“God, you’re acting weird, brother,” Fatim said, concern creasing his face. Nasser took the chair farthest from his bossy sibling. “I haven’t seen you act like this since right after you broke up with Willow.”
“She left me,” Nasser corrected him. He raked a hand through his hair. “I never broke up with her.”
Fatim didn’t respond to that, just crossed his arms and swiveled back and forth in his chair. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Nasser spat. “Can we please just focus on the donor report?”
Fatim narrowed his eyes. “Now something is really wrong. You never care this much about getting through the donor reports. What’s up?”
“It’s seriously nothing,” he said again, one question away from exploding.
Amad showed up a moment later, squeezing the tops of Nasser’s shoulders from behind his chair. Nasser said nothing. Amad peered down at him.
“How are you today?”
“I said I’m fucking fine!” Nasser bellowed.
“Daaamn,” Amad said, sliding into a chair at the round wooden table. “All right. Point taken. Don’t ask Nasser how he’s doing. Literally the most harmless question in the world.”
“Let’s get to the reports,” Fatim said, bringing out the folder.
“Is it woman trouble?” Amad asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Amad—” Fatim began.
“No. There’s no trouble at all, and if either of you ask again, I’ll punch you.”
Amad grimaced. Both brothers exchanged looks. Nasser wanted to punch them now anyway. Just to prove a point.
“Great,” Fatim said, shuffling his papers. “So the donor report.” The brothers began their weekly review of the status of all the different projects the tribal nation had its hands in. When the topic of the school came up, Fatim had seemingly a whole list of questions.
“Is the school slated to open on time?” he asked.
“Uh…yeah. I think so,” Nasser said.
“Why aren’t you sure?” he asked, in that tone he always used for formal obligations.
“Because I’m not overseeing the school setup. Willow is.”
“But you’ve been working with her—”
“As far as I know, yes, it’s set to open on time.” Nasser huffed, sitting back in his seat.
“Great,” Fatim went on. “And what is the competitive pay package to be offered to the starting teachers?”
Nasser just blinked. He had no freaking idea. And he hated that of course Willow was the one who knew all these answers and more. “Do you want me to text Willow to tell her to be here? Because you’re asking questions that only she can answer.”
That came super snarky. Both his brothers cocked a stern look.
“There’s something wrong in the bedroooom,” Amad whistled under his breath.
Fatim leaned forward over the table. “Do you just want to talk about it already? Calla already told me Willow moved out. So let’s just hear it.”
Amad nodded. “Yep, Vanessa told me, too. Your secret’s out of the bag. I mean your cat. God, English idioms.”
Nasser looked between Fatim and Amad. Yes, he did want to talk about it, but talking about it meant that he’d be forced to stop ignoring it. And he loved to ignore the big, bulky issues. It was just easier that way.
“Willow is going to leave me,” he blurted, the words nearly sticking in his throat.
Amad reeled back, a confused look on his face. “No, she’s not.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything—” Nasser started to stand, reaching for his phone and folder.
“Stop.” Fatim held up a hand, using that commanding king voice. “Sit down. Stay.”
“I’m not a dog,” Nasser muttered, leaning back into his chair.
“Point taken. Now continue,” Fatim said.
“I found a folder on Willow’s computer that made it pretty clear she plans to bolt soon. And with our baby no less. I found all sorts of hints about flying with infants, looking for European visas, the long-term issues of living in Germany…” He scoffed. “It’ll be like the first time she left me. I already know it.”
Amad blinked. “So have you asked her if she plans to leave?”
“No,” Nasser spat. “I already found her plans. Besides, the issues we had before? Yeah, they’re still here. And bad. It’s not even worth fighting to make her stay.”
“Whoa,” Amad said. “Whoa now. You just said it’s not even worth fighting for your unborn baby.”
“No, I said it’s not worth—” Nasser tried to correct.
“I heard what you said. And believe me, what you said is that you don’t think your family is worth fighting for.”
Amad’s words thudded over the table, and Nasser worked his jaw back and forth.
“Brother, you are hotheaded and you are passionate,” Fatim said in a softer voice. “We love it about you. You love so hard. But you’re scared, and I get it. You have a family now. Whether you want one or not. And we were not raised to let family run away just because of some stupid issue.”
“It’s not stupid,” Nasser said. “She’s obsessed with planning, and it cramps my style.” He shrugged.
“And that’s it?” Fatim asked.
Nasser sighed, swiping his phone on. “Look. I’ll show you. This calendar? It makes me want to puke.” He pulled it up, swiping through the various screens, at the built-out task lists for every individual day. “See this? This is the digital rendition of a shackle. And I didn’t sign up for that shit.”
Fatim smirked. “I kind of like it, actually.”
“Let me see.” Amad reached for the phone and peered at it, swiping through screens. “It’s a little bulky and overly detailed, but it’s not a shackle. It’s just your girlfriend’s preferred method of organization, brother. Get over it. It doesn’t have to mean anything for you.”
“Yeah, well I don’t use it, and that’s going to cause the end of our relationship.”
“Aw, look at this.” Amad smiled down at the phone, then showed the screen to Nasser. “She leaves you love notes.”
