Omar led us through the aviary as we the conversation moved to lighter fare. We discovered we had much more in common than might be expected of a sheikh and a western doctor. Both of us had grown up restless, taking part in sports and any activity we could be a part of to stave away the dreaded specter of boredom. We both had huge soft spots for animals, and cared passionately about the rights of the oppressed and the working class—some
thing Omar had demonstrated many times in his official work for the kingdom.
I couldn't believe that my date with the Sheikh was swiftly becoming the most successful date I'd ever had. The chemistry we’d been fighting for so many months flowed out of us like a river in spring runoff, surging and full of life.
I realized how foolish I’d been to not see it before; Omar had been holding feelings for me just as long as I had held feelings for him. It was an endless relief to know I hadn't just been holding a candle in the dark, waiting for a day that was never going to come. All that time, Omar had been thinking about me, too. He had dreamed about me like I’d dreamed about him. And we were both so happy to finally come together and say it.
When we reached the garden's intricate fountain, there was already a table set out for us. A selection of Mediterranean delicacies had been spread out over pure white dishes; meats and cheeses, olives, figs, fresh-baked bread, grapes, and dipping oils beckoned to us. Two bottles of wine chilled in a silver, ice-filled bucket, and a small but decadent-looking chocolate cake waited enticingly under a glass dome.
“I know the doctors said to cut back on alcohol, but I figured since you’re not pregnant, a glass of wine might do wonders helping you relax,” said Omar as he lifted one of the bottles out of the ice bucket. “May I?”
“Please,” I said, grateful for the nerve-calming alcohol.
Dinner was a playful affair. Omar told me stories about growing up as a royal son, and I shared with him the gory details of working my way through college and medical school. For some reason, he was enchanted by my stories about growing up in boring old Ohio—stories I usually kept out of my repertoire because they were so mundane. But for someone who had grown up on the other side of the world, learning how to rule a country, hearing about carefree summers catching bullfrogs and climbing trees was like hearing a fairy tale.
“Do you know how I got interested in medicine?”
“No, tell me,” said Omar, a hint of tipsiness teasing his expression.
“I started collecting animal bones I would find along the train tracks outside of town, trying to rebuild the skeletons. Of course, most of them ended up abominations because I had the wrong parts, in the wrong places. Mom hated my collection—she thought it was terribly macabre—but I was just trying to understand how the animals were built so that one day I could help them. Eventually, I decided I cared about helping people more than animals.”
He seemed delighted at that anecdote. “You truly are a scientist at heart.”
“Or maybe I was just a morbid little kid,” I joked.
“Well, if it brought you to such an honorable calling—and to me—then I’m glad for your morbid childhood,” laughed Omar with a wink.
“It certainly got me the hell out of Ohio,” I said, sighing heavily and gazing up over the tall façade of the palace as a flock of white birds passed by overhead, sparkling in the sun. “It’s brought me to some amazing places. I can’t wait to start traveling again.”
Omar’s wine glass was halfway to his lips when he paused suddenly and lowered it, deep in thought. He looked almost sad.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Did I say something?”
He shook his head insistently. “You did nothing wrong. I was only thinking—wishing, really—that travel was still an option for me.”
“Why do you say that it’s not?”
“This,” he said, waving his hand toward the palace. “My kingdom needs a constant, steady hand to guide it, or she will fall into disrepair and millions of people will suffer. Their leader cannot be gallivanting around the world, appeasing his own whims. He has to be here, supporting and living among them, attending to all the duties that keep everything running.” Omar sighed. He looked sadder than I’d ever seen him. “Carrie, I fear that when I become king, I will never be able to leave my country again.”
“That’s not true,” I said, desperate to comfort him. “What about diplomatic missions, like the ones your father used to take you on?”
He scoffed. “That isn't traveling. It’s just business negotiations in faceless meeting rooms.”
I couldn’t help but laugh hollowly at that. “I’m sorry, Omar. I feel awful hearing you say things like that. I want you to have what you want.”
He looked at me softly, studying the details of my face as if he were trying to memorize them. After a few moments of silence, he spoke quietly. “What I want is to travel the world with you.”
I couldn’t take it any longer. The feelings I’d been trying to hide for so long bubbled up too strongly, and there was nowhere left for them to go.
Without warning, I leaned forward and smashed my lips against Omar’s. He moaned in surprise for a moment, but then melted into the kiss, pulling me into his lap as his tongue pushed gently into my mouth.
And suddenly, the feelings we’d been holding inside came bursting out. Omar wrapped his strong arms around me, holding me close as he passionately kissing me, both of us moaning into each other’s mouths. One of his hands tangled itself carelessly in my hair, bringing my face closer to his as if he wanted to meld us into one body.
“Carrie,” he whispered against my lips. “I’ve dreamed about this so many times.”
“So have I,” I replied, my voice deep with lust. “So many nights I’ve wanted to feel your lips against mine.”
Omar smiled and kissed me again, holding me tight. In one sweeping motion he stood up and brought me with him, holding me like a fairy-tale princess and making me squeal in girlish delight. I didn’t care how silly we looked to the entourage of guards stationed all over the garden, I was just happy to finally be in Omar’s arms.
Moments later, he was carrying me into the palace where, hand in hand, we rushed back to his royal suite as fast as our legs would take us.