Another Shot at Forever, page 7
Nothing changed that until they came to the end of the tour.
Then Zaynab asked, “Isn’t it a bit...overly done?”
Ara swept his gaze over the glamorous townhome’s primary bedroom, but unable to pinpoint what the trouble was, he shrugged. “Feel free to redesign the decor to your tastes.”
“It’s not about taste,” Zaynab stressed and threw open her arms. “It’s far too much space, isn’t it? It’ll only be the two of us until I give birth, and even then all of this is excessive. Three families could live here.”
“We’re not letting any of the floors.” Though they technically could and keep one of the separate flats for themselves, Ara scowled at the idea of having strangers in close proximity. No amount of background checks would offer him the peace of mind to allow that to happen. He’d always known that people were unreliable. Zaynab’s father came to mind. Sharmarke had been like a mentor to Ara, tutoring him in his university-level business courses, and when his parents died, he’d become a surrogate father figure.
That was why it had felt like a betrayal to learn of the atrocities that Sharmarke had committed. Knowing that he’d willingly allowed that evil into his life was a reminder that Ara couldn’t ever be too careful around others.
Even Zaynab could hurt him if he wasn’t careful, if he allowed himself to give in to the fanciful thinking that this was about saving their marriage rather than providing the best life for their child. And in order to do that, Ara needed Zaynab to be content.
“If this house doesn’t suit you, we can look at other available properties together,” he suggested, frowning when she shook her head.
“No, it’s not that. I just... I’m overwhelmed.”
“So, the house is all right.”
“It’s perfect,” she said with a snort and a roll of her eyes. “Are you kidding me? My mum wouldn’t believe it if I showed her.”
“We can have a guest room reserved especially for her for when she visits.”
Naturally he would’ve thought Zaynab would be pleased by his suggestion, but her expression grew panicked.
Before he could wonder if he’d misspoken, she paced in front of him and said, “I haven’t told you yet, but my mum, well she doesn’t know that we’re doing this thing that we’re doing.”
“Living together,” he clarified.
“Yes, that. She doesn’t know, and I’m not ready to tell her, so...”
“And you wish for me not to tell her either.” Ara filled in what she was obviously struggling to ask of him.
“Please,” she said with a nod, her hopeful little smile and beautiful brown eyes melting some of the ice that had seeped into him when he realized that he’d become some sort of dirty secret to her. Though nowhere nearly enough to keep him from clenching his jaw and jerking his chin in affirmation.
But he couldn’t entirely let it go.
“Why hide it?” he asked.
Zaynab’s smile slipped and she stopped pacing, looking away from him at the doors leading out from the bedroom to the balcony. “My mum doesn’t know about the divorce. And I’m not ready to tell her about that either, especially now that it isn’t final. At least not yet.”
It wasn’t the first time Ara heard her sounding adamant about dissolving their marriage. She was set on making it happen, and these six months were only a stumbling block to her. A part of him had hoped that she would be more open to reconsider their relationship. Not for the sake of love or anything so romantic, but because it would be easier on their child. Although his parents hadn’t lived to see him today, they had given him a happy, stable family life prior to his leaving for college. He didn’t know the type of man he’d be without knowing that kind of love and dedication.
He wanted the same for his son or daughter. And when he pictured that, he couldn’t see a life without Zaynab by his side.
Telling her all of this would probably just push her further along the path of divorce. If he wanted this, he’d have to approach the subject carefully, and not right then when she was smiling again and beautifully if not a little sadly.
“I know you might not understand, but it would break her heart to know that we’re planning to end things.” Zaynab opened the balcony doors and walked out, gripping the iron railing, and heaved a sigh that wasn’t entirely despondent. “This place is really like a palace. I would be so lucky to call it my home.”
“Good, because it is yours.”
“What?” Zaynab rounded sharply on him, the pretty view of this affluent neighborhood forgotten. “What do you mean ‘it’s mine’?”
“The transfer of ownership isn’t official until you sign off and have a solicitor notarize it, which I could help you seek out.”
She stared at him speechlessly.
Unnerved by her quietness, Ara curled his fingers through his beard. Had he displeased her?
“I can’t accept this,” she said with a slow shake of her head.
“Why not?”
Her eyes widened, and she looked at him as though he’d asked the obvious. “Because I just can’t, Ara. It’s too much.”
“It’s a gift,” he intoned.
“It’s a house. A very big, very expensive house.”
He could tell there was more to her reason for not accepting the transfer of ownership than what she was saying, but since he couldn’t pry the whole truth out of her, Ara settled on appealing to her senses.
“It’s also a part of your mahr.” As part of the marriage contract they’d both signed, he and Zaynab had agreed to a contractual dowry that he’d pay if they were to ever divorce. And now that that was looking like more of a reality, Ara had zero intention of depriving her of what he’d promised her. “It’s my obligation to you, and the house should satisfy it.”
When she still didn’t budge, he moved in closer to her—as close as he dared to risk a whiff of her honeyed oud fragrance, then after lowering the hand lazily combing through his beard, he fished the house key from inside of his coat pocket.
