The Best Laid Plans

by Lauren Gallagher

“No kidding.”

  We took seats at an empty table, and I started pulling dishes out of the bag. “So how’s work been?”

  He shrugged as he popped the lid on a bowl of salad. “Today’s been a typical Black Friday.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep. About an hour ago, I had to stitch a lady’s forehead after someone hit her with a TV.”

  “A—” I blinked. “What?”

  “They were fighting over the last few flat screens, and I guess the other person grabbed the floor model and hit her with it.” He gestured at the side of his head. “Screen shattered and cut her up good.”

  I grimaced. “Ouch.”

  “Well, as it happens”—he grinned—“that’s what she said.”

  Snickering, I shook my head. “Wow. People.”

  “Yep. Besides her, it’s the usual—people getting stepped on, shoved into things.” He waved a hand. “Same as every year.”

  “Ugh.”

  “What about yours?” He sipped his drink. “I assume it wasn’t terribly eventful?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged. “It was everything you’d expect from a holiday with my parents, plus the added questions about Kendra.”

  “I’m assuming you didn’t mention anything to them about our arrangement with her?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “No, no, no. I’m pretty sure my grandmother would’ve dropped dead of heart failure, and then they’d all have something else to beat me over the head about.”

  Shahid winced.

  I touched his hand. “It’s them, not you. Relax.”

  “I know. I just hate that you have to put up with this every year.” He paused. “What do they think of Kendra?”

  “So far, they adore her. But they don’t know the details.”

  “Probably for the best.”

  “Right?” I paused. “Oh, and for the record, my sister is still not over last October.”

  “Seriously?” Shahid groaned, letting his face fall into his hand. “What part of it does she not understand?”

  I rolled my eyes as I took a deep breath. “She understands fully, Shahid. Going to Mecca is something you’re supposed to do once in your life, but it doesn’t have to be a specific year, and it was a selfish dick move for you to pick the year she was getting married.”

  He snorted. “I don’t suppose you mentioned that it was selfish of her to schedule her wedding during Dhu al-Hijjah?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “No. Definitely not. I’m pretty sure Grandma would’ve called in an exorcist at that point.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “My sister, though.” I groaned. “She actually told Kendra it was better to spend Thanksgiving with my family than yours because at least we wouldn’t make her wear a burqa.”

  Shahid choked on his drink. When he’d recovered, a laugh burst out of him. “She’s still hung up on that, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Even after there wasn’t a single burqa in sight at our wedding.”

  “Hijab, burqa—same thing.”

  “Some people are beyond educating, I guess.” He rolled his eyes and took another sip of tea. “Now I kind of wish I had gone to her wedding.”

  “What? Why?”

  He shrugged. “What other opportunity would I have to give a woman a burqa as a gag gift?”

  My jaw fell open. “You…you wouldn’t really, would you?”

  “Of course not.” As he brought his tea up to his lips, he muttered, “I wouldn’t spend that much on her.”

  Chuckling, I patted his arm. “I think you picked the right year to go to Mecca.”

  “I think so too.” Shahid laughed. “How did Kendra handle them?”

  “She went back and forth between trying not to laugh and staring at my sister like she’d lost her mind.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  We ate in silence for a moment.

  Then he smirked. “I had to reset the counter again today.”

  “Oh, there’s a shock. So what happened?”

  “Old guy came in, and he had his son with him.” Shahid shook his head, laughing dryly. “Son was cute—maybe early twenties or so?”

  “Perv.”

  “Pfft. You would’ve been checking him out too.”

  “Of course, but you were supposed to be treating his dad, not ogling him.”

  “Hey, you gotta enjoy the scenery sometimes.” Shahid grinned. “Anyway, so while I’m taking the guy’s vitals, he’s giving me the dirtiest look the whole time. Didn’t say a word until I came in after his son had gone to get some coffee.”

  “Oh Lord.” I grimaced, not sure I wanted to know what was coming.

  “He wags his finger at me”—Shahid mimicked the gesture, and adopted a gravelly old-man voice. “My older boy got shot at over in your country.”

  I facepalmed. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. But the best part is, right as the son is coming back into the room, the old guy says, ‘He and his boys must’ve taken out a hundred of your kind.’”

  I nearly choked. “No way.” It never ceased to amaze me the things people said to him, especially when he was trying to help them. “What did his son say?”

  “Oh, the kid was mortified.” Shahid laughed. “He was apologizing left and right, even after his dad was discharged. I told him not to worry about it.” His humor faded. “Poor kid’s probably still red in the face over it.”

  “Well, at least he had the good graces to apologize on his dad’s behalf.”

  “True. But, nevertheless…” Shahid sighed theatrically. “The counter had to be reset.”

  “Damn. Better luck this time, right?”

  “Yep.”

  We both laughed, and continued eating.

  After we’d finished, we walked back to the emergency room waiting area. There, as we always did, we exchanged a brief kiss, and neither of us even glanced at the man grumbling about “damn queers” a few feet away.

