Another Shot at Forever, page 5
If only she could remain this relaxed, maybe she could find the strength to face the so many unknown variables of her future.
Would she be a good mother? Could she be enough for her child if things didn’t work with Ara? And now that she was thinking of him, why was he really pushing for them to move in together?
What’s his agenda?
Zaynab didn’t know how long she stood there, but her calves cramping was an indication. Just as she was in the middle of bidding the waterfall a quiet farewell, she heard a stone rustle and crack against another stone behind her on the embankment to the pool. Remi had to be back.
She glanced over her shoulder, the greeting on her tongue vanishing as she saw it wasn’t Remi at all, but Ara.
Zaynab watched him silently as he left his shoes by hers and treaded through the water to her. She waited until he was beside her to peer up at him. “Did you follow me here too?” she asked sullenly. “What happened to giving me time to think?”
“It’s been nearly two days, and my patience has its limits.”
“Well, I don’t have an answer for you.”
Rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he stared back at her quietly. Meanwhile the powerful spray and misting waters around them steadily soaked his shirt into clinging to and shaping the thick, corded muscles typically hidden beneath his business suits. Muscles she’d gotten a feel of just once and admittedly still secretly lusted for.
Gulping now, Zaynab looked away from the temptation he posed her. “I wasn’t living with you during most of my iddah, so why does it have to be different now?”
“That was my mistake. I shouldn’t have let you go then.”
“You walked away,” she corrected bitterly, the sting of waking up to a bed all alone forever imprinted in her mind.
“I did, and I shouldn’t have done that.”
She wanted to ask why he had, but the truth frightened her, the possibility that maybe she wasn’t enough for him or their marriage. And Ara didn’t offer an explanation, his low, gruff voice filling her ears as she turned her head off to the side where he wouldn’t see how she furiously blinked back tears.
“Six months,” he declared, piquing her interest. “If in that time we can’t live together...peacefully, then we figure out how to co-parent separately.”
“And our marriage?” she wondered. She wasn’t rushing to hope that he would be reasonable, though if he really meant what he said, maybe they could figure this out together as a united front. Not married anymore, but happily raising their child.
“At the end of the six months, the end of your iddah, if you still wish for a divorce, I will give it to you.”
His face was still unreadable, but she couldn’t detect deception. Intuition told her that she could trust him to uphold his word.
As if reading her mind and sensing that she’d become more amenable to his outlandish suggestion to play house together, Ara shifted to face her and raised a hand between them, his thick brown fingers hovering, waiting—waiting on her permission to touch her stomach, she realized.
Nodding quietly, she clamped her teeth into her bottom lip and held still as he slowly reached for her.
She freed the breath she’d been holding when his warm palm skated over her belly lightly before settling with his fingers outstretched. Zaynab looked down where he held her and then slowly drew her eyes up to him, finding that he was far closer, his face much nearer than it had been. If she didn’t know that all he’d wanted to do was connect with their baby, she would’ve believed he wanted to kiss her.
“Six months?” Ara asked her again.
“Six months,” she heard herself agreeing.
CHAPTER FOUR
SIX MONTHS!
Zaynab could still hardly believe that she’d agreed to living with Ara for six long months, or roughly what remained of her pregnancy. After she had been so adamant that his suggestion was an awful idea, and she was certain she wouldn’t ever agree to it, it hadn’t taken long for her to fold.
She blamed the beautiful waterfall and her softness for him.
If she closed her eyes, Zaynab could see Ara staring at her heatedly, his shirt soaking wet from the misty spray of the fall’s gushing waters, and his hand warming her fluttering stomach—
She shook her head, annoyed by the blush now heating her face. If it had been his strategy to obliterate her resolve with desire, then he’d succeeded. Of course it only highlighted why she shouldn’t have agreed. Why this idea of his posed a big problem. I’m still weak for him. Still hopelessly crushing on a man who hadn’t taken their marital vows seriously and had pushed her from his life. Once she knew that he didn’t love her, she had to escape. And she almost had until...
She crossed her arms to cover her belly and the baby they’d created together.
Despite her reservations—and the fact she was certain that this plan of his was still very much doomed—Zaynab grudgingly accepted that her pregnancy changed everything. It was why she was sitting beside Ara in his fancy white Porsche, speeding down a southbound motorway that cut through the sprawling metropolis of Mauritius’s capital, Port Louis. If they were doing this, they’d have to talk seriously, and Zaynab knew they had to do it before she boarded her flight out of Mauritius that evening. So, as soon as she woke that morning, and with that clock ticking ominously in her head, she messaged Ara and asked to meet up after breakfast.
She anticipated that the conversation would be difficult.
What she hadn’t expected was for him to propose they take a drive and have their serious discussion away from their luxury resort. She didn’t think he had a specific destination in mind, but was a little curious when they seemed to be headed away from the northern part of the island.
Not curious enough to allow it to distract her, however.
“We should still divorce,” she said, turning her head away from her passenger window and the panoramic sights of Port Louis.
