“He moves around so much.”
“He or she,” she reminded him.
“I know that. It’s just easier to say one pronoun.”
“Would you like to find out what we’re having?”
His eyes lifted to hers. “Yes. I would like to know. But I respect your wishes, if you’d prefer a surprise.”
“Honestly, I think having a newborn will be enough of a surprise anyway. I don’t mind. I wasn’t going to find out, but if you’d like to know…”
“Let’s think about it,” he responded.
“Anyway, the baby is healthy. They check a remarkable number of things in that appointment – heart chambers, fingers, toes, bone density. It’s quite amazing.”
He nodded. “And your health?”
“Fine,” she told herself his concern for her was really just an expansion of his concern for the baby. She refused to take it personally.
“What does that mean?”
“That I’m having a straight forward pregnancy with no foreseeable complications. I’m young, fit and the baby’s developing well. We’re very lucky.”
“Yes,” he agreed after the smallest of pauses, a pause that nonetheless reminded her this wasn’t either of their first choice. Reality was a beating drum, right behind her. She stood a little uneasily, forcing a tight smile to her face. “Did you have any other questions?”
He held her gaze for several beats, and she was incapable of looking away. Finally, he responded by gesturing to her plate. “No, but you’ve hardly eaten.”
“I really do have a small appetite at the moment. It’s the baby – my hormones are all over the place. If I push myself, I get queasy. Sorry you wasted all this food.” She left before he could respond, needing, urgently, some space.
* * *
“What?”
Across the boardroom table, Bashir threw Zafar a look of surprise, the curt word unexpected from a Sheikh who was generally regarded as patient and courteous.
“It’s the, er, logistics,” the minister for transport continued. “Funding isn’t an issue, but getting the supply organised takes cooperation between the regions and as you know, that’s not always guaranteed.”
“Which is why I entrusted you to oversee this,” he said pointedly, drawing his gaze to the plans. The highway would cut travel time to some of the most distant regions of the country, enabling better education, healthcare and promoting tourism in areas badly in need of financial rejuvenation. But the project was significantly behind schedule, and anything inefficient met with Zafar’s disapproval.
Or was it the enigma of his temporary wife that was making him short-tempered, a little voice in the back of his mind pushed. She was not the only one who’d struggled to find the respite of sleep. He’d found himself aching to reach for her, a carnal, animalistic urge overtaking him so all he could do was replay the night of the funeral over and over, remembering the imperative of their love-making, the rightness of their coming together. He’d laid in bed, tortured by memories and her proximity, the slight vanilla and honey fragrance of her hair conditioner teasing his nostrils, so eventually he’d given up on sleep altogether, opting instead for a run. He’d ignored the treadmill and his air conditioned gym, favouring the gruelling course through the east gardens, the early morning heat as the sun rose over the country combining with a course that tracked the bottom of the mountain range, meant he’d returned to his apartment covered in sweat, but no less frustrated. He’d contemplated a shower before returning to bed, but just the sight of his pregnant, untouchable wife asleep, tangled in the crisp cotton sheets, had put paid to that. He had a willpower of iron but he could feel it bending when he was near Amelia. Just as it always had.
The first time they’d kissed, he’d told himself he should end it. He’d told himself no good would come of the infatuation, but for once – the only time in his entire life – he’d allowed himself to put pleasure over duty. He’d enjoyed her. Every damned thing about her. The sex, sure, just as he’d said, but it was so much more than that.
He’d liked being with her. She’d understood him as no one else had, and she’d fascinated him. She was a contradiction in every way. Sheltered and innocent yet fiercely intelligent and inquisitive. He’d loved seeing the world through her eyes, loved showing her the mysteries of his kingdom, explaining the history, watching as her animated face morphed to convey her appreciation of it. Perhaps he’d loved it all the more for his knowledge that it was temporary, his certainty that their affair would end just as abruptly as it had begun. He’d known he would never see her again so he’d wrung pleasure out of every available second, never once concluding that his obsessive need to be with her would encourage a false hope in Amelia.
That had been his mistake. He’d never been clear enough, something he’d remedied this time around. They were married, but there was no room for misunderstanding, no room for hope. It was a marriage of convenience, a marriage for the sake of their child, and it was just as temporary as their earlier relationship had been. When the time came, he’d walk away from Amelia, just as he had done then.