  “You’ll be asleep when I get home,” he said. “But I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yes, you will. Don’t work too hard.”

  “I won’t. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  One more kiss and then he turned to go, and I headed out to the car.

  All the way out of the parking lot, onto the freeway, and into the Black Friday traffic, our conversation replayed in my head. Slowly, my heart sank. As much as we joked about the sparks he and my sister struck off each other, it bugged me. My sister’s stubborn refusal to cut Shahid—or his religion—any slack had grown tiresome after the first year or so. After this long, it was creeping into much more hostile territory. As if the little oversights and seemingly innocent ignorance were a much more calculated series of microaggressions designed to make Shahid feel less and less welcome among his in-laws. And then everyone was mystified—and even miffed—when he spent less and less time among them.

  Maybe next year, I’d just stay home. Even if I only saw him during the brief breaks between his longer shifts, it’d be less stressful. Especially if—if—there was a baby in our lives by then.

  That thought brought a smile to my lips. Extended family or not, it was impossible not to be thrilled at the prospect of finally having our family. We’d deal with holidays as they came.

  For tonight, I’d just be giddy about the little secret I shared with Kendra and Shahid.

  And hopefully next year, we’d have some news that would overshadow my family’s omnipresent drama.

  * * * * *

  It was almost four in the afternoon before Shahid crawled out of bed the next day. Poor guy was always wiped after a holiday, but after his salat and a cup of tea, he was more or less awake.

  Just in time, as it happened, for Kendra to come by.

  I greeted
her with a long kiss, and Shahid gave her one that was shorter but definitely not platonic. I didn’t let them hear my breath catch—oh, the things I would’ve sold my soul to watch them do together. It wasn’t going to happen, though, so I just stole glances while they kissed hello.

  Instantly, I was restless. I hadn’t been in the same room with both of them in a few days, and it felt like forever. Suddenly movies and ordering pizza didn’t sound nearly as appealing as it had before he’d woken up and she’d arrived.

  Can I just drag them both upstairs right now?

  But I bit that back and settled on the couch with them.

  Shahid sipped his tea. “So I hear you had a fun Thanksgiving?”

  Kendra groaned. “Oh my God.”

  He chuckled, patting her arm. “Gabe told me.”

  “Well, it was certainly…” Kendra lowered her drink. “Entertaining.”

  “You could call it that,” I muttered.

  “Especially your sister.” Kendra whistled. “She really can hold a grudge, can’t she?”

  Shahid raised an eyebrow. “A grudge? About—oh. That? Seriously?”

  “But of course.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised she still hasn’t let that go?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who missed her wedding.” I showed my palms. “You know there was nothing in the world that could possibly be more important than her wedding.”

  Kendra grimaced. “God help you when she has a baby shower.”

  Shahid and I both groaned.

  “I love my sister to death,” I said. “But man, sometimes she doesn’t see past the end of her own nose.”

  “Sometimes?” Shahid muttered.

  I glared at him but shrugged.

  “How do you guys think your families are going to take it?” she asked. “When they find out about the hypothetical baby?”

  “Well,” I said, “my mother will be overcome with horror over how her gay son and son-in-law managed to cause a baby to happen, and she’ll be excited as hell that she’s finally going to be a grandmother.” I shrugged. “Her head will probably explode.”

  Shahid laughed. “That sounds about right, actually.”

  “What about yours?” she asked.

  He sobered. “It’s hard to say. They’re not thrilled about things like IVF either, for the same reasons as Gabe’s family. But natural conception might…” He grimaced.

  “I guess that brings me to my next question.” Kendra raised her eyebrows. “Sooner or later, some nosy asshole is going to ask how exactly we caused a baby to happen, as you put it. So, maybe we should decide now what our stock answer is going to be?”

  Shahid shrugged. “I figure if they’re nosy enough to ask, we might as well tell them the truth.”

  “Hmm.” I shifted my weight and pursed my lips. “I guarantee my mother is going to ask because she really has issues with the idea of IVF. As much as she might not like finding out that we did this naturally, it might be the lesser of two evils in her mind.”

  She stared at me and blinked a few times. “Your family is weird, Gabe.”

  “What? They’re—”

  “No, she’s right,” Shahid said. “They’re weird.”

  I tried to glare at each of them in turn, but then sighed. “Okay, yes. They are.”

  We all laughed, but quietly, almost uncomfortably.

  “So.” Kendra cleared her throat and folded her hands. “Since Gabe and I don’t have cross-country on Monday, I made an appointment with an attorney to iron out logistics. My divorce lawyer recommended him.”

  “Good,” Shahid said. “If I have any questions afterward, I’m sure we can follow up with the guy if we need to.”

  “Oh yeah. He’s very good about responding to e-mails. And he doesn’t charge out the ass just to send a quick reply.”

  “Perfect.” I glanced at Shahid. “We’ll come up with a list of questions, and you should probably come up with one two.”

  She smiled. “Already a step ahead of you.”

  “Sounds like we’re ready, then,” I said.

