In the Interlude

Chapter 43 - Three is a crowd

"Not again." Aïcha sighed and shook her head at her stupidity. Why did she always end up lost despite having detailed directions printed on a piece of paper and Google Maps on her phone?

Yesterday, as they were slowly drifting to sleep, Tom had asked if she'd like to attend a staged reading in which he was performing along with other theatre actors. "It's called Shakespeare and The Nature of Love, and we'll be reading scenes from various Shakespeare plays about, well, love and passion and..." He reached out for his phone and showed her the details.

Someone should do a documentary instead about Tom and his love for Shakespeare. She smiled to herself as she scrolled through his phone.

"You could attend as a regular guest and meet me afterwards backstage?" He added, his eyes full of hope, "we can leave from the back door to avoid fans and, well, anyone with a camera. A car will be waiting to drive us back home. So we should be okay."

"Looks great, and I would love to see you on stage..." Aïcha gave Tom back his phone and shifted in bed pulling up the sheets to her neck with both hands. She turned to her side facing him.

"But?" Tom asked, rubbing her arm.

Her eyes unable to meet his, she shrugged. It wasn't that she didn't want to go. It was quite the opposite. She didn't want to live in as a recluse and pretend she didn't know him whenever they were out in the public eye. As if they were not together. But she couldn't just let the world know they were together. The media attention would rip her, and them apart. Of that she was sure.

"Aïcha." He put a warm hand under her chin, lifting her face towards his. "It would mean the world to me if you were there," he stopped and caressed the little dimple at the corner of her mouth. "But I understand if you don't."

"Let me think about it," she finally said and kissed his hand, then his lips. A small yet deep kiss.

Tom put his arm around her waist to bring her closer and pressed his body against hers. Breathing him in, she kissed him again, slowly, taking her time. He made a growly sound low in his voice and his hand moved down caressing her hip, her thigh but soon Aïcha couldn't stifle a yawn. And then two. "I am sorry Tom. It has been a long weekend."

"Never mind love," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm just glad you're here. Turn around," he added, and she turned to her other side. Tom curled up behind her, skin against skin, his chest pressed to her back, his hand on her waist. "Goodnight darling."

The following day, Aïcha hadn't made her mind yet about attending the performance. She had had a long meeting with Chloe, the Account Director on her project, preparing for Tuesday's presentation. They didn't even stop for lunch, and when she finally emerged from her office, it was already four in the afternoon.

A voicemail from Tom awaited her.

"Hello darling, it's me. About tonight, there's a ticket and a badge for you at the ticket window and a seat with your name on the front row, just in case. Hope you'll make it. Otherwise, see you when I see you."

And so here she was again, in the middle of a busy street not far from Westminster, wondering which way to go. It was almost seven in the evening and the performance was starting in less than fifteen minutes.

A group of loud girls ran past Aïcha squealing with excitement. Tom seemed to be the object of their excess energy. She smiled and followed them.

* * * * *

Tom glanced through the viewing window of the door leading to the stage. Disappointment flickered in his eyes when he realised that Aïcha wasn't there. He quickly adjusted his collar, double-checked that he had all the reading material in his folder and followed the presenter and his fellow actors to an auditorium ringing with applause.