TEN
We left the medical wing in a dazed happiness. Omar whisked me back to his suite and immediately ordered dinner from the chefs, including some celebratory sparkling apple juice. “I will quit drinking alongside you, my dear,” he told me after hanging up the phone. “We’ll endure a new, healthy lifestyle together for the sake of our child.”
“Our child,” I said thoughtfully, rubbing my still-flat belly. “I can’t believe we did it. All that medical science, but all we needed was to come together naturally.”
“And now our son will be born of love, and nothing else.”
I held my breath at his words. “Omar, do you love me?” I asked tearfully.
He stepped over to me and wrapped his arms around me. “Of course I do, Carrie. I’ve loved you for a long time; this past fortnight has only confirmed all the beautiful things I already knew about you. And now you’re going to give me the greatest gift of all: a beautiful baby boy.”
“Or girl,” I teased through my tears. “It could still turn out to be a girl, you know.”
“And I shall love her with all the fire in my heart,” he replied.
“I love you too, Omar. I’ve been waiting so long to speak those words to you. So many months watching you spend your affection on other women… it was so difficult.”
He stroked his hand gently over my hair and kissed my forehead, then my lips. “Those days are over now. It’s the dawn of a new time, and a new family—our family.”
His words melted my heart. I leaned into Omar and let him envelop me in his strong arms, listening to his heart beat underneath his skin.
Our family… that’s what this would be. And yet, this had all begun as a business arrangement—a labor I was carrying out for money. I’d never planned to stay around and be with my son after he was born. My intention had been to earn enough money to follow my true passions, and leave behind the doldrums of being a palace doctor.
But that was before all of this, and before Omar had confessed his feelings to me. Before we had finally made love and spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing dreams and fears and hopes for the future. Was I going to leave all of that behind still? Would I be able to do it, even if I wanted to? Would I be able to look into the face of my beautiful son, and the eyes of his father that radiated so much love for me, and turn and walk away?
Or would I be here forever, in this decadent but sedate life, away from the people who needed my help and the career I had dedicated my entire life to building?
There were no easy answers to these questions, and they began to haunt me, gnawing at my gut. Omar must have sensed the change in me, because he became even more doting and attentive than usual, turning down a phone call from one of his senior staff members in order to stay with me and make sure I had what I needed. When dinner arrived, he made me stay in bed and did all the serving and cleaning up.
After dinner, when he finally asked me what was wrong, I only told him that the shock of everything was settling, and the reality that a baby was growing inside me was beginning to take hold. “I think I’m just tired,” I said—not entirely untruthful.
Omar seemed to understand that, and readily accepted that the pregnancy was already doing things to my mood and body. “What do you need, my love? Ask for anything and I will bring it to you.”
“The only thing I think I want right now is some chocolate ice cream,” I giggled at him, running my hand through his hair.
He smiled at me. “Then you shall have it. I’ll call the kitchen.”
“With sprinkles!” I called after him as he moved across the enormous bedroom to the telephone.
As Omar made the call, I fretted over whether to burden him with my worries about staying or going. Everything had seemed so simple before, when I was providing a service to him and saying my goodbyes.
But now everything was different, and I didn’t know what I was going to do.
I couldn’t tell him, not now. The joy on his face at knowing he was finally going to be a father was too much. I couldn’t strip that joy away from him so quickly; I couldn’t break up the dream he clearly had of us being one big, happy royal family.
I didn’t know what I was going to do when the baby arrived. I only prayed the coming weeks and months would light a path for me that made some sort of sense.
ELEVEN
Four Months Later
Omar squeezed my hand and pulled it into his lap, sitting next to me on the plush limo seat. I looked over at his loving face and smiled.
“You look absolutely stunning, my love,” he told me, pulling my hand to his lips and giving it a soft kiss.
“I can’t say I feel very stunning,” I replied, only half-joking. Already, our son was proving to be a healthy, growing boy. My belly felt like it was getting bigger and bigger every day, and he was quite an active little thing, doing summersaults and kicking his tiny little feet into my ribs every chance he got. As I thought about him, he moved again, and I instinctively put a hand on my belly.
Omar repeated the gesture and grinned, his whole face lighting up when he felt the baby move. Even though he’d felt it dozens of times already, it still never failed to amaze him. “You are stunning, Carrie. Pregnancy is kind to you; your skin is absolutely glowing. You look like a goddess.”
I blushed and planted a kiss on his lips. “You’re too sweet to me.”
“Nonsense.”
From the other limo seat, Rafiq chuckled to himself, making both Omar and I look over with curious surprise.
“What’s so funny, Rafiq?” Omar asked lightly.
“Nothing, sir,” he answered quickly, looking suddenly shameful and self-conscious.
“Come now, out with it.”
Rafiq looked at me with a warm grin. “It is only that I remember teasing Dr. Green months ago, in this very car, saying that she needed to tell you about her feelings, and she promised me there was none to speak of. And now, here we are.” He followed up in a speedy voice. “I do not mean to speak out of place.”
I squished up my nose and gave Rafiq a playful little glare. “Yes, yes, you were right, Rafiq. Happy now?”
He chuckled again and nodded before turning away from the conversation.
