Another Shot at Forever, page 1
They had come here to begin to finalize the end of their marriage.
And somehow he was now holding her, his arm secured around her back and their bodies pressed close. He turned them and walked her back toward the large, comfortable bed a few feet away.
Zaynab gasped when the backs of her legs contacted the bed and gave way, bending, bowing, sending her reeling onto the cushioned support of the bed comforter and mattress. Ara followed her, his hands pressed by the sides of her head, their chests no longer touching and yet both matched in their heaving breathlessness.
Her eyes, still rounded with shocked confusion, flashed with a newer emotion. Desire, he recognized quickly, feeling the same yearning pump molten heat through his own body.
“I’m just making sure that we’re both certain this is what we want.” Ara took her chin in his hand again, his face lowering closer to hers until he could feel her sweet, warm breath stirring over his lips. “I can’t walk away with any doubts. Can you?”
Dear Reader,
I know I’m not alone when I say that some of the best romance stories feature second chances!
The pining and longing, the unresolved feelings, and don’t even get me started on the sparking chemistry. And who doesn’t love a good grovel scene? *swoon*
Of course, before second chances happen, a little soul-searching, some self-evaluation and self-forgiveness have to come first. I thought about that a lot while writing Zaynab and Ara’s story in Another Shot at Forever. Although their marriage isn’t looking so good at the beginning, when a certain circumstance—surprise baby news!—brings them back together, Zaynab and Ara are given another chance that neither of them is prepared for at first.
It doesn’t help that they couldn’t be more different—Zaynab being cheerful and Ara with his whole broody aura. Yet they peel back the layers of their hearts, reveal their vulnerabilities and soon learn to trust each other. And though saving their marriage isn’t the goal, somewhere along the way it grows into a possibility for them.
Now, whether it blossoms into a happily-ever-after...? Well, you’ll have to read on to find out. ;)
Happy reading!
Hana
Another Shot at Forever
Hana Sheik
Hana Sheik falls in love every day reading her favorite romances and writing her own happily-ever-afters. She’s worked various jobs—but never for very long because she’s always wanted to be a romance author. Now she gets to happily live that dream. Born in Somalia, she moved to Ottawa, Canada, at a very young age and still resides there with her family.
Books by Hana Sheik
Harlequin Romance
Second Chance to Wear His Ring
Temptation in Istanbul
Forbidden Kisses with Her Millionaire Boss
The Baby Swap That Bound Them
Falling for Her Forbidden Bodyguard
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
Every writer knows writing is tough sometimes. So, this one is for me.
Praise for Hana Sheik
“Second Chance to Wear His Ring is so much more than a typical romance story. It is a story of overcoming personal tragedy and also has huge cultural references!”
—Goodreads
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM DRIVING HER IMPOSSIBLE BILLIONAIRE BY ELLA HAYES
CHAPTER ONE
ZAYNAB SIRAD NEVER intended to divorce her husband at his sister’s engagement party, and yet that was exactly what she planned to do when she showed up and proverbially darkened his doorstep with the impending news.
If there was ever a time for her to rethink her plan to serve him the papers, now was it.
It wasn’t helping her resolve that the pleasant sounds of the party on the roof terrace drifted down to where she stood at the front entrance. She hadn’t known there was a party happening until the guards at the front gate had informed her. Behind her the taxi she’d taken idled on the front drive alongside a number of other vehicles—her first indication that she’d have an audience for what she was about to do.
While one part of Zaynab squawked that she should come back at a later date when she could end this quietly, the part of her that had been waiting and dreading this moment for a little over a year now kept her feet rooted and straightened her shoulders.
I have to do this now. I’ve waited long enough. We both have...
Ignoring the wobble to her legs and the swooshing upheaval of her stomach, she stepped forward and grasped one of the polished silver handles of the large two-door entrance. Without delay Zaynab pulled open the door, passed hurriedly inside, and hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she released it when the front door clicked closed loudly behind her. “There’s no going back now,” she muttered under her breath.
Despite knowing that the hardest part still awaited her, taking this first step was a small victory of its own. And right now she needed to reward the small wins to steel her courage and banish her growing anxiety.
Swallowing past the anxious knot lodged in her throat, Zaynab turned to face the home that had never felt like hers in spite of being married to its owner and technically being the house’s mistress.
Everything in the foyer looked the same bar the addition of the glittery ribbon and bright sweet-smelling flowers festooning the gleaming black banister of the staircase. Two dour-faced guards, hands poised behind their backs, stood fixed to their positions, one near the base of the stairs and the other at the top, their eyes tracking her as she walked toward the stairs. As always her gaze briefly dipped to the guns holstered at their waist belts, a new kind of nervous flutter working up her esophagus at the sight of the weaponry.
