His mother’s mouth trembled slightly. Guilt swept through him, the feeling annoyingly familiar. “Just to celebrate your birthday, then. You are still our son. Aren’t you?”
“Of course. If you still want to be my parents.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“So it will just be a pleasant lunch? No talk about the trust fund or my job?” Asher pressed.
His mother lifted her chin. He could see her mind whirring, trying to come up with a loophole.
“Mom?” he asked warningly. “And you’ll remind Dad of all that?”
“Oh, all right. Fine,” she snapped. She glanced at him skittishly. “I’m just worried about your father and you. It’s not right, this falling-out you’ve had. I don’t want you to disappear to the other side of the world again with things the way they are.”
“I don’t want that either,” Asher admitted honestly.
He spied her anxiety, her vulnerability . . . a fragility that was usually masked so well behind her cool indifference. He glanced quickly at Laila while his mother fussily rearranged her purse on her forearm. One look at Laila’s compassionate expression, and he knew Laila had noticed it too.
“You’ll come, then?” his mother asked crisply, her armor back in place.
“I’d like to bring Laila.”
His mother’s fiddling fingers froze. He was aware of Laila looking up at him in disbelieving surprise, but he didn’t meet her stare. He just continued to stroke her hip as a means of assurance.
“I don’t think I can,” Laila said. He looked down at her. “My agent is in town, and I have a rehearsal scheduled tomorrow at twelve thirty.”
“Can I come and watch?” he asked earnestly.
She glanced over at his mom, clearly tongue-tied as to how to respond.
“What about the next day for lunch, then?” his mother snapped before Laila could reply. Asher just raised his eyebrows expectantly as he looked down at Laila.
“Um . . . I’m so sorry, but I’m busy then too. But please . . . don’t not go on my account,” she told Asher.
“I’d like Laila to be there,” Asher told his fuming mother calmly. “Is there any other day we can make work?”
His mom looked scandalized and furiously tight-lipped. Laila appeared totally confused. He prompted both of them until they came up with a day they agreed upon.
“Friday for lunch, then,” Asher finally said. “It’s all settled. We’ll be there, Mom.”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Asher,” Laila said quietly once the door had closed behind his mother and they were alone.
“Why not? I want them to meet you,” he said, walking past her and picking up his phone to check messages.
“They won’t want me there. Did you see the way your mother was looking at me?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “I did. I’m sorry about that,” he said honestly.
“You invited me to go with you to get back at her for being rude,” Laila said, her mouth tightening into an angry line.
He tossed down the phone onto the desk and walked into her. He took her into his arms and dropped a kiss on her mouth, softening it from the anxious frown she wore. “You’re right,” he admitted. “But only partially,” he interrupted when she opened her mouth to scold hm. “Mostly, I want them to meet you because they’re the only family I have. I want them to know the woman who is so important to me. It’s probably just like your cousin Driss wants your family to meet his fiancée. It’s not so strange, Laila.”
He took advantage of her lips parting in disbelief and leaned down to taste her.
• • •
Later that afternoon, Asher hung up his phone and checked the time. He’d just gotten off the phone with the Gazette’s managing editor. Apparently, his father hadn’t been successful in his threat to call in a favor and have Asher’s new job taken away from him. Avery Sennet, his new direct boss, sounded as firm and enthusiastic as ever about Asher reporting for work in London in a few weeks. Sennet’s secretary had even gotten on the phone and described some details about how he could pick up the keys for the flat they’d arranged for him to lease near Leicester Square.
Sennet had given him some good news during the phone call. Maybe that news had contributed to Sennet’s enthusiasm ab