Romance of My Dreams 2

“Have you ever been in love, Elle?”
Ellie gulped and blinked a couple of times before she managed to produce a weak smile. The sinking sensation in her stomach was familiar. Em never asked easy questions. She was too wise for her ten years. Part of it came from experiences a ten year old should never have had, most a result of her giant IQ.
Ellie should have known better than to choose a romantic comedy for them to watch tonight. She hadn’t expected the ten year old to like it, or to stay awake until the happy ending. When would she learn not to expect the expected?
If it weren’t for the brain inside, Em would have been a perfect Ellie “mini her,” though she was technically Eve’s mini her. Even if she and Eve had combined their IQ’s, it wouldn’t have matched Em’s. Had to have gotten her brains from her father, but Eve had taken that name with her to the grave. Her sister had only lived long enough to give her Em and say sorry.
Five year old Em had blinked once and said, “No, she’s not.”
Ellie had crouched in front of Em, lightly gripped the tiny shoulders and asked, “Why don’t you believe your mom is sorry?”
“She lies. She always lies.”
In those too wise, too sad eyes, Ellie saw, and so will you.
“I promise I’ll never lie to you, Emma. I will never, ever lie to you.”
Ellie had kept that promise, even though it had come back to bite her on the butt more than once.
“You have been in love,” Em said now, jerking Ellie back from the uncomfortable past to the uncomfortable present.
“I thought I was once,” she admitted, “but I was wrong. It wasn’t love.”
It felt like love. If it had lasted longer, she might have resorted to writing sad poetry about the wonder of it. No sad poetry was one of the good things about getting dumped. The other was being home to take Em’s SOS call. Within three days her twin had died and she’d become the guardian of a genius five year old.
Em wriggled against her, sensing a story. Well, why shouldn’t she? Ellie was a storyteller by trade.
“What was his name?”
Ellie didn’t want to say his name. She’d avoided thinking his name for five years, because it made her remember him and remembering him reminded her why she thought she’d been in love. When you’re twenty years old and the perfect male specimen looks at you like you are the only woman in the world, how do you not fall in love?
“His name was Rafiq and he was the son of a sheik.” Not to mention the son of a female dog.
Hair like dark silk, bottomless, equally dark eyes, perfectly constructed from top to bottom. His lightly accented voice was both deep and husky. He’d even smelled yummy. If chocolate didn’t smell like chocolate, it would have smelled like Rafiq. And if one noticed such things, which she didn’t, his hands and feet were big. Remembering him sent a shiver down her back and then back up again, even after five years without sight, sound or scent of him.
“What happened?” Em’s voice sounded dreamy.
Two dates, one perfect kiss and a ruthless dumping.
“We went out a couple of times and then he stood me up.”
Em straightened and looked at her with round, shocked eyes. “He what?”
“He made a date with me and then didn’t show up.” He did more than that, but that wasn’t for ten year old ears, no matter how large the brain connected to them. Ellie could still hear the woman giggling in the background when she made the mistake of calling him. He didn’t just dump her, he stomped her with both of his big feet. And she never knew why.
“Punk.”
“Indeed.” At the time it happened it felt wrong and even now, five years later, she couldn’t believe he’d done it. She’d been young and inexperienced in the ways of sheik’s sons, but how had he fooled her so completely? Her instincts had let her down so badly, she hadn’t trusted her judgment about men since. If she hadn’t found out he was a jerk, he’d have been in position to hurt Em, too. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t ever let that happen.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.” That answer wouldn’t satisfy Em. Only a bad end would come close but guys like Rafiq always landed on their feet. “Last time I read anything about him, he was getting married.”
She’d made sure she didn’t accidentally, or on purpose, see the gossip rags after that.
“What did you say his name was?” Em’s face scrunched up with determination.
Ellie sighed. “Rafiq. Rafiq bin Ahmed bin Saleh Al-Farid.”
It sounded so romantic. Maybe she’d fallen for the name, the idea of being in love with the son of a sheik? At least he hadn’t gotten anything from her but a kiss—which might explain the dumping. He was probably use to women delivering more than kisses.
“Do they live in the desert?”
“No. They’re exiled or something.” But had somehow managed to leave home with their millions. Or it might have been billions. And buckets of arrogance.
“Don’t you ever wonder about him?” Em’s voice was thoughtful, a little too thoughtful.
What went down her back now was the chill of fear. When Em started thinking, anything could happen.
“No.” Then she grinned. “Besides, if I found he was ¬deliriously happy it would destroy my faith in karma.”
Em chuckled, the rich, child-like sound a reminder that she was still a child. It was easy to forget with her giant IQ complicating the mix.
“But there’s been no one since,” Em pointed out, bringing the IQ into play with a child-like ruthlessness.
“Not true,” Ellie shot back, already prepared for this one. “I have you.”
For just a minute she tried to imagine Em and Rafiq in the same room and almost shuddered.
Something flickered in Em’s eyes, a hint of uncertainty that quickly vanished.
“Anything wrong, Em?”
Bland green eyes met hers. “Like what?”
“Like maybe you’re worrying that I don’t have a guy?” Ellie smoothed rich, auburn strands back from the small triangular face.
“A guy wouldn’t be much use,” Em said. “It would need to be the right guy. Maybe we should try match.com?”