But aside from staring her down, the guards made no moves to deter her advance forward. Relieved, Zaynab surmised that they must have been informed of her arrival and clearance by the security personnel standing guard outdoors. It was one less thing she had to worry herself about.
I already have enough on my plate.
“You can do this,” she quietly rallied herself.
Gathering her long black skirt and abaya up in one hand, she clutched the handrail and climbed the staircase to meet her fate.
She needn’t have asked the guards for directions as she passed a few more on her way up the second flight of stairs to the third floor. String music, chatter and laughter from the party carried louder now. With this many people in one place, security had to be a top priority to the homeowner—her husband.
The man she’d come to divorce.
“You got this. Just walk right up to him, look him in the eyes and say, ‘I want a divorce.’” It sounded simple enough to her as she repeated the course of action, but as boldly as Zaynab entered the house initially, her trembling hand betrayed her when she opened the door to the terrace far more cautiously. Because now there was only this last obstacle she had to pass. And it wasn’t much of a deterrent as the door easily unlatched and opened.
The first thing to greet her besides the now unfiltered noises of the party was the stunningly bright light of day as she crossed the threshold and closed the terrace door behind her, her eyes having adjusted to the darker interior of the house. Then after blinking several times and growing used to the daylight, she took in the sight before her with a slackened jaw.
Though she’d been up on the terrace before, it might as well have been her first visit because it looked like a whole different place.
Strung with a canopy of fairy lights and silky silver drapes, the whitewashed posts formed a long overhead trellis that led from the door to the far edge of the roof. Zaynab tilted her head up and surveyed the transformed setting, her awe multiplying as she walked into the party and took in all the beautiful changes to the scenery. Gone were the wraparound teak sofa with its colorful cushions, the large potted palms and the fire table, all replaced by long, shining white oak tables, sturdy cushioned benches and a large dais where a band was playing live music, the fluted notes of a wind instrument blending with the brisk keystrokes from the piano as a lively song matched the general mood of the party.
Each table was adorned by simple but elegant greenery, more string lights and candle votives. The table settings were untouched, a clue that the party must have only just begun since the guests hadn’t dined yet. That knowledge gave her hope that maybe she could complete what she’d come to do without garnering too much attention. Still, her stomach churned when she walked a little farther onto the terrace and deeper into the party. Guests milled around the tables, some seated, everyone spread out and clustered into groups. From the looks of it, no one had come alone.
Except for me.
It dawned on her that she stood out like a sore thumb.
And she wasn’t alone in noticing that she was an outlier. A few guests caught her eye, their curiosity clear in their lingering stares and furrowed brows. Was it her
Or perhaps they could sense that unlike them, she had no official invite. Not from the bride-to-be, or her groom, and not even from the party’s host—her husband.
Well, her husband until she handed him the folded papers inside of her shoulder purse.
Thinking of the divorce she’d come for slowed her racing heart rate and calmed her mind a little. She had a reason to be here, though for a different reason than everyone else. And even though it wasn’t the most opportune of settings, she would try very hard not to ruin the party for anyone. Zaynab was determined as ever, despite being in the company of strangers, to meet with her husband and do what she should have done a year ago.
Divorce him.
End their farce of a marriage and move past this stage of her life finally.
Zaynab searched the faces in the crowd, certain he’d be there. Somewhere. He was throwing the party for his sister’s engagement after all. She grew frustrated when she didn’t spot him. Walking and scouring the crush of guests, she smiled awkwardly a few times when she snagged more curious looks from these strangers. One of them was a pale-haired white woman, her chin-length bob a blond so icy it bordered on colorless. Despite her frosty coloring, her eyes were shining pools of hazel warmth and her smile invited Zaynab to slow and stop beside her.
“Hello, newcomer,” the woman greeted her cheerfully, peeling herself out from under the arm of a lanky dark-haired young man who flashed Zaynab a grin. “If you’re worried that you missed anything, don’t be. Lunch hasn’t begun, and no one’s given speeches yet.” The woman raised a champagne flute to her with a widening smile. “Are you with the bride-to-be or the groom-to-be?”
“Um, neither actually.” Zaynab watched as the woman’s smile flipped downward and confusion pinched the space between fine ash-blond brows. “I’m looking for...the host.”
My husband was on the tip of her tongue, but that would require a long-winded explanation and she wasn’t in the mood to divulge.
“Ara?”
Zaynab tensed up, her body freezing at the sound of his name as it always seemed to do these days. She forced herself to nod and watched as the woman tapped a long manicured nail at her chin thoughtfully.
“I arrived a lot earlier than everyone, and I definitely saw him then, but not since.”
“Oh... I was hoping to speak with him.”
Smiling, the woman held up a finger to her and turned to regard her companion. “Lucas, did you see where Ara went?”
“Who?” the dark-haired young man said, his head swiveling to them from the conversation he’d been having with another couple.
