“I would love to.”
Wasim took her hand and they walked to the water. They splashed around, jumped into the waves, and floated on their backs as they let the sun’s rays toast their skin into a darker hue. Their playfulness included Imani jumping on his back or Wasim tossing her into the waves.
Worry-free, Imani lost track of how much time they spent out there. Every time they grew tired, they went back to the shore, relaxed on the chairs, and rehydrated. Then they went back into the water for more swimming, splashing, and playing.
Her grumbling stomach caused Imani to say, “I’m ready to eat now.”
“I am, too, actually,” Wasim admitted.
They went back to the shore where they both covered up and Wasim called for their lunch.
Two female servants delivered a picnic basket filled with a choice of sandwiches, more fresh fruit, figs with creamy goat cheese, and more of the refreshing citrus water.
After they ate, their full bellies kept them relaxing on the chairs. Wasim reclined in his lounger and looked at her.
“What?” Imani said.
“Come here.”
“Why?”
“Come. Here.”
She wanted to be stubborn. To refuse him, but her feet moved of their own volition and took her across the small divide. She rested her knee on the edge of his chair, and he took her hand with the platinum and diamond wedding band.
“When I tell you to do something, you should do it.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be. My word is law. I am the ultimate authority in Barrakesch.”
“And you do want an obedient wife. How sad for you that’s not what you ended up with.”
“Are you sure, habibti?”
She tried to yank away her hand, but he tightened his hold and chuckling, pulled her down on top of him. As Imani relaxed and closed her eyes, Wasim smoothed a hand under the coverup and cupped her bottom. He squeezed her ass several times and she moaned, settling more comfortably on top of him before he patted her left cheek and left his hand there.
That was the last thing she remembered—his hand resting possessively on her bottom as she lay on top of him—before she dozed off.
She woke up when Wasim shook her awake. Groggily, she opened her eyes and saw the sun had already set.
“It’s time to go back to the house,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” Imani said, glancing up at the darkening sky.
He gave her a tender kiss, holding his mouth against hers for long time before he finally released her.
They slowly made their way back to the house, with her tucked into his side and an arm around his waist. After spending the day together playing, laughing, and even sleeping, being this close to him felt extremely natural.
While the helpers went down to the beach to gather up the items they’d left, she and Wasim took showers in separate bathrooms and changed clothes before the last part of the day commenced.
22
Their meal consisted of grilled trout, sautéed vegetables, and bissap, a popular Zamibian drink made from dried hibiscus flowers. They ate out on the balcony with only a few lights on, and votive candles flickering on the table. The sound of the Arabian Sea rolling forward across the sands over and over again was their background music.
As the meal came to an end, Imani dabbed her lips with the white napkin. “That was absolutely delicious.”
“Yes, it was,” Wasim agreed.
His eyes lingered on her face and made her feel a little shy. Her cheeks warmed and she cast her eyes down at her lap.
“We haven’t laughed and talked to each other like this in a while,” he said quietly.
“No, we haven’t.”
“I miss our friendship.”
“I miss it, too,” Imani admitted.
The chef, a tall heavy-set man with a thick mustache and beard, came out with one of the helpers behind him. “Will there be anything else, Your Excellency, Your Royal Highness? Dessert?”
Wasim looked at Imani, deferring to her, but she shook her head.
“Coffee, tea?” the chef asked, looking from one to the other.
Imani shook her head again.
“Nothing for me. Everything was delicious,” Wasim said. He waved a hand at the table and indicated they should clear away the dishes.
They did just that and disappeared inside.
They were alone for several minutes before Wasim asked, “Do you want to walk away from this marriage?”
She lowered her gaze. Walking away was the last thing on her mind, especially after today. Today gave her hope that they could have a normal relationship. Like him, she’d missed their camaraderie.
Wasim scraped back his chair and extended a hand to her. She took it and they walked to the grouping of wicker chairs with teal cushions. Wasim sat down first so that he was facing the sea and pulled her down against him.
“We need to talk,” he said. “I’m not very good at talking, but I can listen if there’s anything you want to say.”
Wrapped in his arms and not having to look at him, Imani felt comfortable enough to open up.
“I don’t want to walk away from our marriage.” She heard him breathe what could only be described as a sigh of relief. His hand stroked comfortingly over her hair. “But since we’ve been married, I feel like I’m little more than a body for you.”
“I can see how you would think that. I suppose it’s because ever since we kissed in Estoria, I’ve been consumed with thoughts of you. I’ve been consumed with thoughts of you ever since you stepped off the plane to attend graduate school in Barrakesch and Kofi told me to keep an eye on you. I should be angry at him for doing that because his request forced me to keep my distance. But Estoria changed everything, and there have been times when I wished I could cut off my hands so I wouldn’t feel the need to reach for you.”
Imani twisted so that she could see his face. “Wasim…” She touched a finger to his cheek.
He took her hand and kissed her palm.
Imani sighed. “I’ve been angry at you, and I want to explain. Obviously, I wasn’t happy about the way we got married, and then the only use you seemed to have for me was sex. We never talk about issues anymore or problems that we could solve together. You don’t share your work with me, and I don’t feel like I can share mine with you. Before I felt like we were equals, but now…” She shook her head as words failed her.
“You’ve always been so capable, I didn’t think you needed me to say or do anything to encourage you. You’ve always impressed me, Imani. Surely you know that.”
“I suppose.” She shrugged to downplay her need for his respect. “I know it’s unfair, but I worry that you’ll treat me the way my father has all my life.”
“Do you feel I’ve hindered you in any way?”
“No,” she admitted.
“I respect you. You are an amazing woman, and I am lucky to have you ruling by my side. Both of our countries are lucky to have you and your brilliant mind and caring heart.”
“Thank you.”
“But,” Wasim added, holding her attention with direct eye contact, “There is one thing you must understand. While I respect you and would never try to stifle you because I want you to thrive, you are my wife, and it’s my responsibility to take care of you. I take my responsibilities very seriously. Are we clear on that?”