His knowing smile showed he didn’t come close to believing her.
“There are strong laws in Abu Qara protecting royal children from unnecessary press. The aim was to keep media intrusion to a minimum when we were younger – it wasn’t such an issue in previous generations. The laws work. For the most part, his or her life will be reasonably unhampered by the outside world.”
“And if I want to take the baby to a playground?”
He shook his head. “I’ll build one.”
“What do you mean? Where?”
“Here. There is plenty of space.”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” she dipped her head to hide her smile. It was all so easy for him! “Playground adventures are good for kids. They get to socialise with other little ones, and I would get a chance to chat to other mothers.”
He frowned. “You’re right,” he tapped his fingers on the tabletop to his left. “The social interaction is important. You’ll need to meet some friends here, other women with children. I’ll ask Bashir.”
“You’ll ask him what?”
“To find some suitable companions.”
“Oh my God, Zafar, stop. No. I don’t want your…I don’t even know his job title…your minion…selecting my friends for me. Please, forget I said anything. I’ll figure it out myself.”
“How? You don’t know anyone in Abu Qara besides me.”
“I’ll be fine,” she responded quickly, though in her heart, she began to feel a hint of panic at the isolation she was walking into. “I’ll meet people after we — the divorce.”
He nodded once, but she had the feeling it was far from a concession. For the moment though, the conversation was closed.
“When our son or daughter is old enough to attend school, they will go where I went. A military academy in the city.”
“That sounds friendly,” she quipped sarcastically.
“Relax, Farrah and Aziz went too. It’s where our father went before us.”
“Tradition,” she said with a small nod.
“Right.”
“What else?” She sat back in her chair, her appetite waning.
“Their education will be similar to yours, with some private tuition as they get older specifically in matters of international diplomacy, government and the military. When I left school, I enlisted in the army.”
“I remember you mentioning that,” she murmured, the photo of Zafar in his military fatigues burned into her mind.
“It was an excellent experience; something I would encourage our child to do.”
She lifted her shoulders. “That feels like a long way away. We can deal with that then, right?”
“Naturally.” His eyes fell to her plate, a small frown of disapproval crossing his lips when he noted the unfinished pastry. “Tell me about your healthcare to date.”
“With the baby?” She searched her brain. “There hasn’t been anything major. A couple of scans – one at twelve weeks, and another at twenty, right before I came out here, actually.”
“And the baby is healthy?”
“Yep,” she reached into her back pocket, pulling out her phone. “Want to see?”
His eyes flared wide. “See?”
“The baby.” She slid her phone across the table. He stared at the video—a grainy, black and white sonogram—so intently that she had the luxury of regarding him at her leisure. He was engrossed, so her eyes could roam slowly over his face, mapping the terrain, noting the subtle differences four and a half years had wrought – from eyes that were slightly more lined at the corners to a thinning of his features that suggested he’d lost a little weight – not that he’d ever needed to.