Omar woke up early the next morning. Something nagged at him, had been there all throughout the previous evening, following him into his dreams, and now into the next day. He blinked, staring up at the white ceiling of his penthouse, silk sheets splayed around him.

Was it the deal? He and Marian should have heard from National by the close of business the day before, but amid all their sightseeing, neither had noticed that the call never came. He sighed heavily, draping an arm over his eyes.

He wished Marian were at his side. Was that the nagging feeling? He pushed to sitting, staring at the bedside clock. Six a.m. Too early for a Saturday. Especially considering how wiped out he’d been after their day together: laughing, exploring, making love…

His belly cinched. There it was again. The feeling. But was there any other way to describe what he had done with Marian? He might not love her, but they certainly weren’t fucking. They made love—there was something intimate and loyal there. Even if neither had spoken the words.

He pushed out of bed, rubbing at his eyes on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t spent the night again, fearing a scandal. But every part of him wanted to stay with her, to wake up with that soft body in his arms, those curls pressed to his face.

Omar grunted as he peed, feeling both alert and sleepy. He stumbled back to his bedroom, intent on getting a few more hours of rest before beginning his day. He had no plans, but he had a feeling something would lead him to Marian.

He lay in bed, drifting in and out of daydreams that segued into sleep. He jolted awake just before eight when a text message came through.

“You awake?” It was Marian. He scrambled to answer it, typing out a fast response.

“I am.” He sent the message, staring at his words. There was so much more he wanted to say. A moment later, his phone rang. He smiled as he answered it.

“Good morning, beautiful.” It felt good to say those words and mean it.

Maran laughed on the other end of the phone. “You certainly woke up in a generous mood.”

“I’m being honest, not generous,” he said, fluffing the pillow beneath his head. “Why are you up so early on your day off?”

“Well, I had an idea and thought you might like to join.”

“What’s that?”

“Sightseeing!” Marian’s tinkling laugh delighted him. “Wanna come with?”

“Yesterday’s sights weren’t enough for you?” He rolled out of bed, heading for his closet. Of course he’d go. It was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

“I couldn’t see too many sights through the orgasms,” she said. “But I appreciated the effort.”

He chuckled, pulling a linen shirt from the closet, followed by a pair of light gray pants. “Should I come soon?”

“As soon as you can,” she purred. “And anywhere you’d like, too.”

He paused as her words sank in, then he laughed. “Naughty girl.”

“I’ll be here. We can have breakfast together before we go, if you’d like.”

He smiled, excitement prickling through him. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”

When Omar strolled into Marian’s hotel, she was already waiting for him in the hotel’s restaurant. She waved at him from a corner table, bread plates and glasses of orange juice crowding the table.

“I got you an American breakfast,” she said. “I kinda miss it. So I thought we could share it.”

He pulled back his seat, admiring the spread. A waffle stared up at him from the center of the table. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”

“Have you ever had waffles before?” She pointed her knife at the puffy monstrosity. “There’s a certain technique to eating them. It includes a half pound of butter.” She licked what looked like jelly off the knife.

Omar unfolded the napkin over his lap, taking a sip of the orange juice at his setting. “Yes, but only once. And I’m certain that I didn’t eat them correctly. They were plain.”

Maran’s jaw dropped. “Waffle faux pas!”

The two chattered happily as they barreled through the breakfast spread. Marian kept him laughing and eating, way more than he normally would at such an hour. He liked sharing in this slice of her home culture…and even more, he liked just being with her. Besides, he was inclined to do almost anything she suggested. If she’d implored him to take a bite of a stale rice nugget, he would have done it.

“I’m stuffed,” he said after finishing off the plate of eggs. He folded up his napkin, setting it on the empty plate. “We better start sightseeing, or else I’ll fall asleep.”

“Agreed. So I have a list of must-sees.” Marian produced a little slip of paper, smoothing it over the table top. “Based on some research and my own morbid curiosity.”

Omar studied the list, which had at least fifteen items on it. “The catacombs.” He noticed but didn’t mention the butterfly garden on the list. That connection again…

“I’ve heard so much about them! Anyway, since you’re the resident Minarak native, you have to be the tour guide.”

“Of course. I promised.” He flashed a smile, snatching up the paper. “I like this. I don’t think I’ll even tell you where we’re beginning.”

They rose from their seats, Marian’s jaunty smile practically a drug for him. “Just don’t lead me down any dark alleyways.”

“Not even for my own selfish purposes?” They fell into step beside one another as they headed for the front doors. He wanted to sling an arm around her, but there were too many eyes at this hour in the grand hotel foyer.

“Those are the only allowable purposes,” Marian said, knocking her shoulder against him. They shared a private smile, one that sent a jolt through him. This was going to be as good a day as yesterday, if not better. And his companion had everything to do with it.

The doors slid open as they approached, and a puff of dry summer air reached them. He paused by the curb as he texted his driver to pull up. Marian slid a pair of sunglasses onto her nose, surveying the day with her hands on her hips.

“If there’s one thing I accomplish in Parsabad during my stay,” she said, “It’s going to be brokering the damn deal. But the close runner-up is going to be a slew of cringe-worthy tourist photos, so I hope you don’t mind a selfie stick.” She patted the oversized purse on her arm with an evil grin.