The key itself wouldn’t be needed to enter the house. Not when he would soon have the home equipped with state-of-the-art biometric locks. But for now the key was symbolic of the house’s true owner.
“Take the key, Zaynab.” He held it out to her.
“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, the indecisiveness still playing out over her beautiful face.
Taking her hand gently, he turned her palm up and settled the key in her grip and closed her fingers around it.
“There’s nothing more to say,” he told her.
He let her go, not expecting her to raise her other hand and touch his cheek—
Ara jerked back from her.
Zaynab pulled away too. “The scar...”
“What about it?” he heard how gruff he sounded and hated that he’d revealed more emotion in that moment than every other time with her. And considering the way the last time he let his feelings out to play had resulted in her pregnant, Ara rather preferred not being emotional.
“It’s healed well, that’s all.” A beat of silence throbbed between them and then she quietly wondered, “Does it hurt you?”
“No.”
“May I?” She lifted her hand again, and damn it, but he couldn’t deny her.
He wasn’t too bothered by the scar before, but lately, ever since he’d returned from Mauritius and knew that she awaited him in London to start a life with him, Ara had grown obsessed with the physical disfigurement. It represented a time when he’d been at his second most vulnerable, when the explosion that had rocked the hotel he had booked in Mogadishu was bombed randomly. The first time was when his university administrators had pulled him aside and informed him that he had lost his parents.
Growing the beard hadn’t been purposeful, but once he looked in the mirror and saw less of the scar, he liked it.
She traced her finger over the old wound gently, following the puckered lighter line from where it started at the top of his cheekbone, right below his eye, and slashing down to just above his lower jawbone. He expected her to stop where his beard concealed that larger, lower portion of the scar, but Zaynab kept moving down, her fingertip softly tickling him and raising goose bumps over his arms.
“You’re growing your beard?”
Hearing the question in her voice, he grunted affirmatively, unable to do more than that.
“It looks good,” she praised.
She slid her finger up and then cupped his cheek, her thumb smoothing over the scar gently. He closed his eyes and swallowed down the growl rumbling through his chest. God, was she doing this to drive him to madness and beyond? As strong-willed as he could be, it was taking a Herculean effort not to give in to the sheer sinful temptation she posed him right then. But he couldn’t kiss her. He couldn’t lower his head and remind himself of how she tasted. He. Just. Couldn’t.
“Ara.” She spoke his name on a breathy little whisper before leaning closer.
Gritting his teeth from the sheer force of self-restraint, he had a flash of déjà vu when they were in such a position.
Maybe it was a good thing then that a dog began barking loudly and sharply from one of the nearby terraced houses.
“If you ever need to talk to someone,” she said, and drew her hand away and stole the chance of kissing her from him.
Ara tightened his lips but nodded. He probably never would, and yet knowing her offer was available made him hotter for her. That certainly wasn’t the way he should feel about the wife that was determined to divorce him.
The wife who was carrying his precious baby.
And the wife who might have almost just kissed him, and whom he certainly would’ve kissed back.
CHAPTER SIX
A FEW WEEKS ago Ara wouldn’t have pictured himself idling in his car in the middle of London while waiting on Zaynab to finish up working and meet him outside.
And yet also a few weeks ago he hadn’t thought he’d be a father.
Hadn’t ever imagined that he would be excited to meet his son or daughter.
But here he was, looking at his copy of the ultrasound that Zaynab had gifted him and stroking the small pale face in utter awe at the life he’d helped create. A life that would rely on him to protect it.
Ara gritted his teeth as fear prickled his scalp.
Every day brought him boundless joy but also a creeping doubt that he wouldn’t be able to keep his family together. And what happened when the doubt eclipsed the happy moments he had thus far shared with Zaynab on this journey of parenthood?
She pushes me out of her and the baby’s lives.
Ara tucked the ultrasound back into his wallet, his mind stormier now. A knock on his car window made him realize he had zoned out and missed Zaynab’s arrival. Quickly unlocking the car door for her, he braced himself as a rush of wintry air flooded in with her. She dropped back into the passenger seat and heaved a long drawn-out but contented sigh, reaching out and hovering her hands over the car heater.
“That feels so good. It’s nearly the end of February and it’s still freezing,” she groused, shivering and rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
He shook his head. “I only just got here.” It was a lie; he’d left early to avoid any traffic. He didn’t want her waiting in the cold for him, not when he volunteered to give her the rides to and from her workplace.
“And you’re still good to go shopping? Because the fridge is dangerously close to empty, and the pantry’s getting near there too.”
Ara started the engine and pulled out before replying, “Of course, we can’t have Button going hungry.”
Zaynab snorted. “Forget Button. Mama’s hungry,” she joked.
“Let’s eat dinner first then. The groceries can wait.”
Just as he began interpreting the stretch of silence from her to mean she wasn’t interested in his offer of dinner, she said, “Are you sure? Because I’d rather not take up more of your time. I feel bad enough when you pick me up. You know I could just take a couple of buses and the tube.”
