Free The Night Counter by Alia Yunis

want to ask you something.”
    She sat down, big eyes aglow with tears. “We’ve had several successful engagements since we opened,” he began.
    “Twenty,” she confirmed. “We’re probably doing far better than Match.com and eHarmony, speaking per capita.”
    “Yes,” Zade said. “So I was thinking—”
    “So was I,” she interjected.
    “Okay, me first,” Zade said, drying off his palms on his suit jacket. “What if we took ourselves to the next level.”
    He pulled the ring out of his pocket.
    “So you want to go global, too?” she said, looking in his eyes and not seeing what was in his hand. “Think of all the Arab immigrants in Brazil, West Africa, and Canada and all the Lebanese, Egyptian, Iraqi, and Moroccan guest workers living in the Persian Gulf, all looking for true love. We can bring that to them, sweetie.”
    He put the ring back in his pocket. “Expansion is expensive,” he said. “We don’t even have people on the ground in those places.”
    “We can do it,” Giselle countered. “We’ll spend a month in each place. Hire a good part-time person to be in charge, work out the initial marketing. We’ll start in London. Guess what? There’s a restaurant there that makes the best
kusa bi laban
outside of Lebanon.”
    “What about here?” he pointed out. “This is where love cashes the checks.”
    “You’re right,” she conceded, momentarily as defeated as he was. “No, we have no choice. I’ll be the one that goes. You stay. Your mom would go all loco alone, with your dad away for the next two semesters.”
    “And you won’t go loco without me?”
    “I’ll be fine,” she answered too quickly. “And so will the business. Your mom can handle that end. She already does, even though she won’t admit it.”
    “You know who won’t be fine?” he said. “Remember me?”
    “You can live without me for a couple of months.” She grinned. “We’ve got the rest of our lives. And we’ll talk on the phone every day.”
    “If you go, Giselle, then we’re over,” Zade decided aloud. He felt the pores on his underarms release significant amounts of sweat, as using ultimatums on her—or anyone—was not something he had ever tried before.
    “Why are you talking to me that way?” she said, taking a step back.
    “We know from our own website that three in four of our long-distance matches end in failure,” he said, pressing his feet into the ground to help keep his shoulders lifted.
    “What if I come back at least once a month?” she offered, but did not step forward.
    “Don’t bother,” Zade said with no threat implied this time. He let his gaze leave her moonlike face, focusing on the ground instead. “I don’t want to spend my whole life trying to make you happy by becoming the greatest entrepreneur love has ever known.”
    “God, you sound like our parents,” she said.
    He had no response to that. Giselle crossed her arms.
    “I love you,” she said. “But I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness. If you want to find someone more socialist, then I won’t deprive you of that. We’ll just stay business partners.”
    It was not the answer he was hoping for, but it was the one he should have expected.
    “I might become a member of Aladdin and Jasmine, Inc., myself,” he declared.
    Giselle teared up but did not protest. She hugged him tight. “Bye, baby,” she whispered, and walked out right past their poster.
    It had been four months since they had decided to expand their business and break up. He had not seen her since. Nor had he joined Aladdin and Jasmine, Inc. He hadn’t even filled out the questionnaire. But he had added to it: “Please note that there is a 20% surcharge for clients in Latin America, West Africa, and Canada.”
    He looked at the clock. He still talked to Giselle every day, mostly about the sales figures Nadia put together. Today he couldn’t wait to tell her about the Qatari who had just left.
    The phone rang, as it did