“Well, his job is to be observant,” shrugged Omar with a laugh.
“Maybe he’s observed enough to tell me how your family will react to the news tonight,” I said, biting my lip with worry. “I’m still very unsure about this. I think you should tell them without me around. I don’t think they’re going to react well.”
“But why? You are the mother of my child and I love you.”
“I love you, too. But your mother scares me.”
Omar laughed loud and long at that, kissing me warmly when he’d calmed a little. “She is not as scary as she seems—that’s only her queenly demeanor coming out to take over when she needs it to do so. My mother grew up in a very different royal family; she was taught a different way of showing her power.”
“And do you think she might be keen to show it to silly American girls who fall in love with her son?”
“Not at all. You have nothing to worry about, my love. I’m going to be there right by your side through this whole dinner, and the baby will be here sooner than we think. Once he is born, neither my mother nor Sajid’s opinions—whatever they may be—will matter at all. I will be king, and they will have no choice but to accept that I love you. And I trust completely that they will come to love you, too.”
Omar meant his words to be comforting, but somehow they weren’t. There was nothing in my upbringing or experiences—even the most adventurous ones—to prepare me for this: a dinner with a royal family, during which we would announce that I was pregnant with the heir to the kingdom.
Not only that, but we would also be announcing our own deep love for each other, and revealing that this wasn’t simply a business arrangement. Tonight would be a night of history, and turning points, and as sure as Omar seemed to be about what would happen, I knew there was no telling
how his family was going to react to the news. In my darkest anxiety dreams, I had imagined them disowning Omar, or trying to shame him, or hurt him for his decision to love me and have me carry his child. I worried about what would happen to his legacy.
But Omar wasn’t worried. He was still overjoyed at the thought of becoming a father to our son. He was already doting on him by doting on me, and never let me lift a finger around the palace. He had hired me my own assistant, a young woman named Zaynab who was helpful and intelligent and kept me company when Omar had to attend to his duties. Even though she was younger than me by almost a decade, we had become fast friends and had lots of fun going shopping or having lunch in the gardens. My fear of boredom meant I couldn’t just sit around in bed, waiting for the baby to arrive and doing nothing until he did. Zaynab seemed to understand that, and helped me find safe activities to keep my mind occupied and my body healthy.
Every day, Omar came in with new gifts for me and the baby. He had already re-arranged his enormous suite to include a grand nursery in one corner, complete with every bit of furniture we would need for the baby. I spent hours in the rocking chair, resting my back and feet that ached anew every day, reading stories to my unborn son, hoping he could hear.
Omar had come to every single check-up with me, beaming with joy when the doctors announced all was well and the baby was perfectly healthy. He promised them all raises and the finest casks of wine and whiskey the kingdom could offer, and they would just laugh at him and tell him they were just doing their job.
Watching Omar’s happiness at his impending fatherhood made me happier than I ever thought I could be. I could only imagine how much better it would get when our son finally arrived—even if a kingdom’s-worth of anxiety came along with it. On top of everything, I was simply terrified of giving birth. Even as a doctor, I knew the experience was going to be joyous and scary, painful and incredible.
I couldn’t imagine doing this alone; I couldn’t imagine doing it without Omar by my side.
We arrived right on time at the restaurant Omar had reserved for dinner with his family. The place had been fully bought out for the night so that the royal family could dine undisturbed, and a cadre of security guards was already surrounding the building, creating a wall of black suits to allow us clear passage to the front doors. A few paparazzi were here, anyway, trying to snap photos and get any gossip they could.
Omar kept a protective arm around me as we left the limo for the restaurant.
“Aren’t you worried about our pictures appearing in the gossip rags?” I asked him, pressing my lips against his ears.
“It won’t matter after tonight,” he replied. “Once my family knows, there will be no reason to keep our relationship a secret. No one will be able to do anything about it, no matter how much they dislike it. Let them gossip, I don’t care. I only care about our family.”
I smiled up at him and let him lead me delicately inside. The restaurant’s maître-d’ was waiting eagerly for our arrival. He didn’t seem to think my presence was odd or unusual—either that, or he was very good at his job of not looking like he cared about his guests’ business.
“Your Highness! Good evening, good evening.” He bowed before us. “Welcome, both of you. Your brother and his family have already been seated. We’ve received word that your mother is on her way, but that she’s running a bit late. Appetizers have been served to the table.”
“Wonderful,” said Omar. “Can you please find some pomegranate juice and bring it to the table, chilled? My love has grown quite fond of it lately.” He gave me a smile and squeezed my hand.
“Certainly, sir, right away. Let me take you to your seats.”
He led us through the romantically-lit restaurant. All the other tables had their place settings out, waiting perfectly for dinner guests that would not arrive tonight. The table Omar had reserved was near the back, far away from the prying eyes of the street crowds or paparazzi, where the family could talk together in private.
As we approached, Sajid stood from the table, as did his beautiful wife and daughters. I could see the dawning shock on his face as he realized Omar was leading me by the hand—not something one would do with an employee. Sajid frowned at us, as if he were trying to figure out what was going on, as we approached the table and Omar pulled my seat out for me.
“Brother,” said Omar. “I’m sure you remember Dr. Green?”