The Sheikh's Surprise Mistress 2 (Jatar Sheikh 6)

“They had to operate on him. His tiny heart needed help. His lungs are not fully developed. He is on a respirator. He has the best doctors and care available.”

“I’m so sorry, Amir. I love you.”

“Rest, my love. You will recover in time. I am here.”

***

I had no idea how much time passed between my moments of lucidity, but whenever I did open my eyes, Amir was there. He looked tired and so much older than I remembered him being. He must have been sleeping in the hospital, too, because there was a small bed next to the window. He was actually dozing in a chair this very moment. I pushed myself a few inches upright, and that wore me out, so I sagged back and rested. When I opened my eyes again, he was awake and reading something.

He instantly met my eyes and came to my bedside. It felt odd to let my mouth curl into a smile, like my face hadn’t done so in such a long time it forgot the motion. “I need to see our baby.”

Amir nodded and then drew his brows together. “We have to take you to him. Are you strong enough?”

“I doubt it,” I answered wearily. “But I have to start somewhere—right?”

“Tomorrow perhaps?” he offered.

I agreed and held his hand. “Tell me about him.”

Amir’s face lit up and he grinned. “The child is a fighter. He is small now, but someday will grow tall and strong. I am assured of this. His…” His tone changed from assured bravado and a hint of doubt crept in. He cupped his hand—just one hand and his expression was a mask of concern.

“He fits in the palm of my hand, Julie. He is too small to be in the world.” His chin quivered, “I fear for him—I am not good with weakness.” He forced down a sob and met my eyes. “It would have killed me to lose you.”

“You didn’t—I’m here. I’ll pull through.”

He shook his head, “It was a near thing—too close.”

I swiped a thumb over his damp cheek. “Close only counts in nuclear war and horseshoes.”

It took him a long moment to comprehend my joke, but when he did he jerked with a stifled laugh. “And hand grenades.”

“Yes, and apparently premature births. Now could you please call a nurse and get the catheter out of me? I want to start taking myself to the toilet.”

“Ahhh, indeed my female is returning,” he said with a hand pat as he ducked out the door and shouted something in Arabic.

As time went on, I began to feel incrementally better, and by the third day I was able to shuffle all by myself to the in-room toilet. And today they were going to wheel me to the infant unit so I could see my baby boy. Amir was with me the entire morning, and he’d been especially talkative. I’d asked him to share anything and everything with me, and he gradually begun to let the words flow.

He told me stories of his youth. Crazy horse races in the desert. Even crazier camel races. He was one of five children, all younger than him, and all off running their own districts within his country of Abu Dhabi. He was the acting King, but the distribution of responsibility was equitable among his siblings and still living parents.

“I’ve told them about our joining. And of course my child and you,” he announced.

“Yeah, how did that go over?”

He flinched, “As expected.”

“It’s an odd perspective to be the maligned minority,” I replied.

He brushed it away as if were nothing. “When they see your beauty and recognize your intelligence, they will fall for you just as much as I have.”

I shrugged, “Hope so.”

Amir reassured me, “My mother will admire you for your strength.”

I lifted my brows, “Not that strong anymore—actually I have no idea who I am anymore.”

“You are the love of my life, you pale-skinned goddess of a woman.”

“Ahhh, ever the sweet talker. I forgot how poetic you are.” I scratched at my IV tube in my hand.