He snatched it out of his hand. “What?” He started scrolling but got frustrated and turned the screen off. “Whatever. Point is, we’re too different.”
“I thought the point was that she was going to leave you,” Fatim said.
“That too,” Nasser said, but he could feel his defenses crumbling. Speaking all of this out loud was helping him see how ridiculous it all was. But he wasn’t ready to stop fighting quite yet.
“You know what I think?” Amad said, clapping his palms against the table top. “Whatever you think you’re going to be missing by ignoring your family or acting like you don’t have a baby on the way? Trust me—it’s nothing. You won’t even remember your single life. With a hot mama like Willow and a sweet baby on the way, you’re about to be the luckiest man on earth. Well, second luckiest. After me.”
Amad’s words struck a chord in Nasser. He ran a thumb over his knuckles as he thought.
“And I think Willow is perfect for you,” Fatim added. “She’s the only one who’s ever been able to help you shine. I know you hate the calendar idea, but what does it really matter at the end of it all? This is her love language. You just can’t speak it yet.”
The rest of their meeting was mostly a formality, and Nasser dipped out as soon as he could. Back in his bedroom, which was totally empty of all signs of Willow, he paced the far wall. In his worst moments of despair, he could catch a whiff of her perfume. It was still on the pillowcase, which he inhaled for an embarrassingly long time each night before bed.
God, he wanted her. He did. So why was it so hard to admit that?
Fatim’s words sizzled in the back of his head. This is her love language. You just can’t speak it yet. What the hell did that even mean? He’d been puzzling over it for what felt like hours. He snatched up his tablet and opened the calendar app, remembering what Amad had said about love notes.
He began swiping and really looking at the contents of the calendar. He clicked on a few random days and saw how she’d broken down the notes for herself. Reminding her to take the pre-natal vitamins every day. Noting when the baby was another week older in her belly, each Monday. All of the midwife appointments marked with a pink heart. Nasser cracked a grin—was it because she thought they were having a girl? They were most certainly having a boy. He’d have to tell her that.
Except he couldn’t. Because he’d driven her away, and now the only thing remaining of Willow in his life was a string of scheduled appointments regarding the school and this shared calendar.
He was lucky she hadn’t blocked him from using it. He was curious now about everything in it. Nasser sank to the chaise longue, fisting the front of his hair as he read the contents of this calendar like it was a random novel he’d picked up and fallen in love with.
Starting at the month prior, he scanned each day’s entries. The majority of it really was for her. And the events she’d inputted on his behalf—like the contractor appointment and the curriculum suggestions worksheet—she’d gone back and added notes that he could reference, since he’d missed the deadline or not been kept abreast of the nursery plans.
And the nursery—that had a whole subnote in the calendar, which contained this message meant for Nasser:
Babe, I wanted to surprise you with a gift to celebrate the arrival of our little bundle of joy. It’s hard buying gifts for a man who needs nothing, so I’ve thought long and hard about what this could be. I thought that the best gift I could give you would be to make our lives easier once the baby arrives, and make a super-cool nursery that will be fully daddy-approved by you. The first appointment with the contractor is next Thursday, so start thinking about what you want to see there! We can modify things however you want (or do nothing at all if you hate this idea???? Please don’t hate it!). I’m pretty sure we need to have a baby jacuzzi, because clearly #bathinggoals. But also, sweet nanny cams (which can double as sexy cams if you insist…).
What do you think??
Love, Willow
Nasser had to put the tablet down after he read that. Emotion had his chest tighter than a rubber band and he was one babe away from snapping completely. Instead of seeing the sweet intent of the contractor appointment he’d stumbled on, he’d read it as her intent to dominate his life. He rubbed at his face, trying to quell the tears that threatened to spill.
He’d pushed Willow away like an asshole. Like the actual asshole he was.
God, he needed to make things right with her. And he needed to do it yesterday.
When he felt ready, Nasser picked up the tablet again and scrolled through more days. He read as much as he could. Desperate for this unique window into Willow’s life.
And dammit, his brother had been right.
It was a love language. One he was just starting to learn how to read.
He had to figure out how to make it up to her. How to convince her to come back and make this palace her permanent home. As it had been, until he’d lost his mind with past wounds and driven her away. He lay back on the chaise, his mind turning over different options. This situation was way beyond an opulent bouquet of roses or even a surprise choral performance where everyone simply sang “I love you”—both things he’d done to make up for his behavior in the past.
No, he needed something to really stand out. To show her that he was trying to be better. To do better. Especially now that he had a family to take care of.
He wrestled with ideas for hours, even opting to have dinner brought to his room so that he didn’t break his concentration. He referenced the calendar occasionally, but it wasn’t until he noticed the event in two days’ time—Visit Possible Apartment—that an idea started to click together.
A note accompanying the apartment visit, which was slated for one p.m., read: Sign for minimum year lease. If it is in budget and in the right part of town, get two-year lease. Can worry about proximity to Amatbahn school system once Babe is a little older.
Nasser’s throat tightened again. Willow had written this appointment only twenty minutes ago. Which meant they were using the calendar at the same time. His fingers tingled, as if he could feel her nearness. Even though that was absurd.
