“We don’t have rocks,” Layla said through a
tight throat. “We have a bump. One that angered him, and made him storm out of my office.”
Marian stroked her hair. “Well, what did you want Zahir to say? It’s big, shocking news. Probably one of the reasons you avoided telling him in the first place.”
Layla nodded glumly.
“I’m not judging you for not telling him sooner,” she added. “But really. Tell me. If you had imagined some perfect scenario, where it went exactly as you imagined…what would that look like?”
Layla’s insides tightened. She was hesitant to even consider it, since her reality was now so far from that silly fantasy.
“I don’t know,” Layla finally forced out.
“I think you do,” Marian said gently. “And I think you’re so used to being someone’s good time that you forgot to imagine your own happy ending.”
“What good is imagining the happy ending?” Layla shot back. “It won’t happen. It never does.”
“But it does,” Marian murmured, squeezing her friend’s shoulder. “Even for you. So just imagine it. Come on. What would it look like?”
Layla sighed, adjusting her ass on top of the flat rock. “Fine. Zahir would have been happy, for starters. And he’d…” Layla’s throat closed off and she swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears. “He’d tell me he loves me. Because I’m pretty fucking sure that I love him after all this mess. And he’d say he wants to be with me, to raise our baby, to—” She stopped, tears streaming down her cheek. “He wouldn’t marry that dumb girl, and we’d go make a killer apartment somewhere and visit volcanoes on the weekend.”
Marian grinned, nodding. “Very good.”
“But it’s not gonna happen,” Layla said, misery slithering back into its rightful spot in her heart.
“You don’t know that. But you have to be open to the possibility for it to ever happen in the first place.”
Layla sighed, feeling the fight go out of her. She leaned her head against Marian’s and let the tears stream down her face until she couldn’t cry anymore.
A couple hours later, Marian had returned to the office and Layla sat alone at the sea. Cross-legged with a gentle breeze caressing her, she looked down at her belly, smoothing a hand over the still-invisible bump.
“You’ll be my little one,” she said, tears instantly filling her eyes. She hadn’t cried this much in one day ever. Not even when her last boyfriend broke her heart. “I will love you to the moon and back. And whatever happens, you will be safe with me.”
She sat for a long time, rubbing her belly, imagining all the sweet things she could show this little creature inside of her. Now that the cat was out of the bag, surely Zahir’s family would have some sort of wealthy influence. But that didn’t mean that having a baby spelled the end of her life. No, she could travel with the baby to see all the things she’d meant to see alone. She’d pass along that appreciation of the world, of culture, of new experiences.
She could forge a new path, exactly as she saw fit.
She smiled, looking out at the sea. For the first time, the pregnancy felt empowering. She wasn’t a helpless bystander or a victim—she was in control of this ship.
“Layla.”
She jumped at the unexpected voice and didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Tears came again to her eyes and she stilled. A warm hand rested on her shoulder.
“Baby.” Zahir’s voice was a balm, one that smoothed everything over with just a couple syllables. She looked up at him through shimmery tears, and the sight of him nearly made her collapse.
“You didn’t wait.” His voice was chiding, but he smiled a little. He sat on the rock next to her, the scent of his cologne grounding her, bringing her clarity despite the turmoil. She swallowed hard, eyeing his chest, desperate to collapse against him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I kinda had to get out of there.”
“I don’t care that you didn’t tell me,” he said suddenly. “I’m just happy that I know now. And I can take care of you.”
She furrowed a brow, looking back at the sea. “But what will your new wife think?”
“I don’t have a wife. I only have a girlfriend.” He grabbed at her chin, guiding her face back to him.
She avoided his gaze anyway, feeling stubborn. “Oh? Was there another woman on the side you didn’t tell me about?”
“Yeah. This strawberry blonde woman from New York.” Zahir shifted beside her, leaning closer, his heat flooding her. “Sassy, determined, pretty fertile.” He cocked a grin and she couldn’t resist. She smiled too.