Page 71 of Angels Are Falling

The thought must’ve crossed his mind, too. An awkward silence befell us. The fire had settled into a low, persistent glow, the logs reduced to a smoldering lattice, and the heat that radiated was dense, almost medicinal. Outside, the wind picked up, hissing against the windows in short, uneven bursts.

Kai took control of the conversation before my mood could dip and steered it to my favorite topic—Lebanon. I let him change the topic because he had made me a nice dinner and waited to eat with me.

“What do you miss the most about Beirut?”

“I miss real Lebanese food,” I told him. “The homemade type.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Kibbeh. Oh, and I miss mujadara.” I tucked my knees up on the couch and cradled my wine glass to my chest.

“I’ve never made that before, but I can give it a go.”

“Teta used to make it for me.”

“Teta?”

I smiled fondly. “My grandmother. I always think of her whenever I think of Lebanese food.”

“Do you ever visit Lebanon?”

“Haven’t had the time.” Or the money until recently. “Plus, there isn’t anyone left to visit since Teta died.”

“What about your mom?” he asked tentatively. Because he was broaching the subject carefully, I assumed he already knew. Something must be wrong with me if I didn’t find the invasion of privacy as infuriating as I used to.

“We don’t keep in touch. She left Baba when I was young and got remarried. Never saw her again.”

Kai’s face was blank. If he felt sorry for me, he didn’t let it show. “Is that why you moved to America?” he asked.

I nodded. His expression remained attentive, making it easy to keep talking. “My parents split when I was little, and Baba had business here, so we moved.” It was the start of my misery. Lebanon was full of life and family. America was lonely. That was until I met Stefan.

I glanced at Kai and found him already watching me. No, not watching. He ogled me shamelessly, his gaze dropping to my lips every so often as if he had no idea what he wanted to do to me. It was so direct that I had to look away.

I glanced at the fire instead, which crackled loudly. Outside, the ocean was churning, constant and unhurried. The house was otherwise quiet. Or so I thought, right up until it wasn’t.

A small thump came from somewhere upstairs. Then the unmistakable sound of feet, plural, rapid, competitive, on the staircase.

“Amelie!” Bella’s voice preceded her appearance by approximately four seconds. She burst through the door in her pajamas and skidded to a halt on the hardwood.

“Oh my gosh. What are you doing up?” I looked at the wall clock.

“I missed you.” This came out less as an explanation and more as an accusation. They were asleep by the time I got home, and I didn’t tuck them in.

“We couldn’t sleep,” August announced from the doorway, with the tone of someone providing relevant context.

Jamie rubbed his eyes as they made their way to us, piling onto the couch.

I knew the kids were making it up. They looked visibly half asleep, and Jamie had arrived wearing one sock. It was evident they had been fast asleep and had woken to the sound of voices. I didn’t have the heart to scold them, though. They had been homesick, and after seeing the living room furniture, I realized how much I empathized with the feeling. On top of that, tomorrow I have to break the news that Kai and I will be taking them to the amusement park instead of Stefan. Although I hadn’t confirmed the plan, I knew I could count on Kai, something I could no longer say about Stefan.

“Want me to tuck you in?” I asked Bella.

“No, I want to play Pictionary,” was her counter.

“It’s late,” Kai told her in a gentle letdown voice.

Three sets of eyes turned to him with the unified, unimpressed expression of children who had decided bedtime was a construct.

“Please!” Bella pleaded.