Chapter 24Janie

Chapter 24 Janie

With Emir handling more than half of my morning chores, we were back in the dining room in half an hour, preparing eggs on toast. I’d insisted on a light breakfast so I could focus on baking something for Cem and Aria’s visit. I couldn’t believe how much had happened since the last time I’d seen my friend. This was the longest weekend of my life.

Emir cleaned up our breakfast dishes, casting dubious glances my way as I ransacked the cupboards to find ingredients for spicy apple muffins.

“You don’t have to cater for them,” he said.

“Isn’t that the Turkish way, though? Catering and cleaning like your life depends on it?” It was a phrase one of my Turkish interviewees had used years ago.

Emir grinned. “We’re in New Zealand.”

Seeing that smile on his face, my insides did a series of flips. I focused on mixing the muffin batter. “I know. I’m just getting ready for the culture shock.”

He stepped closer, forcing me to look up. “Are you planning to follow me to Istanbul?”

Logic caught up with my flighty heart, and I laughed. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m all high on… you know.”

His smile faded and my laughter fizzled out. We couldn’t make any plans or promises.

His gaze snagged on a photo on the fridge. Me and my boys on the day we’d moved to Napier. I’d asked Shaun to take the photo after a lunch in town. He’d hated the food, and complained about everything, and I’d been happy he wasn’t in the picture, ruining our fresh start with his foul mood. Alex and Josh both smiled—the sort of polite half-smile they knew would be passable with me. They looked so handsome in their new shirts. With all the expenses on the farm, I’d have to work twice as hard to provide for them. I couldn’t let them down.

“Tell me about them,” Emir said softly, following my gaze.

I shook my head and smiled. He didn’t need to know about my kids. This was a fling. Whatever he’d told me. Whatever I’d felt last night… nothing could change my reality.

“They both look like you. The younger has your eyes,” he said, studying the photo. “What are they like?”

“Alex is eighteen. He’s artistic, easy-going… an extrovert. Josh is only thirteen. He’s a thinker. Very smart. Quiet. Always thinking of others.” I sighed, looking at the photo. “I miss them so much.”

Emir rubbed my shoulder. “When are they coming to visit?”

“In a couple of weeks.”

“I bet they miss you.”

I smiled. “Alex would never admit it. Josh does. He’s my baby.”

Emir brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes sad. “I know you can’t leave, but maybe you can visit? Maybe I can come back. We won’t give up hope.”

I nodded, staring at him, hopelessly trying to freeze time.

When I had the muffins rising in the oven, Gru shot towards the door, signaling the arrival of our guests before anyone even knocked on the door. He was such a good boy. What had happened during the break-in? I couldn’t see any signs of harm or injury on him, yet he’d somehow ended up outside. Had my dog been trying to protect the house or just wagged his tail at the criminal?

Judging by his reaction to Aria and Cem, he’d likely drooled from enthusiasm.

“Welcome!” I called from the kitchen as Emir opened the door to his brother holding several paper bags.

“We brought decorations,” Aria announced, placing two more bags on the dining table. “And muffins.”

I gave her a pained grin. “Excuse me but I’m baking muffins!”

Her mouth hung for a second, then stretched into a smile. “We’ll have a muffin tasting! Yours will win and you get a trophy.”

“I can live with that.”

As Cem and Emir unpacked the decorations, Aria met me in the kitchen, peering into my oven. “They smell amazing. So much better than store bought. Store bought are awful.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her, smiling to myself. “How was the premiere?”

Aria let out a long, dreamy sigh. “Incredible. Seeing myself on the big screen in a real film like that… I can’t even describe that feeling. And seeing Cem! He did so well. He’s going to get more English-speaking roles because of that, I know it.”

“What about you? Do you want to do more acting?”

“Yes… and no. I’d do a film like that any day, but I’m not desperate to take any role, you know? I’m happy to wait for a good one.”

“As you should!”

After a moment, she gave me a concerned look. “How are you? The break-in sounds scary! I hope Emir is looking after you.”

All the blood in my body surged into my cheeks. For a moment, I was convinced our sexy times were playing on my forehead like a dirty film cast by a tiny projector. But as I tried to wipe the wildly peculiar expression off my face, I realized she’d only picked up on a vibe. A strong one, though.