“It’s no bother for me to drive you around, and I might as well familiarize myself with the city.”
“Okay, but you’ll let me know if you ever change your mind.”
He wouldn’t be doing that ever, and yet seeing that she wanted confirmation for her peace of mind, Ara dipped his chin. “You’ll be the first to know if that happens. Now, how about you tell me how your day went.”
The remainder of the drive was filled with Zaynab giving him a play-by-play of her eventful day working with her elderly client, Opaline. He listened while she told him about the salacious gossip at the high tea party that she helped host with Opaline for a gaggle of the older woman’s friends. She drew rumbling laughter from him a couple of times, and he carried the easygoing mood into a busy East London fast-food eatery.
“We might not find a seat,” Zaynab warned, turning to look at him over her shoulder when she was pushed back against him by a couple rowdy teenagers play-fighting in line in front of them.
Settling his hands over her shoulders to steady her against him, Ara made eye contact with the teens and glared menacingly enough for them to straighten up after a quick apology. Satisfied that they wouldn’t continue their horseplay, he looked down at where his hands still gripped her. She had her back pressed to his front, the soft dip between her waist and wide hips temptingly within reach, and her body heat seeping through his button-down shirt and awakening his ever-present desire for her.
Being attracted to his wife wasn’t a problem, but it would complicate their arrangement. Reminding himself that Zaynab wanted their divorce to still happen was a good way to cool his overheated blood.
Once he was able to do that, taking his hands off her and putting some fraction of space between them was easier.
“Let’s go someplace else,” she suggested.
He quietly obliged, and they strolled back out onto the high street where they had a wide and varied selection of restaurants and cafés to choose from. Zaynab picked for them again, and he didn’t argue.
Unfortunately, this restaurant was just as overpacked as the other one had been.
“We’re not having much luck, are we?” she said with a soft groan.
“We don’t have to wait to eat. There’s always the option of food delivery,” he said after seeing the way she rubbed her stomach. He didn’t want her going hungry on his watch.
“All right, I guess we can do takeout,” Zaynab agreed. “It might be a long while before we’re seated.”
Ara shadowed her as she turned to leave the restaurant, his hand instinctively settling over the small of her back. She’d already nearly been toppled over by unruly kids in the other restaurant; he didn’t want a repeat performance of that as the dinner rush seemed to be striking every eating establishment within walking distance.
Zaynab had almost reached the exit with him by her side when her name being called stopped them both.
A smiling woman in a hot-pink hijab and mustard-yellow blazer and trousers was beelining their way. “Zaynab! It is you!” she exclaimed and threw her arms around her before Ara could react. He would’ve assessed the woman as a threat if Zaynab hadn’t gasped and hugged her back tightly.
“Oh, my goodness, Neelima,” Zaynab said, pulling back and grabbing her friend’s hands. “How long has it been? And when did you get back from working in America?”
Grinning, Neelima pulled her left hand out of Zaynab’s grasp and flashed it so that the diamond ring was hard to miss.
Zaynab’s loud, exalted gasp drew heads their direction.
Squealing together, the two women hugged again.
“We’ve been married six months now, but my husband’s job brought him here about a month ago. We still haven’t found a place of our own, so we’re living nearby at my parents’ place.”
Ara gave up following the conversation after that, instead waiting for Zaynab to finish catching up with her friend. He looked around to ensure no other surprises sprang up on them. When he looked at Zaynab, he smiled at seeing her glowing expression of happiness. And he was caught staring at her by both Zaynab and her friend.
“Who’s this?” her friend asked, the smile she gave him more restrained and polite.
“My husband, Ara.” Zaynab said it so easily it surprised him, especially given their divorce was still very much the elephant in the room with them.
“You’re married too!” Neelima clapped her hands happily, and both she and Zaynab giggled together. Then came the shower of questions from her friend. How long had they been married? How did they meet? Was it love at first sight?
Zaynab answered most but that last query. Her friend Neelima didn’t notice, her curiosity about his and Zaynab’s relationship seemingly sated, but Ara wondered what it meant that Zaynab hadn’t responded.
And now that he was thinking about it, had it been love at first glance for him?
Meeting Zaynab wasn’t anything he’d planned. Her father orchestrated it, first approaching Ara about a possible marriage match. Of course Sharmarke hadn’t disclosed that the match was with his daughter and only child from his first marriage. Not until Zaynab was standing before Ara on their first date aboard his yacht. He’d taken one look at her on his ship’s deck, the blue ocean as her backdrop and her pretty face and white abaya awash in the orange glow of sunset, and he’d been as close to smitten as he could be...
He could pretend that he’d been searching for love, but the truth was Ara hadn’t cared about any of that. In the beginning his sole motivation in agreeing to a blind date with Zaynab was to lower Sharmarke’s guard and get closer to his dark secrets. It had been around that time that Ara had started digging into his father-in-law, and he’d been getting nowhere until Sharmarke started trying to matchmake him.
