The Sheikh’s Sham Engagement (The Safar Sheikhs 3)

“We can have more standardized testing,” Willow began in a small voice. “If foreign university acceptance is universally an important factor, we can of course modify things to accommodate that.”

Nasser clenched and unclenched his jaw. That wasn’t where Willow had intended to take the curriculum though. He knew it from reading over her notes and listening to her wax poetic the past few weeks about the benefits and joys of a relaxed school experience. But the council needed a definitive answer—and she was hemming and hawing in a major way.

“The standardized testing will be mandatory,” Nasser blurted, trying to salvage the meeting before the council members grew restless with her responses. He could sense it coming—this was his tribe after all, not hers—and he knew he had to step in now before things could deteriorate further. “University acceptance rates are of the utmost importance.”

Willow shot him a look that he didn’t understand, one he’d never seen from her before, but he didn’t have time to dissect it. More questions arrived, and Nasser was forced to be the point man. Willow shrank back and let him answer questions until everyone was satisfied and Fatim adjourned the meeting.

As everyone came to their feet or filed out of the room, Nasser rubbed Willow’s back.

“I think it went well,” he said, trying to be encouraging.

Willow’s faced looked stony, but she mustered the fakest looking smile he’d ever seen. Then she stormed out of the meeting room. Nasser followed her with a tight gut, giving a hurried farewell to his brother and sister-in-law. He found her back in the bedroom, staring out the window with a quivering chin.

“Willow—”

“Why did you do that?” she demanded, her voice cracking. She hadn’t looked at him yet. “You made all those promises to the council. Promises that are exactly the opposite of where I want this school to go.”

“You were indecisive,” Nasser blurted, fiercer than he’d intended. “The council wants answers, not hemming and hawing. You gave them options. That’s not what they’re looking for. They want answers.”

“But everyone wants something different!” Willow cried out, and then she burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands. Nasser wilted—he couldn’t stay upset when she cried. He rubbed her back, trying to figure out where the disconnect was. Something about this didn’t make sense to him. He’d never seen her so…flimsy.

“You weren’t providing a succinct path, so I provided it for you. I thought I was helping,” Nasser said in a softer voice. He kissed the top of her head. “If I was wrong, we can fix it. But the meeting today wasn’t about pandering to everyone’s wishes. It was about putting what you’re doing out there.”

“I know,” she wept, wrapping her arms around his waist. She sobbed freely into the front of his kaftan. “I know. I just…got so emotional up there. I couldn’t control it. I…I…” She sniffed, tilting her head up to look at him. “Nasser, I think I’m pregnant.”

12

Willow checked the pregnancy test no fewer than ten times. Just to make sure those two lines were still there. That it reinforced what she’d been suspecting since before the nausea that morning, since before her emotional breakdown proved to her that something was a little off hormonally.

“I need to talk to Vanessa and Calla,” Willow blurted. She and Nasser had been lounging in the bedroom for hours since she’d peed on the stick. They’d taken lunch there and everything, needing the quiet time to process. She was excited, though it was buried under several thick layers of disbelief and worry. Becoming a mother was something she’d always wanted to do, but when the time was right. When she got her long-term plans in order. When she was married to someone who actually wanted to marry her, not just to help solve a visa issue.

“Of course. That’s a great idea.” Nasser looked a lot more relaxed than she felt. He’d even started batting around some names, which Willow quickly defused. It wasn’t time for names. It was time for financial planning and reworking her ten-year plan. “Is it okay if I tell my brothers?”

She nodded. “That would be nice.”

Willow sent a message to the group text the three ladies had started earlier that week. Vanessa had jokingly labeled it “First Ladies of Al Ghuman”. For all intents and purposes, that was true. Willow just wished that it had come on the heels of a truly inspired desire to marry. Not this sham, this last-minute scramble to keep her in the country.

And maybe that was what stung the worst, Willow realized as she headed for the library where Vanessa and Calla wanted to meet. Willow loved Nasser, and she suspected that he still loved her, at least enough to warrant a marriage. This breakdown had nothing to do with love.

It had everything to do with her lack of planning. The sting of letting things get away from her and escape her control. This unexpected pregnancy was bringing up much the same emotion. It felt like a crack in her armor somehow.

Despite trying to be prepared for everything, despite using a damn condom, things could still go awry.

Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to that horrible time right after the break-up with Nasser. When she’d been spinning and lost, back in the US after four years living primarily abroad. Doing her best to plan some sense into the unforeseeable catastrophe of her sister’s cancer diagnosis. Taking over the family’s finances, scheduling the doctor visits, making all the necessary preparations for the worst-case scenarios a hundred times over.

By the time she reached the library, she was a puffy-faced, crying mess. Vanessa immediately took her into her arms, and Calla wrapped them both into a hug.

“What’s wrong?” Calla asked. The three of them began rocking, and the sisterly embrace did calm her somewhat. Even amid the crazy hormonal tornado.

“I’m pregnant,” she wailed, and a sob escaped her. She stood and wiped at her face while both ladies murmured their support. “I’m not crying about that, really. I want the baby. Don’t think I’m going to, you know…” She wiped at her eyes, feeling some semblance of calm take root. Maybe now that she’d gotten the tears out, she’d feel more level headed. For now.

“Well, this is exciting!” Vanessa said, moving a piece of ch

estnut hair out of Willow’s face.

“I know. It is.” She hiccuped and sniffled, the definition of hot mess. “I just am so emotional. I swear I’m actually happy. Somewhere deep down.”

“Come on, let’s go sit down.” Calla led them over to the big couches in the middle of library. Calla and Vanessa sat on either side of Willow as she sank back into the leathery comfort.