Ara’s side profile was hard to read even with her being close enough to breathe in the heady, knee-weakening scent of his fresh, citrus-bright cologne. She stiffened against the instinct to lean over the center console and sniff him. Sniffing him would send the wrong message, especially given she’d just told him that her mind wasn’t changed where their divorce was concerned. Besides, mixed signals were the kind of thing that would complicate their already overcomplicated situation.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” he said, his gaze briefly flickering off the road to her.
“Just because I agreed to live with you again doesn’t mean our separation shouldn’t still happen.”
“If that’s what you wish,” was his rumbling response, as unemotional as his expression.
Zaynab stuffed down her rising frustration. Ara was telling her exactly what she wanted to hear, and yet his easy agreement chafed her and she couldn’t quite place her finger on why it bothered her. And not wanting to really analyze what she was feeling in depth, she continued on as if she weren’t perturbed.
“I’m still not convinced that moving in together is a good idea.” Pressing her hands to her still-flat stomach, she said, “I want what’s best for the baby.”
“Then wouldn’t that be having us both in their life?”
“That would be nice,” she conceded. In a perfect world, she and Ara would be able to co-parent while cohabiting in peace. No hormones driving her wild, tempting her every time those dark eyes of his zeroed in on her and made her want to silence any warning bells going off in her head and indulge every passionate thought Ara inspired in her...
And no heartbreak.
Because that was what she risked most if she was to live with him again. The first two months of their marriage had taught her not to entrust Ara with her heart. Instead of receiving the same love and attention that she was giving him, she’d ended up lonely and starved of the affection Ara should have given her. Surviving that isolation once took most of her willpower; doing it again might destroy any shred of strength she had left.
Zaynab’s bottom lip trembled, and she blinked away the watery heat from her eyes and looked back out the car window and the passing cityscape. Breathtaking as Port Louis was with its position being picturesquely sheltered between the semicircle of verdant Moka mountains and the dark aquamarine waters of the Indian Ocean, she struggled to admire its beauty.
Silence reigned in the car, and it only made the noise in her head that much jarringly louder. Doubts clamoring to be heard one over the other.
What if he hurts me again? Can I trust him?
Do I want to trust him?
Zaynab didn’t have the answers. She only hoped she wasn’t making a mistake by allowing Ara into her life once again.
* * *
Ara was no stranger to tense situations.
He’d dealt with them a number of times in his boardroom during tough meetings, and certainly whenever he angered his little sister, Anisa—which these days with her being stressed about her wedding plans was more often than not.
Yet all of his past experience abandoned him right then with Zaynab.
The awkward silence that started once they left the city limits of Port Louis lasted the hour-long drive from one end of the island of Mauritius to the other. Ara struggled to figure out how to break it. Every time he rustled up a bit of courage, he’d cast a quick glance at Zaynab and lose his grip on his bravery. Unlike him she didn’t seem pressed by the quiet or look to be in a hurry to end it as she stared at her phone.
And why would she?
She’d restated that she wished for the divorce, making it clear that her agreement to live with him again had no bearing on their relationship...or the absence of it in this case.
Ara tightened his hands on the steering wheel, wringing the smooth leather until his fingers ached and the threat of callouses on his palms compelled him to ease his grip. It was one way to relieve the frustration choking him. Frustration born from the fact that he had only himself to blame for the tension between him and Zaynab. He hadn’t been a good husband to her, and it had pushed her into leaving him.
And then he’d slept with her, not once considering their impassioned union would result in a consequence.
He couldn’t change what had transpired in the past, but he could do something about their future together. At least so long as he didn’t give Zaynab a reason to change her mind. That was why the silence in the car was worrying.
Hearing their GPS indicate they were closing in on their destination gave him some hope though.
A large colorful billboard advertising the tea estate up ahead was the first break in the stretch of green pastures that ran alongside the main road. Zaynab lifted her head up, her focus no longer fixed to her phone screen.
“‘The Bois Cheri tea factory,’” she said, reading the sign. “Is that where we’re headed?”
“It is.” He tried not to preen when Zaynab’s breath hitched a few minutes later, the gush of rain-scented air that blew in when she rolled down the window prompting him to look her direction.
Ara hid a smile when she closed the window and gasped, “Oh, wow, it’s beautiful.”
A sight to behold, the neat green rows of tea plants climbed the hill and seemed to point to the expansive structure at the hilltop. As he turned the Porsche off the main thoroughfare and down a smaller lane that led to the structure, Ara had more trouble concealing his amusement. His lips twitched when a smiling Zaynab barely waited for him to find a spot to park in the crowded lot outside the colonial building before she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door. Meeting her outside, he resisted puffing up his chest and led her to the entrance.
There a staff member connected them with their prepaid tour of the tea factory housed within the estate.
