“Her scarf?” Caasi rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why we’re coddling her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, and whose fault is that?”

  “Mine, I’m assuming?” Hadi frowned. He stood back and took in Willow’s outfit, but though his face remained stony, Willow saw his eyes were twinkling. He winked at her, bowed, and cleared his throat. “Willow. My apologies if you’ve felt at all uncomfortable. I might, indeed, have thought to brief you on the, ah, nuances of dressy casual.” He chuckled, low and sexy, and slid his arm around her waist.

  “Seriously?” Caasi scowled at Hadi, at his hand on Willow’s hip. “Every photo, every memory, there’ll be this great splotch of pink, and to you that’s just—”

  “Fine. In fact, it’s perfect.” Hadi’s tone was mild, but he’d gone tense all over. “Look where we are. Look around you. Our kids are making memories, and we’re, what? On the sidelines, while they hog all the fun?” He let go of Willow’s waist and took her by the hand. “Willow, you’re dressed for the carousel. Join me for a spin?”

  Caasi huffed, scandalized. Willow barely heard her. She strode off at Hadi’s side, her heart pounding in her throat. He’d come to her rescue like a prince from a fairy tale. She was beaming ear to ear, a great foolish grin, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  “Zak, Lale! Over here.” Hadi beckoned, and the kids came running, along with Faisal and a gaggle of cousins. Karima had followed as well, and she was first to the carousel. She found a horse and hopped on sidesaddle, her caftan fluttering in the breeze.

  “Is that safe?” Willow eyed her nervously, but Karima just shrugged.

  “It’s safe on a real horse, so I don’t see why not.” She winked. “Besides, if I did slide off, I’d just be standing on the platform.”

  Willow picked out a spotted horse, and Zak found a unicorn. Hadi chose a white charger, its carved head raised proudly. The music struck up, and the ride rattled to life. Willow leaned back and laughed as her horse rose and fell. The breeze was refreshing, the sun warm on her back. The children’s laughter bubbled around her. When she glanced at Hadi, he was watching her, his gaze warm and fond. He smiled and called out to her, but the calliope drowned his words.

  “What?”

  Hadi leaned out precariously, hanging by the pole. “I said, I think I was Lale’s age the last time I did this.”

  “You look like Prince Charming, up on your horse.”

  Hadi struck a pose, head up, chest out. Somewhere, a camera flashed. Lale gave a giggle. Willow looked past her, and she felt her heart soar. More parents had gathered to join in the fun, forming lines by the carousel and the pony rides. One of them even waved at her, a woman she knew slightly from Zak and Lale’s school. Willow waved back, and it felt like a start.

  9

  Hadi timed his walk across the rose garden so he’d meet up with Willow making her own trek across the grounds. She emerged on her terrace at the sound of the moon bell, and Hadi called her name. His pulse picked up when she waved to him, even more when she smiled.

  “Hadi.” She kissed him in greeting, soft lips on his cheek. “I wasn’t sure how to dress for this.” She gestured at her outfit, a simple flowered dress and a matching pink scarf.

  “What, for dinner with Karima?” He chuckled. “I can’t imagine she’d care. You could show up in PJs, and she’d just be glad you’re comfortable.”

  “Still, dinner in the willow grove. It does sound quite fancy.”

  “It’s the terrace outside my sitting room.” Hadi took her arm. “It’s not fancy, but it’s peaceful. Sheltered from the world. I can see why she picked it.”

  Hadi didn’t hurry. He guided Willow up the path, enjoying her chatter and warmth at his elbow. He always liked listening to her, having her near. An hour ago, he’d been angry, burdened down with frustrations. Now he felt light and eager with Willow at his side.

  “What’s that music?” Willow stopped in her tracks. “It sounds so familiar, but...”

  Hadi paused, then laughed. “‘Let Me Call You Sweetheart,’ I think. Karima loves her old movies and the tunes that go with them.” He opened the gate to let Willow through. “Huh. That’s strange.”

  “What?”

  “Where is Karima?” Hadi strode through the trees. The table was set for two, covered plates gleaming in candlelight, but of his sister he saw no sign.

  “She ditched us?” Willow peered through the French doors, into Hadi’s sitting room. “She’s not inside either. Unless she’s lurking in the dark.”

