With all of this, she hadn’t been able to deal with her feelings for Ravi. For the first few weeks, she half-expected him to re-abduct her or to come here and beg for her to return home. He had texted and send letters and emails. He even sent flowers every day for six weeks, but he never came in person and she had to wonder if he was secretly glad by now that she was gone. After all, he had Sabella to keep him busy.
Bridget was just the American. Just the klutzy giraffe. Albeit one who was starting to feel like she swallowed a bowling ball. The best she could figure was not only had Ravi shattered her heart, but a trip to his country had also left her with some horrible parasite.
“God, I know what this is,” she said, shoving a pillow over her head. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”
Cindi snorted and then yanked the pillow back off Bridget’s face. “No, but I made an appointment with an OB/GYN friend of mine for you. It’s a favor to me because I think I know exactly what this is, but I need to be sure.”
The words sounded with a deep thud to her ears. No, that couldn’t be possible. It was absolutely not reality. She was on the pill, and they used a condom every time. “No way.”
“Well, you two did it like monkeys while you were there.”
“Hey!”
Cindi rolled her eyes. “You ‘made love,’ fine, or at least what you felt was real and that rat was leading you on. All I need is five minutes alone with him and access to an aluminum baseball bat.”
Bridget sat up and ignored her usual morning dizzy spells. “It’s sweet that you want to help me by doing bodily harm, but it hurts, too. Ravi… I thought we had something good, but we always used protection.” Then she paused, her memory landing on the first night she and the sheikh had spent together. The condom had broken, and she had skipped a few days until the staff had been able to get her pills. But surely missing a few days wouldn’t have caused this? “Oh, no,” she said, shoving her head into her hands.
“What?” Cindi asked, sliding down next to her on the mattress and patting her shoulders. “You thought of something.”
“I… the first time, there was an accident.”
“Huh?”
“Broken condom, but it was just the one time.”
Cindi sighed and smiled at her sympathetically. “The nuns at catechism always used to say that it only takes that one time. I hated those penguins, but they weren’t wrong. Look, we’ll get you to see Janey, and we’ll figure everything out from there.”
“I can’t be pregnant. What will I tell Ravi?”
“Look on the bright side, maybe it is just a parasite!”
***
Dr. Murfee shut the door behind her as she entered into the small examining room. Of all the rotten luck, the doctor’s office was undergoing maintenance and the techs managed to knock out the air conditioning. During this unseasonably warm March day, both she and Cindi felt like they were dying of heat stroke. At least Dr. Murfee was quick and efficient. The whole blood draw had been painless and the test analysis took no more than twenty minutes.
Yeah, the longest twenty minutes of my life. Of course, if I am pregnant, it’ll be a long eighteen years too...
Cindi slid her hand over Bridget’s shoulder and offered a comforting presence. “What have you got for us, chick?”
Dr. Murfee shook her head and pushed her thickly rimmed glasses up her nose. “Ms. Callahan.”
“Oh, ‘Bridget’ is fine. We’re all acquainted now,” she said, pointing to her polka-dotted examination robe.
“Then, Bridget, the tests were positive. You’re definitely pregnant.”
Her heart lurched. It couldn’t be. Would she have to tell Ravi? Wait, could she deny him a family, especially knowing how much he missed his mother? Then again, he didn’t care about her. He had bought her jewelry and told her what she wanted to hear while sucking up to Sabella and making a fool of her.
But she still loved him.
Cindi considered the situation, and then turned to Dr. Murfee. “Janey, can you give us a second?”
“Of course, take all the time you need. I’d like to do the ultrasound and all the checkups you’re behind on once you’re ready.” With that, the doctor eased back out the door.
Cindi turned to her, blue eyes brimming with concern. “What do you want to do now?”
Her hands covered her belly almost of their own accord. “Keep him or her. There’s no other way. It’s part of me and Ravi, and I loved him…” she couldn’t keep the tears from coming anymore. It was all too much. She broke down crying, her shoulders heaving and the sobs tearing from her throat. “I still love him. I can’t make myself stop, no matter how badly he hurt me.”
Cindi wrapped both arms around her and rocked Bridget. “Shh, I knew that much. I knew you’d never think of that. I just meant how are we going to tell Ravi?”
She stilled, even as tears slid down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to tell him. I’m not sure I know how. What would I even say? Would he want to know he has an illegitimate child from a fling? With an American at that. There’s no way.”
Her friend sighed. “Then you don’t have to tell him. He’s the dick who cheated on you. Whatever you decide, I’m here for you. Aunt Cindi is going to help take care of the best niece or nephew ever, even kids aren’t really my thing.”
Bridget broke out laughing despite everything. Cindi was the type of gal to have X-rated tales of college exploits and more than a passing familiarity with marijuana. No, she wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins. They would definitely have to arrange some babysitting ground rules. A lot of them with ironclad penalties for violations.
“Trust me, Cind, I know.”
The other girl pulled back and stroked Bridget’s hair. “I’ll do whatever I can for the ankle-biter though.”