As fascinated as Ara was to hear the long history of the grounds and building and the delicate, multistep process of tea cultivation, in truth he was more invested in Zaynab’s reaction to it all. She smiled politely as their tour guide explained how the colonial rule of British, French and Dutch settlers had intermingled with the local Mauritian culture, and she beamed when they watched a demonstration of the factory workers sorting tea leaves and bagging them. Later, when they had taken a short break during their tour, Zaynab easily struck up conversations with some of the other tourists in their group.
He’d forgotten how friendly she could be.
When their tour guide finally announced the end of their walkabout of the estate building and its grounds and encouraged them to explore on their own, Zaynab ventured toward a footpath that led straight through the rows of tea plants and the lake beyond. She stopped and laughed a magical sound as a small curious boar strayed onto their footpath, blocking them from exploring the row of tea plants and the lake beyond.
Ara stepped in front of her instinctively the instant the wild pig snuffled closer, its snout raised up and its black eyes locking on Zaynab.
“It’s not going to hurt us. It’s just a piglet. Poor thing, probably lost its mother.” Zaynab tutted at Ara and pushed past his defenses, her hand outstretched palm first as she cooed at the snuffling creature. Emboldened by her stillness, the small wild pig snorted softly and approached her. After a thorough sniff of her hand, she was given the green light to stroke its head.
“Did you lose your mother?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet.
Though every nerve in his body wanted to put himself between her and any source of danger, Ara clenched his jaw and forced himself to stand back. After all, it was only a tiny little pig. What harm could it do her? And he was rewarded for his patience when Zaynab let out a peal of giggles. The piglet ran circles around her, seemingly chasing its own tail. At the delightful sound of her laughter, a pleasant shiver chased down his spine and loosened the tension wringing his muscles.
But his momentary peace didn’t last long. A sharp squeal nearby ended it quickly.
The wild boar that tore around the corner skidded to a halt, zeroed in on the piglet wriggling its small body and gave another angry squeal before charging straight for them.
Adrenaline slammed into him and erased the smile that had begun to pull at his lips. Not thinking of anything but needing to protect Zaynab, Ara’s arm shot out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her toward him and away from the piglet. In one fluid move, he tucked her behind him and shielded her from the oncoming danger.
By that point the larger boar had slowed its charge, bristled in place and squealed sharply at them.
The piglet responded with a shorter, weaker squeal.
Ara held his ground, knowing that turning his back could open both himself and Zaynab to an attack from the unpredictable animal. Refusing to take his eyes off the angry boar that could only be the piglet’s missing mother, he slowly and gently walked himself and Zaynab backward. The staring match ended when the piglet shot toward its furious parent. Giving them one last sharp-eyed look, the mother boar snorted and herded its youngling away.
Even after they were clear of the threat, Ara didn’t budge until he registered Zaynab pulling free from him.
Standing beside him now, she laughed nervously. “Whew, that was a scary close call.”
Scary didn’t encompass the riot of emotion squeezing off his airways. He turned to face her, his hands locking around her elbows, eyes skimming over her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she reassured him.
Her words spoken gently weren’t enough to convince him not to assess her for any injury. And he was silently grateful that she allowed him to do so. Once satisfied that she hadn’t gotten hurt, Ara pried open his tightly clenched jaws and said, “The tea tasting should be beginning.”
It was the perfect excuse to whisk her away back to the safety of the tea factory.
Again, he was thankful that Zaynab didn’t struggle against him. Ara wished that was all it took to ease the disquiet fisting his heart. Like his mood, the clouds grew stormier, the pale gray churning darker.
They climbed to the second-floor covered balcony of the building where the restaurant operated when the rain started. Their small table, like the other tables all aligned in a row against the wooden railing, was set up for their private tea-tasting experience. Normally the stream of hot water from the teapot and the inviting steam curling up from his cup would have calmed him. Embedded in Somali culture, tea was a large part of his upbringing, and he’d always preferred it to a cup of coffee. Though right then he didn’t think he could sample the assortment of herbal and black teas past the calcifying bile obstructing his throat.
He couldn’t stop replaying the incident with the wild pig defending her piglet and how close Zaynab had been to bodily harm. And not just Zaynab, but their baby—
It would’ve been my fault. Because it had been his idea to bring her here.
Zaynab hadn’t even seemed to care that she was nearly mowed over by an enraged boar.
“Are you okay?” Frowning at him, she lowered her teacup.
Ara forced his leg still and scowled, grumbling, “I’m fine.”
“Really? Because you look ready to leap out of your skin,” she remarked with raised brows. “Is this about the wild pig?”
She spoke as if the boar hadn’t represented everything he feared happening to her without his protection. All he wanted to do was safeguard her and their child, and Zaynab wasn’t helping him do that.
Why was she making this so difficult for him? And why was she fighting against their living together when it made the most sense to both be there for their baby?
Ara bit back his boiling frustration, knowing that unleashing it would have the opposite effect on Zaynab.
So, he attempted a different tactic. One he’d considered but had hoped he wouldn’t need to use. Even thinking about his parents pained him as freshly as if they passed yesterday and not more than sixteen years ago. But it felt like a last resort now to get Zaynab on board with his plan.
