The Best Laid Plans

by Lauren Gallagher

  Except it felt completely different this time. The room was quiet except for the occasional slosh or water or wine if I moved just right. I wasn’t angry. I didn’t feel betrayed. This time it was sadness and emptiness and shame, wondering if our friendship could recover from this enough to be what it had been before, and hating myself for playing any role in shaking that marriage’s rock-solid foundation.

  And at the same time, it was weird not to be able to call or text them. It was weird for all these bullshit emotions to be swirling around them and my relationship with them. Like suddenly developing an allergy to the one drug that actually helped, and being at a loss for what the hell to do now.

  The guys couldn’t fix this any more than they could fix my divorce or my grandma dying, but just having them there made it easier to breathe.

  And having me there, I suspected, would make it harder for both of them to breathe.

  I needed to talk to someone, though, so I leaned over the tub’s edge and fished around in my clothes until I found my phone. Then I called my sister.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I said when Tina picked up.

  “Hey, Ken. What’s up?”

  “Listen, um…” My voice was shaking, damn it. “Remember that arrangement I told you about? With—”

  “The surrogate one?”

  “Yeah.”

  She was silent for a moment. Then, cautiously: “What happened?”

  I explained it as best I could, but half of what the doctor had told me was fuzzy. I’d been in too much shock to absorb it all, and even reading the literature she’d given me hadn’t been enough to drive anything past the red neon I’m never having biological children flashing in my brain.

  When I was finished, my sister exhaled hard. “Wow. I’m sorry to hear it, sweetie.”

  “I’m a lot more floored than I thought I’d be. I mean, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted kids of my own yet, but knowing I can’t, I feel like the decision has been made for me.” I rubbed my eyes. “And now I kind of feel like I’ve been kicked twice, because the guys…” How to even put that into words?

  “They’re not being assholes about it, are they?” Tina asked in her I will kick their asses voice.

  “No! No. Nothing like that. But I mean… Well, we were trying to do this naturally, you know?” And talking to my sister about this is so fucking weird. “I guess I don’t know. Maybe I thought three of us were closer than we are.”

  Maybe we were. And maybe that’s why Shahid is putting a stop to the whole thing.

  I’m so sorry, guys. I miss—

  “Have you thought about getting a second opinion?”

  “I don’t know.” I stared into my empty wineglass, wondering if I could fill it all the way to the brim. “I’ll go in and talk to my doctor again, but I doubt much will change. She thinks my best option is a partial hysterectomy.”

  “Hmm. A lot of doctors push for that the moment there’s anything wrong in the female department.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure what else can be done.” The ultrasound images flashed through my mind. “The, um, damage is pretty extensive.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “I wasn’t expecting it and all, but I mean, why does this hurt so much?”

  “Of course it hurts. What woman doesn’t want to hear that she can’t have a baby?”

  Fresh tears stung. I didn’t know how to explain to her that it wasn’t the fact that I couldn’t have a baby. It was, in a way, but not the way she thought. It was as if this arrangement had accidentally brought me closer to Gabe and Shahid, and I was more devastated by losing that than by the prospect of never having biological children. It went beyond getting too attached. Or did it?

  “God, I’m such an idiot,” I whispered, more to myself.

  “No, you’re not. And maybe it’s a good thing. I mean, you found out there’s a problem before you went to have kids of your own.”

  I set my glass on the tub’s edge and wiped my eyes. She’d undoubtedly meant well and thought I’d dodged a bullet by finding this out now rather than when—in her mind—it counted, but having this baby for the guys had been more important to me than she could realize. Than even I had realized until very recently.

  Great. Not only did I get their hopes up for nothing, but I might’ve helped throw a monkey wrench into their marriage.

  How the hell do I make this right?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Shahid

  Normally, the wudu ritual calmed and centered me. It was a series of motions I’d had memorized since a child. Wash my face. Wash my arms to the elbows three times—right side first, then left. Wash my head. Wash my feet to the ankles three times—right side first, then left. All the while murmuring the basmala and focusing my mind so I could perform my salat.

  Tonight, I struggled. Already, I’d had to start over twice because I’d forgotten a step, or forgotten if I’d performed a step.

  And once again, I stopped.

  Looked down at my hands.

  Was this the second time I’d washed them? Or the third?

  I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t remember. Which meant I had to start over to make sure it was done right.

  Just as well—if my mind was wandering, then I needed to start over anyway. And it was definitely wandering. Even at my most stressed, I rarely had to work this hard to settle into my prayer routine.

  This was pointless. For the first time in years, I gave up. I’d long suspected that Allah would be more forgiving of a skipped prayer than a halfhearted one, and if I even made it to the prayers, they would definitely be halfhearted. My concentration was just shot. I could go through wudu a hundred times, and I’d still be too distracted.

