“I try to forget every day.” Liza moaned. “I keep that information under lock and key. Do you have my birth certificate or something?”

“No, but your embassy invitation fell out of your purse.” Dorsey held out the thick paper for her.

Liza’s hand closed over the paper and grazed the inside of his palm. His eyes sprang up to hers like a gunshot. He hadn’t moved away from her. He wasn’t giving her space, and her breath shortened at his nearness.

Kiss me like you did that night.

Put your mouth on me so I can die like I died before.

Bring me back to life in your arms.

“I need you to know that I’m well aware that I approached you poorly in Alexandria, Liza,” Dorsey said. He took a deep breath. He looked like he was bracing himself for a flogging.

Liza nodded. “I was wrong about nearly everything, Dorsey,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“Question number 26. You ready?” His eyes stayed on her.

Liza nodded. He was easing her back into their rhythm. She didn’t know how much she missed it until she heard him say it.

“Complete this sentence: ‘I wish I had someone to share . . . ’ ”

Why not just tell the truth? She had already lost everything. What else was there? “My bed,” Liza said.

Dorsey stepped closer. The muscle in his jaw pulsed and those impossibly dark eyes were hypnotic and unmoving. He cleared his throat but said nothing.

“Now you complete it,” Liza said. “ ‘I wish I had someone to share . . . ’ ”

“My grief,” Dorsey said. “I wish I had someone to share my grief with.” His eyes traveled up to the photo of him and his mother in a forest chopping wood.

“Remember you caught malaria that trip?” Gigi’s question broke the spell. Liza shook her head like she was coming out of a fog. There was a whole damn room full of people here.

“You caught malaria?” Liza asked.

“Ugh, yeah,” Dorsey said.

“He was sick for weeks,” Gigi said. “And this is the school for girls Dorsey started.” Gigi pointed to another picture. Her smooth brown shoulders shimmered in the dim light.

“Hold on.” Liza held her chest. “You built that school for girls in Mozambique?” It was too much. Liza could see the joy on his face, how proud he was of this life. “I remember reading about that. I think half the team went down with malaria, but the school still opened on time.” Everything seemed to click into place. He was a philanthropist thrust into a CEO role—not the other way around. His heart was in this humanitarian world, and he was simply playing at the other one.