and the others had hangars at. I’d flown from here often enough that the novelty had long since worn off, but I still dreamed of one day having my own jet here.

Sometimes, when our schedules demanded it, Thayer chartered jets for us, and on occasion, I’d chartered one myself if the trip justified the expense. I’d also flown with Alex and all of his brothers pretty often, but that wasn’t the same as having my own.

One day, that was what I wanted. And it wasn’t even that I just wanted the luxury of flying in my own private jet. I wanted to own one simply because it represented that I could. That despite everything life had thrown at me or how spectacularly my father had fucked up when he’d stuck his dick into a gold-digging criminal, I’d overcome the adversity and built myself into a man who could afford something like that.

Maybe it was just because of all the time I’d spent in the Westwoods’ company, but I desperately hoped I’d be landing here in my own plane one day. For tonight, however, one of the GlobalStar jets was already waiting for me, ready to take me away.

Potentially to begin building a life neither Deja nor I ever could’ve imagined the first time we’d met in Jane’s kitchen over a forgotten bottle of scotch.

CHAPTER 24

DEJA

Iwoke up to noise filtering into my consciousness. A lot of it, and not the same kind that drifted through our house every morning. This sounded more like an invasion.

My eyes flew open when the piercing screech of furniture being scraped across marble rang out from downstairs. My heart started pounding. Someone shouted instructions and someone else shouted the exact opposite thing. A vacuum cleaner whined to life, only to be drowned out by what sounded like a delivery trolley rolling through the foyer.

It was at that exact moment that I remembered what day it was. Colin was flying in, landing sometime today.

The last vestiges of sleep instantly abandoned me and my hand shot out on autopilot, reaching for my phone on the nightstand. There were no new messages waiting for me, though. But that wasn’t surprising. We had committed to writing letters, and while I wouldn’t have traded the anticipation of finding one in the post for anything, it was a pretty inconvenient system for coordinating international travel.

Colin might be over the Mediterranean right now or he could already have landed. The romance of handwritten correspondence lost most of its charm when one party wascrossing continents and the other had no clue when to expect them.

When yet another crash rang out from downstairs, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot across the thick carpet, phone in hand. I pressed my ear against the door when I reached it. “That arrangement goes next to the staircase!”

“No, not that one! The white lilies!”

“Where’s Farah?”

“Which Farah?”

A loud groan rang out and I finally opened my door to find the corridor full of movement. Housekeepers rushed past with polished serving trays, two of my cousins who didn’t live anywhere near Cairo raced around a corner carrying flower arrangements, and one of my uncles was talking loudly into his phone.

No one seemed to notice me at first, so I took a few tentative steps out of the room and wandered to the balcony overlooking the foyer. When I looked down at it, however, I blinked a couple times, convinced that I might still be asleep.

Overnight, the foyer had been transformed into a scene that belonged in the pages of one of White Water Lily’s luxury campaign books. There were possibly thousands of flowers, towering arrangements framing the sweeping staircase overflowing with white roses, orchids, jasmine, and every other variety of bloom I adored.

Garlands had been wrapped around the railings and crystal vases covered every table, making the entrance hall look like a botanical garden. I inhaled instinctively, leaning over the railing as I tried to absorb every detail.

“My darling!”

I jumped when I realized I was the darling in question. Aunt Nawal, one of my mother’s sisters, had spotted me. Her eyeswidened after they’d swept across the length of my body, and she shrieked. “Deja!”

Every head in the foyer turned upward. An army of my aunts narrowed their eyes as Aunt Nawal pointed at me with genuine horror overtaking her features. “You’re still in your pajamas!”

“I just woke up,” I objected, but she was already charging toward the staircase.

“The man is flying halfway around the world for you!” she admonished loudly. “You should’ve been ready to receive him hours ago.”