“Oh, my God, Janie. Has he… did he… sorry, I’m not sure why my mind’s going down these tracks.” Aria fanned herself, giving me an apologetic look.

“It’s okay. It’s been good to have a man around.” I focused on finding oven mitts, to buy time.

We’d agreed on telling Aria and Cem, but now I felt reluctant to do so. Whatever was happening between us felt too fragile and too important. I was afraid putting it into words would flatten it, making it sound insignificant or cheesy.

Aria looked over my shoulder at Cem and Emir, and her eyes widened. It took me a moment to realize what she was reacting to. It wasn’t Cem pulling turquoise paper ribbon out of a bag, unravelling it as he went. It was Emir, laughing.

Aria turned to me in shock. “What have you done to him?”

I decided to start with the easy one. “I… gave him a massage. Helps with his headache, apparently.”

“He had a headache? It was all a headache?” Her volume rose.

“All what?”

“You know… that miserable fuckwit act.” Aria’s eyes flicked back at the men, busy untangling the ribbons, until Cem simply ripped the thing in half.

I peeked into the oven and decided I liked my muffins a little gooey. Before I met him, I’d known Emir as the side character in Aria’s love story. The heartless manager who had stood in the way of their happiness. But that wasn’t the Emir I knew. They felt like two different people, and I found myself oddly offended on his behalf.

“He’s been in pain,” I said, setting the muffins on the cooling rack.

The middles sank a little. I’d probably have to call them lava cakes. And forfeit the trophy.

A sudden burst of alarmingly loud Turkish made us both turn around. Cem talked to his brother, his eyes wild. His animated hand gesturing reminded me of road rage incidents I’d witnessed in the Middle East.

My throat squeezed. Had he told his brother about us?

“What are you guys shouting about?” Aria asked, cautiously approaching her fiancé.

Cem blew out a breath, eyes wide. “Just… our parents. Mom called me when she couldn’t get hold of Emir. They’re supposed to be enjoying Lake Tekapo but all she talks about is the wedding.”

“Engagement party,” Aria corrected.

“No, the wedding,” Cem insisted. “She’s having a hard time with… stuff.”

“Hi! I’m Stuff,” Aria raised her hand, eyes cast at the ceiling.

“It’s not you. She likes you. But she keeps asking where we’re going to live and where the grandchildren will grow up and what language they will speak and what religion they’ll be and if they’ll become ‘foreigners’.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s exhausting!”

“Not to mention a little uncomfortable.” Aria winced.

“What did you tell her?” I asked Cem, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Cem shrugged. “I just deflect. I keep reminding them they’ll always have Emir.” He jerked a thumb at his brother. “He might still marry a Turkish lady and have Turkish babies, right?”

Emir glared back, unimpressed.

Aria laced her fingers, leaping forward to theatrically pray to him. “Please, Emir! You’re our only chance. If you let the ladies see that smile of yours, you won’t be single for long. Just make sure you save the smiles for the Turkish ladies.”

Emir scoffed, back to his usual frown. “Why do I have to smile for anyone?”

Aria turned her palms up to the ceiling. “I suppose the Turkish ladies don’t mind. I’ve been watching these Dizis with Cem and there’s this one mafia saga where the guys never smile. So, you’re good. You remind me of the lead actor…”

I turned around to plate the muffins and hid my smile. I couldn’t stop imagining Emir as a Turkish mafioso. He had the looks.

Cem lowered his voice. “Seriously, though, man. We need you to give them some hope. Call Mom. Remind her that you’ll be around, that they’re not losing you and maybe hint that you’re open to dating in Istanbul.”

“Like, a teeny, tiny hint!” Aria chorused. “Five percent chance you’ll someday marry and have babies.”

I took a breath, trying to relax. I was getting a decent ab workout from all the dating and baby mentions. I brought the muffins to the table. “Can I take coffee orders? Emir?”

“I don’t want babies in any country,” he grumbled. “You do it!”

Cem sighed. “I’m not asking you to have a baby. I’m asking you to give them hope, remind them that you’re there for them.”

