Not this time. “It’s been three years, Zakai. Whatever you came for—”
“I meant what I said. I only came because I’m proud. I wanted to see you win tonight.”
“Oh.” My forehead furrowed in confusion and I reached behind me, laying my hands on the low wall. “Well I likely won’t win. The competition is very steep.”
“You’ll win,” he said with surety. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip, glancing away. “I’ve read all your books.”
I tilted my head. I hadn’t expected that and the knowledge set me on edge, or rather, closer to the edge I was already situated upon. Teetering uneasily. At risk of falling over. And I knew from experience how far the fall would be. At the knowledge that he’d read my words, something akin to insecurity made my skin feel hot. I brought my hand to my diaphragm, pressing, as though I could infuse myself with the air I suddenly seemed to be missing.
Zakai’s lips tipped in a soft smile. “Fantasy books set in a magical desert,” he mused. “Ahmad the giant, kind and wise. Dinati, the snow queen, with eyes that see past tomorrow’s sunrise. Bertha with the golden heart . . .”
I looked away. “I suppose you think it’s silly—”
“No. God, no. I think it’s amazing. You found a way to make it beautiful. Sundara. But then, you always could.” He watched me for a moment, and for some strange reason, I got the sense that he was seeing me with new and different eyes. Maybe he could tell I’d finally grown up. Without him. Despite him. “I couldn’t see it then,” he said. “I only cared that you did. But I saw the beauty when I read your books. You made me see it with your words.”
“I . . .” My eyes shifted away. I felt naked before him in a way I never had before though he’d once known every inch of my skin. “Thank you.”
“Karys—” He reached one hand out to me but I took another step back.
“I really have to go, Zakai,” I murmured. “The ceremony has probably already started.” Despite my insistence, I remained still, fearful of walking nearer, unsure whether I was more afraid that he would touch me or that I would reach for him. The magnets within us wouldn’t allow for anything else. I’d learned that painful truth. More than once.
But he nodded, stepping back, creating a wider berth. “We need to talk,” he said.
Panic sluiced in my veins and I nodded, a jerky movement. He was right. Of course he was right. Whatever he thought we needed to discuss, I knew my time of reckoning had arrived. “I’ll give you my number,” I murmured. “Call me tomorrow.”
He looked briefly surprised. Had he expected me to make it more difficult? Of course he had. And perhaps I would have.
He reached in his pocket, handing me his phone. I input my number quickly, handing it back, taking a deep breath and smoothing my dress over my hips.
Outside the door, I heard my name being announced, muffled with distance. My heart jolted and I walked quickly around Zakai, unlocking the door and rushing into the ballroom.
“Karys Grant for Throne of Sand and Scorpions.”
I walked toward the round tables where guests sat as quickly as my heel-clad feet would carry me.
“Oh my goodness! There you are!” June said, ushering me forward. “I was just coming to search for you. I was afraid you were going to miss it! You won, Karys!”
I squeezed her hand, slowing to a walk as the people at the tables turned my way, mustering a smile as I took the stage. Nervousness fluttered in my belly. So many eyes. All glued to me.
I smiled at the woman who handed me the award, turning back toward the audience. Eyes, so many eyes. “Thank you. Thank you all,” I said shakily, gathering my courage.
As I spoke, I felt the prickly heat of his gaze, catching sight of his singular form at the back of the room.
And as I finished my short speech of thanks, I saw him slip out the door and turn out of sight.
**********
“Congratulations, baby! I knew you were going to win.”
“Thank you, Ayana,” I said, smiling as she took me in her arms, squeezing me tight before letting go. The memory of standing on the stage as all the other authors, publishers, editors, and those who loved stories as much as I did applauded, still seemed like a magical dream. Once again, an audience had looked upon me, and for a moment, standing up there, I’d faltered. But then I had realized something very significant. This time, it was for an accomplishment, not the objectification of my naked flesh. This time, it was because I’d achieved something valuable, using my mind, and not my body.
I set the award on the counter, kicking my heels off with a grimace and then padding to the refrigerator where I grabbed a bottle of water.
“Damn that Carly,” I said, sitting on a counter stool and rubbing my sore feet. “She forced me to wear these torture devices.”
Ayana laughed. “Speaking of evil Carly, those came for you right after you left,” she said, pointing behind my back. I turned to see an enormous vase of flowers on the sofa table in the living room.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, a ribbon of affection winding through me.
Carly had become like a sister to me, and when she traveled, which was somewhat frequent given she now helped dress some of the Hollywood stars for events, I felt her absence. We all did.
“She was so sad to be in L.A. and miss your big night.”
Ayana wasn’t exactly sorry to have been home though. I grinned.
“How was he tonight?”
“Perfect, as usual.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re blinded by love. No three-year-old is perfect.”
“Oh please, softie. You’d throw yourself into moving traffic for that perfect little person.”
I dipped my head in concession. “Guilty as charged,” I said, smiling around a swallow of water. But as I placed the bottle on the counter, my smile dissolved.
“What is it, love? I thought you’d come home glowing after tonight, and yet you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I huffed out a small breath. That didn’t feel so far from the truth. “He was there tonight,” I murmured.
Ayana froze, then turned slowly from where she’d been folding a kitchen towel and hanging it over the dishwasher handle. “Him,” she repeated. “What did he want?”
I shrugged. “I’m not completely sure. He’s going to call me tomorrow.”
“Well. You wondered if this day would come.”
Yes, yes, I had. Part of me had hoped it would. Part of me had prayed it would not. As always, with Zakai, my feelings were deeply conflicted. Of course, now there was someone else to consider.
I recalled how different Zakai had seemed tonight. There was a . . . steadiness about him that I’d been unprepared for. Of course, the last time I’d seen him, he’d been drunk. But tonight he’d declined even a glass of champagne. Did he plan to apologize for the way he’d treated me? Did I still crave that? I rubbed my temple. Would it matter? An apology wouldn’t heal the scars he’d inflicted. Zakai’s possible regret wouldn’t erase the terrible memories of his rejection. Once I’d thought nothing would. Now I knew that my peace was in my own hands.