“I know you will.”
“We’ll get through this. Sheikh Can’t-Keep-It-In-My-Pants missed out big time.”
She nodded and offered her friend a weak smile. Bridget knew Cindi only trashed Ravi in order to make Bridget feel better. It just never worked. She was furious at Sabella, but even that wasn’t a consequence to how mad she was with herself, for believing the fairytale when all Ravi offered her were lies.
So, she forced herself to smile even more broadly and tell another lie. “You’re right. Who needs a sheikh, anyway?”
***
“Master Ravi, my sheikh, perhaps you should actually call the girl?” Adil said.
Ravi shook his head and turned his attention back to the latest profit reports. He’d been staring at them for hours. Maybe half a day. None of it made any sense, but then again, nothing mattered—not even profits—when he couldn’t hold Bridget in his arms. When he couldn’t smell the hint of freesia and strawberry in the early morning.
“I’ve tried. I tried for over a month, and she screened me every time. I promised myself that first day, after I came to my senses that I wouldn’t force my swan—I mean, Bridget, to do anything she didn’t want, and that includes her going home. Now that she’s back in the States, I can’t just sweep in and take her back.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you send out commandos, sire,” Adil said dryly, running a hand through his snowy white beard. “But it’s a shame for you to quit on her. You don’t have to bring her back from the States, but you should go and see her. You’re miserable.”
He clenched his jaw and shut his laptop. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get any work done tonight. Not that he’d exactly gotten any work done before then, either. “Thank you, Adil. I wasn’t aware of that.”
“You know what I mean. Ms. Callahan was well-liked by all of the staff, and we all miss her. I miss the man you are when she’s here. It’s like…” he trailed off, unsure if he should finish his sentence.
Ravi stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, old friend; you decided to open start this, so finish it. If you’re going to pressure me, to tell me about what I need, then you better say all of it.”
“Then,” Adil sai
d, “You’re more like the boy you were before your mother died. I missed that young man. He was full of hope. He cared about himself.”
“I care.”
“You care deeply about Dubai and about the Shamon holdings, but you don’t care about yourself. You either work yourself to death or take time off for hedonistic abandon, but not for commitment, not for anything real. When Ms. Callahan was here and with you, Ravi, you were the man I always hoped you’d grow to be.”
“But she doesn’t want to be here,” he countered, even though Adil’s words struck him like a knife to the heart. So it hadn’t just been in his head that he was a different person when she was around. He felt the changes, the lightness in his soul, but he also began to wonder if he was imagining it. After all, things always seemed different in hindsight. “My father took my mother in an arranged marriage. I almost fell into a similar pattern with Bridget by bringing her here at all. If she wanted to leave then and stay gone, then I have no right to go back and grab her up. I promised myself I’d be better than him.”
Adil nodded. “You are. I cared for your father, too. He was a brilliant general and a great leader, but he never was kind and generous at home like you are, my sheikh.”
“I hope not, Adil,” Ravi said, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent my whole life not trying to be him, at least in relationships.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I guess that’s part of the reason that I’ve never had relationships, period. However, I won’t go yank her up.”
“Then at least try to call her one more time, or contact her friend. Surely Cynthia has a direct line to Bridget.”
He sighed. Adil and Kamala were clearly as taken with Bridget as they said and missed her presence almost as much as he did. They had a point; the mansion had been so dreary without her that he returned to his penthouse in the Burj Khalifa to pass the time.
“All right, I think I can find that contact still in her Skype files.”
“Splendid, then maybe there’s a more traditional way to appeal to Ms. Callahan than…”
“Abduction?” he added, shaking his head. “I know now how wrong that was, how beyond the pale... I just… there’s something about her, and even if I never see her again, there always will be.”
“Then, my sheikh,” Adil said as he turned on his heel and headed to the door. “Let us hope that you can rectify the situation.”
Ravi shrugged and keyed in the Skype log in code. It was still only six p.m. in the States. Hopefully Cynthia would be out of work and around by now. It took several rings before a face flicked to life before him on the screen.
The pinched look on her face told him he was getting the Mamma Grizzly defensive side of Bridget’s best friend. The way she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as he came fully into view on her screen confirmed it. “Sheikh Shamon. What a surprise.”
“Cynthia…”
“It’s Cindi, and you better make this quick.”
“You know I am royalty, right?”
“I know you hurt my best friend, that what you did still hurts her every day. What, did you run out of roses to send? Her apartment was covered in those for over a month, then you went radio silent. I don’t get what kind of games you’re playing.”
“I’m not playing games, I swear.”
“Could have fooled me,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m serious. What is your angle? What is it that you really want?”
“Just Bridget.”
“That’s rich after how you treated her.”
“I don’t understand.”
Cindi snorted. “I highly doubt that. You know exactly how to spin a girl’s head around, how to flatter and send mixed messages, and then run away.”
He stood up and started to pace, not caring if it sometimes blocked his view to the woman. “She ran from me to another continent.”