  “Yes. But lawyers and agreements are boring.” She flashed a grin that sent a shiver right down my spine. “Now that we’re all back after the holiday, I think we should get back to the more interesting part of this whole arrangement.” Her eyebrows rose.

  Oh yes. Yes, please. Yesssss.

  I was already hardening, and swallowed as I glanced at Shahid.

  His grin was almost as filthy as hers. “That bed’s going to get a workout tonight, isn’t it?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  “Well then.” Kendra wrapped an arm around me, and curved her hand over my ass. “What exactly are we waiting for?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kendra

  The consultation with the attorney was boring but informative. Much less stressful than meeting with my divorce lawyer, which didn’t surprise me—I wasn’t climbing the walls with frustration over my ex-husband making things unnecessarily difficult.

  The meeting wasn’t what I’d call painless, though. Not because of the discussion, but because everything from my ribs to my knees ached like a motherfucker. If pain were a sound, it alternated between an irritating noise in the background to an air horn blaring right into my ear—distracting, annoying, sometimes making me want to scream and other times making me want to cry. Or curl up under the table and never move again. Ever.

  When the meeting was over, I rose—carefully—and shook my lawyer’s hand.

  As Gabe and I headed out, he turned to me. “You all right? You seem kind of—”

  “Pale, bitchy, bloated and uncomfortable?” I pushed open the door. “Get used to it. I’ll be like this for a week out of every month for a while.”

  “Oh. Gotcha.” He paused. “Will you be okay to drive?”

  “I better be,” I grumbled. “Or else I’m fucked.”

  We went back to his place to grade papers, since we were kind of behind on that lately. At least there wasn’t anything to distract us this time. If the man even mentioned sex, I was going to kill him.

  As I settled on the couch with my briefcase full of neglected exams and worksheets, Gabe went upstairs, and he came back down with a heating pad.

  “Here.” He plugged it in and handed it to me. “This is what I use when my back is jacked up.”

  “Oh, thank you.” I laid it across my stomach. “I don’t suppose we could sweet-talk your man into smuggling out some drugs from work?”

  “Afraid not. I do have some Percocet upstairs from the last time I fucked up my back, though.”

  I scowled. “I was thinking more along the lines of general anesthesia.”

  He sat beside me and patted my leg. “That might be an awful lot of equipment for him to hide under his scrubs.”

  “He already hides plenty of equipment under his scrubs.” I winked, and we both laughed, which hurt. I tucked the heating pad against me, wishing it would hurry up and do its damn job.

  As long as I didn’t move, I was all right. Well, most of the time. Sometimes, the pain would flare up out of nowhere, blurring my vision and making my breath catch.

  “You okay?” Gabe asked after a cramp took my breath away.

  I nodded. “Just be glad you’re a guy.”

  “Oh, I am. I still have that Percocet.”

  “No, it’s okay.” The pain slowly receded to something slightly less violent, and I exhaled. “If I take something like that, I’ll be loopy for the rest of the night.” I fully expected a joke about how that was different from usual, or to let him know so he could film it, but his expression remained serious.

  “Kendra, if it’s that bad, I—”

  “I’ll be fine.” I forced a smile. “I promise.”

  Grading kept us busy for the rest of th
e afternoon and into the evening, with Gabe running back and forth between the couch and the kitchen. By the time Shahid had texted to say he was on his way home, the house smelled wonderful, and despite feeling like I’d been bludgeoned in the gut with a flaming meteor, my mouth watered.

  And right on time, Shahid came in through the front door. He’d barely shut it before his eyes went right to the heating pad. “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” I waved a hand. “Cramps.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He leaned down and kissed me lightly. “Is the heat helping?”

  “Mmhmm. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’ve been trying to get drugs down her all day.” Gabe kissed Shahid hello. “It’s a lost cause.”

  “Stubborn patients,” Shahid muttered, but winked.

  Gabe looked at his watch. “Let me check on dinner.” He stood. “Should be ready right around the time you’re done with your salat.”

  “Perfect.” Shahid kissed him again, and gestured at the stairs. “I should get started on that.” He paused. To me, he said, “It’s okay if we leave you for—”

  “Yes, it’s fine. Promise.”

  He hesitated but gave a slight nod and headed upstairs while his husband disappeared into the kitchen.

  Gabe was right—literally the instant Shahid came down the stairs after his salat, dinner was ready.

  I started to get up, but a sharp pain stopped me. I held my breath until it had passed, then cautiously exhaled and drew another breath. My head spun and my knees shook, but slowly, I found my balance again, and continued onto my feet.

  “Whoa.” Shahid suddenly appeared beside me. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” I leaned on the couch for a second. “Stupid uterus.”

  He didn’t laugh. His brow pinched with concern. “Why don’t you stay here and get comfortable, and I’ll go get you a plate.”

  Even my pride couldn’t argue with him. The mere thought of getting up and walking all the way into the next room was enough to make my head spin.

  “Thank you.” I sank back onto the cushions, and while Shahid disappeared into the kitchen, rearranged myself until all the muscles and organs and gremlins and whatever had settled down again.