  “Wait. I think she left a note.” Hadi plucked it from under his plate, a fold of pink paper with a flower on the back. “Enjoy your dinner,” he read. “Surprise—Zak and Lale.” He frowned, bemused. “What, they tricked us?”

  Willow made a snorting sound. “Parent Trapped us, more like.”

  Hadi blinked. “Parent...trapped?”

  “It’s when kids set up their parents. Like on a date.” She’d turned bright pink, that cute little blush that stirred his inner devil.

  “So this is a date? I wouldn’t say no. Unless, of course—” Hadi uncovered his plate and sighed with relief. “No, no. We’re safe. They didn’t cook it themselves.”

  “Zak can make mac and cheese,” said Willow. “It might not have been so bad. But this looks delicious.”

  “Stuffed eggplant, oysters, pomegranate chicken—it’s like they Googled ‘romantic food’ and served the whole menu.” Hadi plucked a pomegranate seed and bit into it, relishing the sweet taste. “Not that I’m complaining. What do you say? Shall we eat?”

  “It would seem a shame not to, since they went to the trouble.” Willow pulled out her chair, and maybe by accident, maybe by design, dragged it closer to his. Hadi did the same, and when he sat down, his elbow brushed hers.

  “I brought pictures,” he said. “I thought we’d look at them later, but since it’s just us two...” He got out his phone and propped it on the soup tureen. “Mother took these at the party. She likes to joke, when she does that, she’s bottling happiness for later.”

  “Maybe it’s not a joke.” Willow paused, a bite of stuffed eggplant halfway to her lips. Her tone had gone wistful, her gaze dark and distant. “You go through life hoping the best’s still to come. But one day it won’t be, and—” She broke off, laughing. “Listen to me, all gloom and doom. Where’d that come from?”

  “I like that you’re thoughtful,” said Hadi. “That you care about people, why they say the things they do.” He tapped on his phone and the party album came up. “Oh, that’s just Caasi. Her dress. Her dress again.” He swiped past it. “Now, here—”

  “The carousel!” Willow leaned forward, suddenly animated. “Look at Zak. What’s he doing?”

  “Playing cowboy?” Hadi’s lips quirked up. “Look at this next one. He’s swinging his lasso.”

  “You know, I think he is. I didn’t notice that at all.” Willow was laughing now, her good cheer restored. “You’re smiling in all of these.”

  “Am I? So are you.”

  “That was right after you rescued me. After you...” Willow’s smile faded. “I was so sure I’d blown it. Sure I’d never live it down.”

  “What, the pantsuit?” Hadi retrieved his phone and tapped on the screen. “Just a minute. Look at this.”

  “What...?” Willow’s hand closed over his as she drew the phone to her. “These are all—they’re all wearing—”

  “You’ve started a trend.” Hadi clasped her hand. He wanted her close to him, sharing this moment through the warmth of touch. “You’re the Bride of the Planets,” he said. “Everyone wants to dress like you. To celebrate our—” He shut his mouth with a snap, but Willow seemed entranced.

  “The prophecy.” She scrolled down the page, to a shot of her and Lale. “I have to admit, I...it does feel quite magical, not the prophecy itself, but the way it’s caught on. The way they all seem so happy, cheering us on.”

  Hadi held his breath. Was she saying—what was she saying? His heart thundered in his chest.

  “I think I see what they’re seeing,” she said.

  “Oh?” Hadi’s mouth had gone dry.

  “We look like a family here, me fixing Lale’s hair, you teasing Zak. If I just saw that picture, I’d want that too.”

  “It’s not just that picture.” Hadi took the phone from her and set it aside, a new sense of certainty rising in his chest. “You said family means love to you. What’s love if not the little things, kissing the kids goodnight, joining in their games? And us, just the two of us, moments like this. Kisses good morning and kisses goodnight. If we keep doing this, one happy day after another, won’t we have a happy life?”

  Willow looked away. Her eyes were glistening.

  “Willow?” Hadi reached for her. “You could be my wife. You could be Lale’s mother. We’d be a family, the four of us, if you’d take my hand.”

  “I...” Willow closed her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to trap you. If I’m not good enough, if I’m...”

