She looked at him once more, lips compressed, then sighed, holding out a hand. He took it, helping her stand, and together, they walked back towards the table, Fatima removing her gloves as she went.
“Well?” She asked, lifting her juice to her lips. Though it was still early, the sun was already warm and Fatima had a fine bead of perspiration on her top lip from her exertions in the garden.
“Prior to Adan’s death, I had been seeing someone.”
“Romantically?”
He flinched a little. Was it romantic to turn up at someone’s apartment each week for the purpose of sex? He scowled—that might be how he wanted to categorise it, but he knew what they’d shared went well beyond that. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. “Yes.” His mother didn’t need to know the confines of his relationship with Cora.
“I see.”
“We each had valid reasons for wishing to keep our involvement private.”
Fatima made a noise that might have been encouraging, and might have been sceptical.
“Unfortunately, that’s no longer possible.”
Fatima stared at him through narrowed eyes.
“Cora is pregnant. The baby is mine.”
Fatima reached out, curving her fingers around his upper arm and gripping tightly, her face draining of colour.
“Oh, Samir,” she said slowly. “Are you sure?”
Even the idea of Cora being pregnant with another man’s child was enough to make Samir crazy. He nodded quickly, dismissing that imagery. “Absolutely certain.”
“And she’s—demanding—what?”
“Nothing. She demands nothing. She wants nothing from me.” It felt as if a stone was dropping through his gut. “If she had her way, I’d barely be a part of this child’s life.”Or hers.
Fatima’s brows shot up.
“But I refuse to let any child of mine be born without acknowledgement.”
Fatima nodded slowly, made a low noise of agreement.
“I’m going to marry her.” He made the bold statement even though he seriously doubted his ability to convince Cora. “But there are some…difficulties surrounding that.”
Fatima arched her brows. “Such as?”
Her not wanting to marry him? He pushed that thought aside. This was about their baby, and Samir was determined he’d win her over. “She’s half Greek, half American.”
Fatima considered that. “There is no law that requires royal spouses to be Al Medinan.”
“No,” he agreed. “But culturally…she’s…”
“What is it, Samir? You deal in facts, always. So? Give them to me. I can handle it.”
He almost laughed, but it was so like his mother to cut to the chase. “She’s been married and divorced. There are rumours she had an abortion to hurt her ex-husband. And though we’ve never discussed it, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that isn’t true.” He felt a swell of protective anger for Cora, and wondered why he’d never asked her about that before. Because he hadn’t needed her to explain nor clarify anything about her life? Because he believed in her? Or because it was too strangely difficult to hear her speak about her ex husband and the life she’d once planned for with him? Samir barely recognised himself. “She has a high profile in the media, with a reputation—in the past, and I suspect not well-deserved at all—for partying.”
“You don’t think she’s suitable to be your wife?”
Suitable?Samir stared at his mother. “I think Cora can be anything she wants. She is smart and funny and thoughtful and so incredibly kind…”
Fatima’s eyes narrowed.
“But this is the last thing she will want.”