“What?” he asked.
“Well . . . you’ve always asked me about the inspiration for the passion in my songs, the sexual tension and longing in my lyrics.” His expression stiffened in understanding. He glanced at the door behind her, to the foyer where Asher had just been standing.
“Him? You’re telling me your inspiration was him?”
“Yes,” Laila replied softly. A strange, mixed feeling of joy and sadness went through her, a sense of inevitability. “I think it always will be.”
• • •
After Rafe left, Laila went inside and shut the door quietly. She wasn’t surprised to see Asher standing in the hallway outside the living room. He’d already put on his jacket. He had her coat draped in the crook of his elbow. She approached him, unoffended that he’d assumed she’d still want to spend the night with him. She couldn’t imagine being separated from him in that moment, even though unspoken currents of emotion seemed to ebb and flow between them. He held up her coat and helped her put it on.
They didn’t really talk until Rudy had dropped them off at Asher’s condo. After they’d removed their coats, Asher grabbed her hand and led her down the hallway to the bedroom. He turned her to face him in the shadowed room.
“Did Rafe take it all right?” he asked her as he began to unfasten the button-down sweater she wore.
“As well as can be imagined,” Laila replied softly, staring up at his shadowed face.
“He wanted to be with you ever since he first saw you perform, didn’t he?”
She heard the edge to his tone. “It doesn’t matter. I was never really invested in seeing him romantically. It never felt right.” He silently drew her sweater over her shoulders. She wore only a bra beneath it. She caught the sweater with her hands and tossed it onto a chair in the bedroom suite. He touched her chest with his fingertips.
“What is it, then?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced up, unsurprised she couldn’t fool him. “It’s just something I said to Rafe, out there in that hallway,” she said in a hushed tone. “Something I hadn’t realized was true until I said it.”
“What?” he asked, his head dipping downward until their faces were only inches apart. She swallowed back the lump in her throat. If she could say it so simply to Rafe, why was it so hard to say it to him, whom it most concerned?
“I told him that as long as you were somewhere on this earth, even if it
was on the other side of the globe, I was never really going to be available to another man. I never really have been. Not for all these years.”
His gliding fingertips paused on the upper swell of her left breast. She saw his eyes glitter in the dim light as he searched her face.
“You said that?”
She smiled and nodded. Her eyelids burned when she closed them. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“I am, though.”
She glanced up sharply. “Why?”
“Because saying it,” he murmured, brushing the line of her jaw with his fingertip. “It’s like . . . stepping out from behind the curtain a little bit, isn’t it?”
She was confused. “I use the curtain for my professional life, because I want to protect my anonymity. It has nothing to do with my relationships. Nothing to do with you.”
His quirked his brow. “You use it to keep your family life intact, to protect the people you love, to remain respectful of your culture and way of life, and to live out your dreams at once. I’d say there’s some parallel.”
She shook her head, feeling agitated. She stepped away from him. “No. You’re wrong. I don’t just use the curtain to protect my family. I use it to protect myself. I don’t want to be anyone else’s property. I’m never going to spend my days at publicity events getting my picture taken thousands of times, or sending off tweets about every personal moment of my day. My singing is an important part of me, but it’s mine to share as I choose. I’ve found a way to make it all work, by singing behind the curtain.”
She saw his small shrug and doubtful expression. Emotion surged in her until it boiled over.
“What are you saying? Are you mad because I found a way to make music and performing a part of my life when I couldn’t find a way to do that with you when I was nineteen years old?”
“I’m saying that there are similarities with how you’ve managed your gift as a songwriter and performer and how you manage being with me. Not eight years ago. I understand you were barely an adult then. I’m talking about right now.”
Realization hit her. “You’re mad about the Detroit visit next weekend, aren’t you? I’m sorry about that, Asher, but it’s been planned for months. I didn’t get a chance to explain about it.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m mad, exactly. Disappointed, maybe. Don’t you see? You’re still doing it, Laila. Trying to live in both worlds, never really committing to either one.”