  Hadi felt cold, not at Willow’s withdrawal, but that she felt that way at all. “Not good enough?” He stood up quickly, then knelt at her feet. “I was trapped once,” he said. “In a marriage of convenience, to a woman I—” He shook his head. “I won’t speak ill of her. She was perfect in most ways, but perfect for someone else. Someone who shared her interests, someone who made her laugh. We tried, but we never fit. But with you, I could. I do.”

  Willow just looked at him, her heart beating so hard it made her pendant tremble. Hadi grasped her hand.

  “I’d court you anyway, if we’d met some other way. I’d choose you. Come after you. I’d want to make you mine.”

  “Why?” Willow’s color was high, her eyes fever bright. “Why would you want that, if not for—”

  “Don’t talk that way.” Hadi’s grip tightened. “You’re an intelligent woman, resourceful and brave. You’re kind. You’re thoughtful. You should be confident as well. You should see what I see in you, and you should say yes.”

  “I wasn’t raised to be confident,” said Willow. She had that faraway look again, but Hadi thought she seemed pleased. “I’ve fought to become that way, but it’s not always easy.”

  “I’d fight for you,” Hadi said. “With you, by your side.”

  “Then I’d marry you.” Willow’s eyes flew open, as if she’d surprised even herself. But she said it again, this time with conviction. “I’d say yes. I’d make you mine.” The way her voice dropped on mine sent a shock down Hadi’s spine. His skin went hot. His mouth went dry. His vision got brighter, then narrowed to just Willow.

  “Come inside,” he said. He stood and backed toward the French doors. Willow pressed close to him, trapping their clasped hands between their bodies. She rose up and kissed him, a sweet tiptoe kiss that coaxed a moan from his throat.

  “I’ve wanted you,” she whispered, her breath hot on his lips. “I’ve thought of you. Pictured you.”

  “Pictured me how?” Hadi reached behind him and bumped the doors open. Willow crowded him inside.

  “Swimming, for one,” she said. “Coming up from the water, all glistening in the sun. You’d have this line of hair here, and I’d follow it with my tongue, all the way to your...” She ran her thumb down his belly, over his pants. Hadi’s cock swelled in answer, and he hitched a sharp breath.

  “What else?”

  “I’ve thought about dressing you. Buttoning your shirt, then your waistcoat, then your jacket. Tying your tie, knowing later I’d—” She grabbed his tie and twisted it, reeled him in till his hips bumped hers. Hadi gasped, growled, and pulled free, and spun her to face the doors. Her scarf had come loose, and he brushed it aside.

  “I’ve thought about this,” he said. “Your hair...” He parted it with his fingers, down the back of her neck. Her skin was pale and smooth there, untouched by the sun. He kissed it possessively and imagined he was the first. Willow shuddered and exhaled, a low sound of pleasure. Hadi kissed lower till he came to her dress. He unzipped it and kept going, across her shoulder, down her arm. Willow shifted against him, her ass round and ripe.

  “I love your curves,” said Hadi. “Your hips, your thighs, all of you.” He slid his arms around her, to cradle her soft middle. “I want to kiss you here, everywhere, your fingers, your feet. I’d worship you...”

  Willow’s breath quickened. Hadi ran his hand up her torso to feel her heart race. His palm grazed her nipple, and she swayed where she stood. He did it again and she slumped forward, forehead to the glass. Hadi chuckled.

  “Sensitive?”

  “You know I am.” She took his hand and held it still. “Where’s your bed, before I fall down?”

  “Through there. The other room.” He led her there by moonlight, not bothering with the lamp. She stepped out of her dress and panties but didn’t lie down. She undid his belt, then unbuttoned his shirt. It slid down to his wrists, tangled his hands behind his back.

  “Sit down,” she said. “On the edge, so I can ride you.”

  “So, hold you in my lap?” Hadi shook his hands free and pulled her down on top of him. She straddled him easily, and he bent to kiss her breasts. Her skin smelled of clean soap and a hint of red wine. Hadi breathed her in, tasted her. She took his cock in her hand and guided it between her legs.

  “And you’re sure you can’t—I won’t get you pregnant?”

  “Positive.” Willow closed her eyes as she took him inside her. She was hot, wet, and welcoming, and he bucked up to meet her. Her thighs hugged his sides; her hair swept his shoulders.

  “I like this,” he murmured. “Holding you close like this, not a breath of air between us.”

