After an entire adulthood lived expecting the worst of men, of believing that she’d really just end up alone no matter what happened, she realized she was ready to really try a relationship. This relationship, if Amad still wanted it.
She was ready to let go of thinking the worst, of believing it to be temporary. She was ready to have her life partner. A man who would grow with her, support her, and share life with her.
It was maybe backwards that this realization occurred after the marriage. But she was okay with her life being a little unconventional.
She wanted her equal in life and in marriage. Amad was definitely equal, but it would only work if he let her in on that level.
Vanessa wouldn’t accept less. Not now. Not when she’d finally found her footing in a business sense, with a baby on the way. She had goals and aspirations and dreams. Not just for herself, but for the baby growing inside her. There was no time to waste. And she wouldn’t waste her life by staying small or fearful or meek.
Once she landed in Switzerland, she was swept along a carefully curated path, arranged in advance by The Powers That Plan: a chauffer waiting for her at the private airstrip; a dinner at her lavish hotel; and a surprise massage in the hotel room, delivered by a dainty woman with surprisingly strong hands.
When the morning of the meeting came, Vanessa was regretting coming alone. She should have insisted that Calla make the trip or that they send someone along with her. A car picked her up at nine thirty on the dot, and she spent the entire ride checking the time on her phone, multiple times per minute even, and adjusting her position in the back seat, as though the perfect posture would somehow help her nerves.
She had with her a big suitcase of the clothing that she’d be showing off. The headquarters for Le Suiz was an unassuming brick building, tucked between the medieval-looking architecture of downtown Bern. The city was breathtaking—another moment that made her think How on earth did I get here?—and she made a note to compliment Marie on her choice of headquarters.
Inside, a polite receptionist directed her to the proper hallway and a short flight of stairs. Marie greeted her at the top, a big smile brightening her warm face.
“You’re here! Good morning!” Marie welcomed her into a spacious office, where the walls were full of clothing sketches and fashion show snapshots. As they settled into their seats, Marie winked. “I think I can finally tell that you’re pregnant.”
Vanessa laughed, smoothing her palms over the growing bump. “Now I might finally do justice to the clothing!”
They talked business for a little bit, and then Marie was ready to see the product. She led Vanessa into an adjoining room, which seemed specifically made for these types of impromptu fashion shows. A dressing room was tucked into the corner, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors backed the end of a small runway. Vanessa hurried toward the dressing room.
“Take your time getting changed. My partners are on their way; they’ll be viewing the outfits as well. Have you heard from your colleague?”
Vanessa lifted a brow, pausing in her walk. “Uh…colleague?”
“One moment.” Marie hurried back to her office as the phone rang. “Perhaps that’s him.”
Vanessa paused, unsure who she was talking about. Probably Calla. Her English wasn’t perfect. There was really no other person involved with this.
She ignored it and went into the dressing room, hanging up the series of eight outfits she’d be showcasing to Marie. She checked her hair and makeup—everything fine—and then peeled herself out of her conservative business wear.
When she was one foot into a swishy formal jumpsuit, one of the pet projects for her and Calla, footsteps approached the dressing room. And then a soft rap-rap-rap against the door.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Your colleague is here,” said a very familiar, very male voice. She froze halfway, perched on one leg, her voice drying in her throat.
“Colleague?” was all she could force out.
“Yes. And husband…and lover…and baby daddy,” he went on. She could hear the smile in his voice. “May I come in?”
She couldn’t even speak. Why was Amad here?
“I understand if you don’t want to let me in,” he said. There was a soft thud against the door—like maybe he’d tapped his forehead against it. “I wouldn’t let me i
n. But please do let me in. You need help, you know? With the zippers.”
The sound of his voice sent emotion snowballing through her. She clamped a hand over her mouth to silence the sob that threatened to spill out. And yes, the tears were filling her eyes now. Why was she so emotional over his surprise appearance? She tugged open the door, the jumpsuit abandoned at her feet.
Amad wilted visibly at the sight of her, tenderness creasing his face. “Babe.”
“Oh, Amad,” she whispered with a thick throat, and he swept into the dressing room, his sturdy arms encircling her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, grateful for the solidness of him, the musk-and-mahogany scent of him, the way that he could fill her with so much bliss and reassurance just from the way his body fit against hers.
The past five days without him at her side had been hell.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, a few tears spilling out.