But more than current nearness, it signaled Willow’s desire to stay near. He tossed the tablet onto the seat next to him and rubbed at his face, feeling more exhausted than if he’d spent the entire evening in the gym sparring.
He needed to make things right.
And he finally had an idea how.
17
Willow had bitten off all her nails.
It wasn’t something she was proud of, and she desperately wished she could hide evidence of her bitten nubs for the first round of interviews that week. Gel nails weren’t quite a thing in Al Ghuman yet, which meant she needed to find acrylics, and stat.
She couldn’t show up with this much evidence of her internal distress.
“Are you biting your nails again?” Calla asked softly from beside her in the backseat of the car.
Willow yanked her hand down, stuffing it underneath her thigh. This was her response to Ultimate Stress. It wasn’t often in life that she bit her nails down to the quick, but the first breakup with Nasser had definitely featured scary-looking hands. The second breakup was no exception. Add in a looming visa deadline and the just-under-the-wire wedding to a man she hadn’t seen in…
“Sorry. I just…” She shook her head, looking out the window. Calla had offered to accompany her on her apartment search. Like a good friend. Like the sister-in-law that wouldn’t be, at least not for long. “I need a spa day.”
Calla laughed softly. “Yeah. A few of them, girlfriend. I can organize that, you know.”
“I can’t afford multiple spa days,” Willow said.
“You still have access to the palace bank account, carrying the royal heir,” Calla said. “And don’t you forget that. Nasser might be an ass, but he won’t leave you high and dry.”
Willow just grunted, crossing her arms. She’d crossed over into the second trimester just that day. Big news that she would love to share with a partner who cared.
Except she didn’t have one. And she was still trying to pretend she was okay with it.
There was only one thing she hated more than being unprepared: when her best-laid plans went horribly awry.
To be fair, sham-marrying Nasser hadn’t been one of her best-laid plans. It had been a last-minute plan, so she couldn’t hold that against herself. Even so—and perhaps worse—she’d come to see Nasser and this growing family of theirs as the best thing she’d never planned for. She’d believed in it. She still did, in her dark moments, when she tortured herself with thoughts of how happy they would have been someday, if they had only gotten their shit together.
“Co-parenting will be fun with him,” Willow remarked dully.
Calla shook her head. “You guys will find a rhythm. I’m sure of it.”
“I never should have invited him to join the calendar,” Willow sighed, starting down the same path she’d traveled at least a thousand times over the past week.
“Trust me, Willow. The calendar is not the problem,” Calla said, slicing her hand through the air. “It’s Nasser.”
“I come on too strong,” Willow went on. “I could have been…I don’t know…more of a doormat?”
“You’re talking like a crazy person,” Calla chided. “If Nasser can’t handle a strong, dedicated, determined woman, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
Willow finally cracked a grin. “Sounds like you’re more on my side than his.”
“Oh, believe me—I am,” she said. “Our family dinners have not been jovial recently, to say the least.”
Willow hated that she took some pleasure in that. But then again, Nasser deserved it. For kicking her out. For not calling even once to check on her. For missing the all-important transition into the second trimester, which she’d also marked on the c
alendar.
“Even with how much he’s hurt me, I still love him,” Willow admitted in a small voice, picking at the seam of her dress.
“Oh, honey,” Calla tutted. “Of course you do. You two were so in love.”
Willow heaved a big sigh, watching the streets of Al Ghuman blur past. They were getting close to the city center now, and rickshaws crowded around them in traffic. A blue pickup drove directly in front of them, the bed loaded with an absurdly high pile of lumber. The energy of the city was always something that Willow had loved, but right now, it exhausted her.
She just wanted to curl up in the comfy king-size bed in Nasser’s room. Find the reassuring solidness of his chest. His heartbeat that reminded her that she was his, and he was hers.
“We’re here,” Calla said a few moments later, once Willow had roped herself into another sad trip down memory lane. She jerked her head up, looking at the modern block of apartments before them. They were more like condos—each apartment featured a first and second story, with a tiny postage stamp of a front yard—and the stucco exterior appealed to her.
But still…the crushing loneliness of the rest of her pregnancy bore down on her.
How could Nasser just abandon her like this?
A breakup was bad enough. A breakup with these pregnancy hormones was a whole new level of cruel.
“Come on. Let’s get out and look at it,” Calla encouraged, pushing open her door. Willow followed suit, drawing a restorative breath. She could do this. She’d wanted to do this. Calla had originally urged her to stay in the palace—with her own bedroom on the opposite end of the residence—but being so close to Nasser seemed like torture. Plus, what if she saw him stumble home one night with a girl? The type of girl who wasn’t her and never would be?
She couldn’t handle it, not even the thought of it. So the distant apartment won.
Willow walked on wooden legs, cupping the bottom of her barely-there bump.
“You feeling okay?” Calla asked quietly as they walked up to the middle apartment, where the listing had instructed.
“Yeah. Just…sad, I guess.”
The Sheikh’s Sham Engagement: The Safar Sheikhs Series Book Three Page 9