  Willow pressed a finger to his lips, then slid it between them. He sucked, then nibbled, and Willow rode him slowly—long, languid strokes that left him burning for more. He burned all over, inside and out, the heat of their coupling stoking his passion. Willow arched her back, and she tightened around him, a quick, urgent flutter that made his cock jump. Her nails scraped his shoulders, and he bit his lip hard. He gripped her hips and leaned back, and they collapsed together. He rolled her over, pushed her hair aside, and her eyes were fierce and hungry.

  “Fuck me,” she said. “Do it like I could get pregnant. Do it like you mean it.”

  He pulled out all the way and thrust back in hard. He did it again and again, hard driving pumps that made her breath catch in her throat. She was close, he could feel it, the way she shook with each stroke. He was there too, an inch from the edge.

  “Willow...” He buried his face in her neck, raked his fingers through her hair. She stiffened against him and did a sort of breathless shriek. Her hips jerked without rhythm, and she turned her head and bit him. Hadi throbbed inside her, and his vision turned to white. Waves of pleasure coursed through him, shocks and aftershocks, and he collapsed in her arms, his breath coming hard.

  For a while, he couldn’t move, didn’t want to. Willow was stroking him, warm palms down his back. Her chest rose and fell like the calm morning tide. Hadi angled closer to whisper in her ear.

  “Was I everything you pictured?”

  “If I said ‘not quite,’ would you do it again?”

  “All night, if you asked me. All our lives.” Hadi nipped her ear. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No.” Willow kissed him, slow and lazy. “You were everything I pictured and a bag of Doritos. But I still want more of you. As much as I can get.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll give you.” Hadi rolled off her and kissed her again. He trailed his hand down her body, those curves that made his heart race. The night was still young, and he made himself a promise: by the chime of the sun bell, he’d have claimed every inch of her. He’d unravel her mysteries, all the spots that made her shiver, from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet.

  10

  Willow did a slow turn, taking in the glitz and sparkle—racks of scarves and dresses, shelves of shoes and bags and sunglasses. A cascade of chokers and earrings and pins and tiaras, all exquisite, none a patch on the ring Hadi had gifted her when they’d announced their engagement. She glanced down at it and felt giddy.

  The big ruby is my heart. My gift to you. Hadi had smiled, then, and he’d bent down and kissed her as if they were the only ones in the room. The diamonds are the stars, to guide us all our lives.

  “All our lives.” Willow touched her cheek where he’d cupped it. It hardly felt real, this whirlwind, their engagement. And now this room, a closet fit for a princess. She reached for a blue dress, but her stylist Leila shook her head.

  “Not that one,” she said. “Your publicist has asked you wear this.” She pulled out a white caftan shot through with gold. Willow stared at it—her publicist? The words sounded foreign, as if they applied to someone else. But Leila was smiling, bustling about the shelves.

  “You’ll love the shoes that go with that. They twinkle like you do, with diamonds down the heels.”

  “Thanks, Leila.” Willow took the shoes. They smelled of new leather and something else, something that made Willow think of Oscars night or the crowds outside the symphony. Wealth, maybe. Opulence. She set them aside. “If you’re done with my hair and stuff...?” She felt rude asking Leila to leave, but changing in front of her seemed worse.

  “I’ll go check on your fiancé,” said Leila. “Just text if you need me. My number’s on my card.”

  Left alone, Willow shut the door and stripped to her slip. She reached for her caftan, but stopped halfway, frowning. The gold thread was flashy—too flashy, she thought. Tonight was her debut as Hadi’s fiancée, their first outing as a couple. The press would be everywhere, vying to capture the Bride of the Planets, now a bride in truth. But this wasn’t just her night. It was the Teachers’ Collective show—art by teachers, about teaching. The point was to raise money, not show off how much she had.

  “Eyes on my paintings, not on my jewels.” She took the blue dress instead, a sleek, elegant number in a rich midnight shade. It felt right when she held it up, modest but dressy. She slipped it on, then the matching shoes, and admired herself in the mirror. She looked good, even glowing, the deep blue fabric bringing out her gray eyes. Her ring looked good too, dark fire on her finger. Hadi’s heart and his stars. Her own heart did a stutter step, a quick, nervous skip. Tonight would be Hadi’s first glimpse of her paintings—like sharing a childhood dream. A piece of herself, one she usually kept private.