Omar laughed as the car rolled up. He held the back door open for her, more excited than he’d ever thought possible at the notion of a selfie stick. It was one of those things that didn’t figure into his regular life. But with Marian at his side, it only felt right. And the idea of documenting this day, their time together, this brief and joyful respite from his regular life, was a welcome one.

He spoke quickly to the driver then slid into the back seat with Marian, his arm immediately settling over her shoulders. He grabbed her chin between his fingers, tilting her head to look back at him.

“Why are you the only woman who can make a selfie stick sexy?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Well, it depends what pictures we take, but…”

He brushed his lips against hers as the car rolled into motion. They had a whole day and a whole list ahead of them. And already Omar wished it would never end.

* * *

The two spent their day gallivanting through Minarak from east to west, north to south, imbibing every manner of touristy sightseeing opportunity available. The catacombs started off their morning, followed by a morbid tour of a famous cemetery, climbing to the cupola of a supposedly haunted unused mosque, lunch at a traditional Parsian buffet, tasting the chocolate treats of three separate famous dessert shops, and the butterfly garden. Her delight as the flying bits of color flocked to her cup of nectar had in turn delighted him. They ended with dinner and an old-timey Parsian movie with no subtitles, totally at Marian’s insistence.

By the time the movie let out, it was after dark. They walked down the sidewalk in a pleasant silence, Omar feeling entranced by the events of the day. The movie had left him with some interesting things to ponder, one of the most potent being the realization that he’d felt relaxed all day.

When was the last time he could say that for himself? He’d never felt so at ease with anyone before—certainly not a lover—not even Anahita. Their entire day had passed in a delightful blur, leaving him wanting more time with Marian, more of her.

Her arm rubbed against his—their version of holding hands for the day. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“That movie.” He scuffed his heel against the cement sidewalk as they strolled. “I wish there had been subtitles. It really made me think.”

“I could tell there was some heavy stuff going on,” Marian remarked, the glinting streetlights highlighting the streaks of gold in her hair. “But I was mostly focusing on the sounds, and that impeccable 1960s makeup.”

Omar shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, those two guys were trying to save the rich man the whole time. He wanted to commit suicide.”

“So who was the beautiful lady?”

“His dead wife.” Omar cleared his throat. “She wanted him to move on. But he just wanted to die to be with her.”

Marian nodded as they strolled, her gaze on the ground. “Interesting.”

A long silence followed them, one that felt painful somehow. Omar wasn’t sure if the things on his mind were also on Marian’s.

“You know, it’s a well-timed movie choice,” she said, her voice breezy. “The man chooses to move on. Just like you’ve moved on from your past, too.”

Her words echoed inside his head, each repetition making him feel queasy. She nudged him after a moment, smiling up at him.

“Right?”

Omar swallowed a knot in his throat. Moving on wasn’t in the plans, not this soon, not so fast. Guilt flooded him, made his knees wobble for a moment, and he inhaled sharply, trying to regain the lighthearted mood from only moments ago.

“I don’t know.” He fished out his phone, messaging his driver to meet them. The day had already come to a natural close—and this was more of a sign than ever that he needed to retreat. He’d gone too far. He at least needed the solitude to think about what he was doing—what he was feeling. Nothing made sense suddenly. Hearing the truth from her lips felt like an unexpected punch in the gut.

“Are you calling the driver?” Marian looked a little crestfallen.

“I did.” He forced a smile. “It’s getting late, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” She looked around, gnawing at the inside of her lip. “We did accomplish a lot from the list.”

“Over ninety percent of it in one day, which is more touristy things than I’ve done in my entire life.”

A smile flickered on her face, as the car pulled into a side alley in front of them. They walked there quietly, a heaviness between them. All your fault. He’d ruined the good vibes in one fell swoop, but what else could he do? A simmering mood encroached quickly, and he needed the alone time to figure it out.

Inside the car, Marian nestled up to him. He slung his arm around her shoulders, but didn’t press further.

“So.” She tilted her head back to look at him, her brown eyes illuminated by the passing lights of downtown. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else on the agenda?”

He smiled but couldn’t find the words to respond.

“The hidden agenda?” She poked his side, waiting for a response. “Any agenda at all?”

He feigned tiredness, looking over at her with a regretful smile. “I don’t think we should pursue the hidden agenda tonight. I need to be up early tomorrow.”

Her face fell, which lashed at him. “Oh. Well, that’s fine.” She pulled away a little, turning to look out the window. “What’s going on tomorrow?”

“I have a few family obligations,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. Every Sunday he met with his brothers and father and other relations for lunch. Annabelle would be there, which he remembered only after the words had left his mouth. Marian could find out about the Sunday family meet-up easily enough. But wouldn’t it be nice to bring her along?

His stomach twisted violently. He needed to process this conflict alone.

“Well, thanks for the great day.” She patted his knee like a mother would to a small child.

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing her knee. He didn’t want this to be the end of their day, but it had to be. “I had a great time.”

Her eyes were full of doubt as she looked at him, his own confusion reflected back to him.