“Why do I have to be there for them? Can’t you? Split the year in half—summer in Turkey, then summer in New Zealand.”

I held my breath as Emir and Cem entered a staring match. Air sizzled.

“Oh, the joys of international relationships.” I smiled, attempting a light tone I couldn’t quite deliver.

Aria gave me a sad smile, tucking into one of the muffins. “Ahhh. I needed this,” she mumbled, mouth full.

“But you’re the responsible one!” Cem finally cried. “You’re always reminding others… me… It’s not like you’ll ever move away from home. You have the shop, and the… why are you being like this? Stop torturing us! We’re just trying to keep the peace and get through this engagement party and the wedding without Mom losing her mind.”

Emir lifted a shoulder. “Parents cry at weddings, that’s totally normal.”

“You know Mom. She won’t just dab her eyes with a tissue. She’ll bawl and cause a scene.”

“And I’m responsible for her emotional stability?” Emir stared back defiantly.

Cem groaned from frustration. “I swear… You act like a dick most of the time, and I ignore that, and I remind myself of your good qualities. You’re dependable. You’re smart. You’re always there for Mom and Dad. You can turn that stupid shop around. If it was up to me, I’d sell that shit, but you know what it means to Dad. Are you saying I can’t count on you anymore? That we can’t count on you?” He glanced at Aria, drawing strength from their union.

Aria took another bite of the muffin, opting for silent chewing. A wise choice.

Emir looked away, twisting a paper ribbon around his finger until it was as fat as a toilet paper roll. “I’m just… considering my options. Am I not allowed to have options? Only Cem the movie star can take off and fall in love and change the course of his life?” He looked up, jutting his chin forward, voice cracking a little.

The hurt and confusion on Cem and Aria’s faces made me feel ill.

Emir’s gaze landed on me.

Not now. Please. I don’t want to be the reason. They’ll hate me.

“I’ll make coffee,” I announced brightly, skipping to the kitchen.

On the way out, I grabbed one of the muffins, and grimaced as my teeth hit the gooey middle. Not just gooey. Undercooked. Why was I so impatient? Was that why I’d slept with Emir? Because I couldn’t wait until the chemical imbalance in my brain settled and good sense prevailed. And now I’d caused this drift between him and his brother, and probably his parents.

How could we ever tell them about us? Did we have to? A hundred years from now, all this would be irrelevant.

Solid logic, Janie.

Emir followed me a beat later and stood by the coffee maker. I knew he was waiting until I had the milk steamer hissing to disguise our voices.

When the rhythmic whistling filled the room, he leaned in. “We need to tell them. They’ll just keep pushing, expecting us to play along and… I don’t want to have babies in Istanbul!”

“No,” I hissed over the steamer. “They’re stressed about the engagement party and the wedding. If we tell them, they’ll be even more stressed. They’re already worried about how your parents will take it. Imagine what they’ll say…”

“My parents will wail and moan no matter what. I’m not sacrificing—”

“This party is not about us and I’m not going to make it about us. I can’t do that to Aria.” I gestured at the dining table.

Aria babbled about creating some sort of backdrop and garlands to hang outside on the morning of the party. I could tell how nervous she was, but also excited. Maybe she’d be one of the lucky ones who only did this once and lived happily ever after. Either way, this was about her and Cem. I’d make sure we stayed in the background, much like those streamers hanging on the wall.

Emir sighed. “Okay. We won’t tell them, yet. But after the party…”

He trailed off, looking even more distraught. Because we both knew that was our deadline. He’d fly back the next day.

“I’d change my flights but there’s a fee, and Mom and Dad will need help—”

“Please take these.” I handed him two coffees. “I’ll make two more for us and then we’ll devote our time to party decorations. Okay?”

He took the coffees, grumbling something under his breath.

I sighed, watching his receding back. He was tough. Proud. Obstinate. Yet, I knew he’d heard me. He would do as I asked. He’d respect my wishes. A dangerous warmth poured through my entire body, and I shivered. Damn it, Emir! He was supposed to be a disagreeable, miserable sod, who happened to be hot. He was an incredible lover—perfect fling material. Yet everything else about him had caught me off guard, and I already knew one thing. This was going to hurt.