  Tomorrow, I’d make up for it. Tonight, there were other things that needed to be addressed.

  I left my salat room and went downstairs.

  As I came into the living room, Gabe did a double take. “You’re done already?”

  “No, I…” I struggled to hold his gaze “I can’t concentrate.”

  He swallowed. “You okay?”

  “To be honest?” I crossed the room and sat down beside him, keeping some distance between us. “I don’t know.”

  Gabe sat up. “What’s wrong?”

  “I guess I’ve been thinking about everything with Kendra.”

  “About what happened between me and her?”

  “That, and…” I swallowed. “Everything, I guess. We’re supposed to go back to being friends with her. Everything should be normal, the same way it was before, and you and I will find some other way to have a family.”

  “Or accept that we won’t have kids.”

  I tried, for his benefit, not to wince. “Right.”

  He drummed his fingers rapidly on his leg. “Kendra understands. She’s okay with us going back to the way we were.”

  “Good. Good.”

  Gabe tilted his head. “Are we going back to the way we were?”

  “You tell me.”

  He drew back, and I realized the words had come out sharper than I’d intended.

  I draped my arm across the back of the couch. “You’ve barely said two words to me ever since I told you I wanted things to stop.”

  He dropped his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. “I guess I’m still processing everything.”

  “Everything the doctor said?” I asked. “Or everything I said?”

  “What do you want me to say, Shahid?” he snapped, and we both jumped.

  I moistened my lips. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

  He stared at me. I stared at him.

  “Just say it,” I said. “If there’s something more between you and Kendra, just say it.”

  I would have given anything for him to throw up his hands again and curs
e a few times before telling me this was ridiculous. That I was being paranoid, worrying over nothing, seeing things where they didn’t exist.

  But he flinched.

  Subtly but unmistakably.

  His eyes darted away from me, and slowly, he deflated.

  Gabe…

  He pulled in a breath. “Remember how I told you there wasn’t a woman on earth who could take me away from you?”

  My throat constricted, but I nodded.

  “That hasn’t changed. Nobody could take me away from you.” Gabe exhaled. “But I have feelings for her too. I’m in love with you. And I’m…” He avoided my eyes, and my heart sank deeper with every beat.

  “Say it,” I whispered. “You’re in love with her too.”

  Eyes still down, he nodded. “I’m sorry, Shahid.”

  “Say it.”

  “I love her, okay?” He looked me right in the eye, his gleaming with anger and hurt and more emotions than I could read in one glance. “I…I love her.”

  I found absolutely no relief in his confession. Not even in the fact that he was telling me the truth. Knowing he loved her—it hurt. Plain and simple. It just hurt.

  “It doesn’t change how I feel about you,” Gabe said.

  “But I can’t compete with her.”

  “Compete?” He blinked. “What? No, I wouldn’t ask you to. You’re my husband. You’re the man I want to have a family with. That hasn’t changed.”

  “So what about her?”

  “I have feelings for her, yes. And I’m just trying to be honest about that. But I’m not leaving you.”

  “Yet.”

  His eyebrows climbed. “Do you really believe I’d leave you for her or anyone else?”

  “Up until yesterday, I didn’t believe you’d sleep with her once the surrogate situation was—”

  “And didn’t I swear up and down that was a mistake, and not something that will happen again?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. “It kind of seemed like a no-brainer to me.”

  “Yeah?” He narrowed his eyes. “You remember how much of a shock it was when I told you what her doctor said?”

  I nodded, my stomach flipping just like it did yesterday.

  “Then maybe you can give me a little credit? I was in shock, she was in shock, and we—”

  “So what happens the next time someone drops a bomb on one of us?”

  Gabe blinked. “This was different from normal situations, wasn’t it? Up until her appointment, sex was completely fine. When we were both in shock, it…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Obviously it wouldn’t be something I’d do with someone else. Or with Kendra again. Because now that we don’t have a surrogate, I’m not having sex with anyone else. Right?”

  Deep down, it all made sense, but those insecurities that had gnawed at me for so long were creeping back with a vengeance now. Especially since I’d witnessed firsthand how much he enjoyed being intimate with a woman.

  “I guess I’m scared.” I hesitated. “To be blunt, part of me is still afraid you’re going to connect with a woman and—”

  “Jesus.” He raked a hand through his hair. “We’ve been through this millions of times before. How many years are we going to be together before you understand that I’m not leaving?”

  “Don’t you think everything that’s happened recently—”

  “Doesn’t change a goddamned thing!” He dropped his hand into his lap and stared at me incredulously. “Are we seriously having this conversation?”

