Page 90 of Troy Story

“Good. Your father will be pleased to hear it.” Her mother stood up. “When we have time, I’d like to hear more about this children’s book series. Unfortunately, I have a busy schedule today. I’m meeting with a curator from the Archaeological Museum, then I’m off to visit a colleague at Istanbul University. But I have one last thing to say.”

She nailed Stuart with a flinty glare. “You’re like a son to me, but if you hurt my daughter, I will make certain you end up in a pit deep in the Sahara Desert. Do you understand?”

He flinched. “Understood. But I’d never hurt Dusty. I love her.”

“I’m sure you do, but men make stupid mistakes. Don’t be like that.” She raked her gaze over the two of them. “Tomorrow night, I’m dining with a few prominent Egyptian archaeologists. Dusty, I’d like you to be there, and Stuart, you could benefit from the networking.”

Dusty was about to protest but thought better of it. “Sure. Just tell us when and where.”

“I’ll text you the details. Please dress decently. I don’t want the two of you looking like you just rolled out of bed.” With an arch of her brow, she added, “I’ll let myself out.”

Dusty said nothing until she heard the door close. Then she burst out laughing. Somehow, she’d found the courage to tell her mother that she was giving up grad school, pursuing art as a career, and sleeping with Stuart. And she’d escaped unscathed.

Stuart wiped his forehead. “Your mother is still as intimidating as ever. I can’t believe she threatened to throw me in a pit.”

“She’d never do it for real. Only if you break my heart.”

He took her hand and pulled her up beside him. Placing a tender kiss on her forehead, he regarded her with affection. “I wouldn’t. I love you, Dusty.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

Enfolded in his arms, she looked over at the Sea of Marmara, shimmering in the distance. The world was wide-open, just waiting for them. Next week, they’d be back in Boston. And in November, they’d get to go to Amsterdam. After that—who could say? Troy? Another adventure? Either way, they’d be writing the next chapter of their story together.

Stuart bent down and whispered in her ear. “Want to go back to bed?”

“Absolutely. But then we’re buying a rug.”

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