Of course she had.
She had also lined the center of the bed with pillows. He didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended. In the end, he flipped the sheets back and slid into the bed. And then he lay with his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling while his body continued to burn with inappropriate thoughts of her.
He did not know how long he’d lain there when she turned over.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was rough with sleep.
“Define okay.”
“You’ve had a shock tonight. You must be feeling so many things.”
“I am.” Because what else could he say?
She sighed. “I know something about how it feels to get devastating news, and I know it can be hard to make sense of it.”
“Do you?” He did not think she could possibly understand how he felt right now. Angry, frustrated, guilty, resigned.
“My father had a heart transplant five years ago. We weren’t sure he would make it.”
Kadir turned toward her. Out of everything he’d imagined her saying, this had not even made the top ten. How had she worked for him all this time and he’d never known this most important of things? She had never once mentioned it.
In fact, she never talked about anything personal. He realized, lying there in bed with her, a pile of pillows between them, that everything he knew about her was from observation and reading her personnel file. She was the person who was the closest to him on a day-to-day basis, who knew all his business secrets, and he didn’t know her at all. It was a stunning realization.
“You never told me this before.”
He could feel her shrug more than see it. “It was personal. And we don’t exactly do personal chitchat, do we?”
“It would seem not. And yet I wish I had known.”
“It’s not a secret or anything, but it’s not the kind of thing you just up and say either. There never was an appropriate moment to mention it before.”
“And is he well now?”
“Well enough, yes. But I really wasn’t trying to make this about me.” She sighed. “I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. I just wanted you to know I understand how difficult this must be for you. I’ve done a poor job of that so far.”
It was difficult, but not for the reasons she might imagine. Of course a part of him was upset that his father was dying. But their relationship had fractured so long ago that his father almost felt like a distant relative to him. He cared, but it wasn’t going to devastate him when the inevitable happened.
No, the most difficult part for him now was in making sure he righted the wrongs he’d done to Rashid. Which his father seemed determined not to allow. He could walk away, certainly. But he wanted his father to choose Rashid because it was right.
How could he explain any of that to her? She’d asked him earlier if he wanted to talk. But what would he say? How could he begin to talk about such deeply personal things with anyone?
“You are close to your father?” he asked.
She hesitated for a moment, as if trying to figure out what he wanted from her. Or maybe she was just confused by the randomness of the question. “Yes.”