“Ara. You know, Anisa’s older brother.”
Anisa. Another name Zaynab hadn’t heard in a while. She hadn’t met Anisa officially yet, and given her reason for being there, she hoped to avoid a run-in with the bride-to-be at all costs.
“Well, why didn’t you just say that, Darya?” Lucas scratched the scruffy beard at his cheek, hemming and hawing comically before he finally shook his head. “Nah, I don’t remember. He’s probably around though.”
Zaynab could only pray that he was. Seeing as they couldn’t help her, she thanked Darya and Lucas and walked away.
She didn’t get far before she heard someone calling for Anisa.
It wasn’t hard to tell who the bride-to-be was, as she was dressed in a white, gold-threaded guuntino, the traditional body-hugging outfit a favorite among Somali brides. And if her lovely dress wasn’t a giveaway, Anisa’s smile radiated an effulgent glow that spoke of her upcoming nuptials and future bliss.
Zaynab immediately recognized it because she had glowed just like that with the brilliant hope of what her married life would be like. Sadly, that spark in her was quickly snuffed out by the coldly cruel reality of her unhappy marriage.
Shaking away her depressive thoughts, she moved back into the crowd and studied Anisa from a safe distance.
Trailing behind her in a tan suit, with his gaze firmly glued to Anisa was a man Zaynab recognized more readily. Nasser, though she hadn’t seen him for some time. Nasser worked in the private security sector where he ran his own company, and Ara had hired his services some time before Zaynab and he had married. She’d only met him once but that didn’t stop her from being surprised that he was Anisa’s chosen life partner. From her recollection, Nasser was similar to Ara in that he was frigidly taciturn and not at all easily approachable. But she wouldn’t have been able to tell, not by the way he stared at Anisa. All she saw now was an unmasked abundance of love for his intended bride.
Impressive. I guess love does have some wonders, Zaynab mused.
Nasser palmed his clean-shaven jaw sheepishly as he joined Anisa in standing before an elderly couple. Judging by the way Anisa and Nasser shared similar embarrassed expressions, it seemed that they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing together. They were quickly forgiven, as the older woman and man embraced them both.
Zaynab presumed they had to be Nasser’s parents. They couldn’t be Anisa’s. She might not have been able to get Ara to open up about himself much, but it was common knowledge that both he and his younger sister had lost their parents in a tragic boating accident.
Though her marriage to him might be ending very soon, it didn’t stop Zaynab’s heart from panging in sorrow for Ara’s loss. She couldn’t fathom what it was like to lose one’s parents so very young. She’d hoped secretly that she could fill that void and be his family once they married, but now all Zaynab desired was for their divorce to be filed and eventually finalized.
It was why she kept an eye on Anisa and Nasser. Surely Ara wouldn’t be too far from his sister and future brother-in-law.
Where are you?
Biding her time wasn’t working well. Anisa and Nasser mingled with his family some more before chatting with their guests and doing the circuit. Zaynab found a corner to avoid a meeting with them and pulled out her phone, resorting to messaging Ara since she couldn’t track him down.
I’m here, at the house. I was hoping we could talk...
She thumbed the send button before she wimped out.
Staring up from her phone and looking around, she felt a fresh wave of exasperation and dread when Anisa and Nasser stopped to talk to the blond-haired Darya. Their chat was animated, laughter and gesturing relaxed as if the trio knew each other well. Worried that she would be mentioned, Zaynab backed toward the exit, pasting on a smile and praying she would make it without a confrontation.
As she did, she sent another message to Ara.
Leaving. Meet me at my hotel.
Sharing the pinned location of her hotel and feeling like she was far enough to safely turn her back on the party and make her hasty exit, Zaynab whipped around only to slam into a hard, warm wall. A wall that expelled an indignant huff upon contact and had big hands that quickly and firmly locked around her shoulders.
“Zaynab,” the wall said her name in a huskily deep, familiar voice that had her heart thundering from one breath to another and her head swirling with a number of emotions from apprehension to breathless anticipation.
She’d been looking for Ara all this time and now that he was in front of her, she didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even think she could move out of his grasp.
“Security informed me that you had arrived,” he said as way of explanation.
“I...” She struggled to speak and realized it wasn’t helping that his hands were still on her. Shrugging his touch off, she continued, “Yes, I didn’t want to pull you away and decided to come up and look for you, but I couldn’t find you.”
“We must have missed each other then.”
Zaynab couldn’t understand how she could’ve missed him, but now that her eyes alighted on his figure, she knew why he hadn’t jumped out to her immediately. First, he wasn’t dressed in his usual business attire, and his choice of a polo shirt, chinos and high-top sneakers threw her for a loop. But more disconcerting than his atypical outfit was the warm smile he cast to a guest that called his name. Raising his hand in greeting, he gripped her wrist lightly with the other hand and tugged her after him.