  “Yes, we are. Because for some reason you can’t get it through your head that it might bother me that you jumped into bed with her after—”

  “I get why it upset you.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “I get it. And I told you it won’t happen again.”

  “You did, but I can’t get past the fact that it happened in the first place. How am I supposed to feel about that, Gabe? That you two didn’t think—”

  “How many different ways can I apologize for that? Seriously. I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere, though.”

  We locked eyes, and slowly, his expression softened. He reached across the cushion and took my hand.

  “I know that day was a mistake,” he said, his voice quiet and shaky. “I should have known at the time, but I know now.” He squeezed my hand. “You understand, right?”

  “I do. Honestly, I do.” I stared down at our hands because his eyes were too intense right then. “But do you understand where I’m coming from?”

  “All I hear is that you’re afraid I’m going to leave you. How can I convince you that I’m not going anywhere?”

  I swallowed hard, my emotions threatening to choke me.

  “Please,” he whispered. “I love you. I married you because I want to be with you forever. Nothing has changed that.”

  Clearing my throat, I watched my thumb draw arcs across the back of his hand. “Look, there’s always been a fear in the back of my mind that I’d lose you to someone eventually. Not because you’re unfaithful, because you’re not. I trust you.” I coughed again and tried to keep my voice even. “But being with someone like me…” I finally lifted my gaze. “We both know that’s not easy.”

  He searched my eyes, narrowing his slightly. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “I’ve seen how you come home after every family gathering. Your family gives you grief because of me every chance they get. You’re getting blocked at every turn for an adoption because of me.” My throat tried to close, but I continued. “With someone like Kendra, you’re—”

  “Whoa, whoa.” He put up his hands. “Just stop. If this ends with you telling me you think I’m going to leave you for Kendra because being with her would be easier, then I—”

  “Tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.”

  His lips parted.

  I swallowed, forcing back the ache in my throat. “Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never thought it would be easier with someone who isn’t—”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. You know what?” He snatched his keys off the end table. “I am not having this conversation.”

  As he headed for the door, I didn’t bother trying to stop him. He may have thought I didn’t know him, but I knew him well enough to know he was leaving, and he’d be back when he cooled off.

  But as his engine fired up and then disappeared down the road, that familiar knot of worry coiled in my gut. Every time he walked out, I was afraid it would be the last time. And every time, he came back.

  I closed my eyes and exhaled.

  He’d be back. Once he’d cooled off, he’d be back.

  Assuming I hadn’t pushed him too far this time.

  Chapter Thirty

  Gabe

  For a solid hour, I just drove around, clenching my teeth and gripping the wheel so tight, I was surprised I didn’t snap it right off the steering column. I couldn’t even say for certain where my anger was directed. On the surface, it was easy to be pissed at Shahid, but deep down, I couldn’t deny that a healthy portion of it was directed right at myself.

  I should’ve known after Kendra’s appointment that sex was crossing a line. In the back of my mind, I probably had known, but the only thing I’d thought of in the moment was comforting a friend, and we’d found comfort in a way I wouldn’t have dreamed of with anyone else. Shahid understood that, didn’t he? That there wasn’t a chance in hell it would’ve even crossed my mind to take someone else to bed right then? But Kendra and I had been intimate fairly regularly—lovers, whether Shahid or I liked the implications of that term—and sex had seemed like a natural progression that day.

  Was it cheating? Hell, I didn’t know. I supposed that was up to Shahid. Whatever name he gave it, I didn’t know how to make it clear to him that I hadn’t intended to hurt him.

 
I pressed my elbow into the window and rubbed my forehead as I followed a back road along the southern edge of town. Every explanation I came up with sounded just like something a cheater would say. Some of it was eerily similar to the bullshit Tim had fed Kendra when he’d cheated on her.

  “It just happened.”

  “It was just sex! You know I love you.”

  “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  Except Kendra did mean something to me.

  God. What have I done?

  I needed advice. A sounding board to help me figure out what to say to Shahid. There was only one person on earth I could think of to approach, and she also happened to be the last one I should even think of going near tonight. What would Shahid say? How would he feel?

  But Kendra was also a part of this. She knew me, she knew him, and she knew this arrangement. And who had always been the one to smack me upside the head and send me back to Shahid with the right words to fix whatever I’d fucked up?

  Finally, I gave up, pulled over and texted her.

  Free for coffee?

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent the message. Guilt gnawed at me, but right then, I didn’t know what else to do. Who else I could talk to about this situation without having to spend half the night explaining the situation in the first place? I prayed like hell that Shahid would understand why I was doing this. That I needed advice and didn’t know where else to go except straight to the source of the conflict between us.

  My phone vibrated.