“You pushed her first.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Oh, you do, and playing dumb makes it worse. Look, Bridget is going through a lot, especially being back home and with so many changes.”
“What changes?” he asked, stopping before the camera again. “Is she all right?”
“She will be,” Cindi said, squaring her chin. “But she won’t be if you keep trying to get at her, so just stop, Ravi. She’s not interested.” With that, Cindi cut the connection.
Enraged, Ravi swept all the files and papers from his desk in one motion, managing to just miss his laptop. “Fuck!”
“Well, if you offer,” Sabella purred, leaning against the doorway.
“What are you doing here?”
“Kamala summoned me. I’d left some things of mine in the spare room of the penthouse, and she’s been doing spring cleaning. However, I still wanted to see you. I haven’t been able to talk to you since the exhibit opening.”
“You mean ambush me and then shove your tongue down my throat.”
She strode into the room, exuding sex and promise with every step, offering him things that he once used to not only want, but take for granted. Now, it all just left a foul taste in his mouth. “Now, now, you know it felt like old times.” She emphasized her point by running a manicured fingernail down his tie.
He grabbed her wrist and held it firmly. “Well, I have managed so far to avoid the clap, let’s keep it that way, shall we? I don’t want you anymore.”
She laughed and pulled her hand back. “Oh right, you want that American giraffe of yours.”
“Her name is Bridget.”
“Yes,” Sabella purred again. “And Bridget’s in another part of the damn planet, across a large ocean, and has absolutely zero interest in speaking to you. Dear Ravi, why would you want an amateur—and a pathetic one at that—when—”
“Sabella,” he said, clenching his jaw before he could speak again. “You need to leave here and never come back. I have no interest in you, and no matter who calls for you—and they won’t again, I’ll see to it—don’t you dare come to my properties or my events. Not if you want to remain in Dubai.”
“You’d deport me?”
He laughed, a brittle bray of a sound. “I probably should have years ago.”
Chapter Eleven
Six Months Pregnant, Almost Five Months after Leaving Dubai…
Twenty-five pounds.
It wasn’t a massive amount of weight gain, but more than recommended, especially with the regular walking exercise that Bridget was able to get in at Dr. Murfee’s suggestion. However, she’d always had an Olive Oil body type, or maybe a bit of a Paris Hilton physique. Wiry and gangly were sort of her thing, and now having all that extra weight basically centered around her stomach left Bridget feeling even more klutzy than usual. It also drained her. While she was far past the morning sickness and even some of her weird cravings had subsided, Bridget just felt so tired all the time. Dr. Murfee was adding extra Vitamin D supplements to her regimen. Hopefully she would start feeling peppy again.
Of course, even now, it could be her broken heart.
She was six months pregnant, and every day she looked at the ultrasound pictures of her son—their son—and think about how she needed to give it all up and call Ravi. Then again, Ravi had let Sabella ram her tongue down his throat and didn’t give a shit about Bridget. Would she bring a child into a situation that loveless and fucked up? Wasn’t it better to keep the baby here and away from a father who didn’t care, and from a country that would speak ugly of their sheikh’s bastard, American heir?
Thanks to her own father, she knew exactly how horrible it was to have a dad who didn’t want you in their lives or who, at best, only used you when it was convenient.
The doorbell rang, knocking her out of her morose thoughts and same circular logic. Struggling up out of the couch cushions, Bridget made her way to the door. She definitely made it at about a third of the speed should would have months ago, but at least she didn’t have more than one more trimester to go.
Yanking open the door, she smiled, expecting Cindi to be stop
ping by after her final patient of the day to do a girls’ night with Chinese and bad DVDs. Her expression froze on her face when she found her father standing before her, more bedraggled than usual. Dean Callahan seemed as shocked to see her as she was to be gazing upon him. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t stop gaping at her ever-expanding belly.
“Whoa, so you got yourself knocked up.”
She stepped outside of her apartment and shut the door behind her. “You have exactly five minutes to give me a good reason not to just call the cops. I’m sure you have outstanding warrants. Maybe there’s a bench warrant somewhere.”
Her father started to look over his shoulder anxiously, enough proof to let her know she was right. It wasn’t hard to guess; a leopard couldn’t change his spots, and Dean Callahan would never be more than a failed thief.
“Now, sweetie, let’s not go that far.”
She put her hands on her hips. “That far? You sold me to Sheikh Shamon. You left me to be a prisoner in your place.”
“Well, then word on the street from an old Baltimore friend of mine—”
“You have no friends.”
“Fine, a bookie I owe money to. Anyway, I heard you were back in the city and in the family way.”
“Can’t imagine how a lowlife would know that. I try and stay above the law. It’s actually not that hard.”
“Well, that’s the beauty of having connections. He knew what he needed to.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did,” she said, her tone clipped. “I repeat: why are you here?”
“I wanted to get the story from my little girl. You’re pregnant, so tell me if it’s just some barfly or guy at your office. Or is this a bigger deal?”
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