Page 42 of The Sheikh and the Single Mom

“Mr. Al-Zayed has requested that he be contacted only in the most urgent of situations,” Hameed informed her.

“I understand that, but thisisan urgent situation,” Nina told him. “Please, just connect me through to him. Rashad will want to hear this.”

Nina wasn’t sure that the last sentence was true — in fact, Rashad probablydidn’twant to hear that he was about to become a father with a woman he was doing his best to put out of business. He needed to hear what Nina had to say, though.

“Just a moment.” The line clicked and Nina’s heart began to race. This was it. She was about to talk to Rashad again, to tell him that he was going to be a father. What was she even going to say? She had no idea. Perhaps she should have prepared more for this discussion.

When the line clicked back on, though, it was Rashad’s assistant again, and Nina’s heart sank.

“Mr. Al-Zayed is in a meeting now, but I can take a message. What would you like me to tell him?”

Nina hesitated. Part of her wanted to blurt out to this unfamiliar man that she was expecting Rashad’s baby — at least then it would all be over with. But that would be a mistake. Nina needed to tell Rashad about the pregnancy herself, not leave a message.

“Please tell him to call me back as soon as possible.”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Nina was tempted to shout that Hameed could fetch Rashad for her, but she didn’t. It wasn’t Hameed’s fault that Rashad was an uncaring jerk, and Nina would never even have considered yelling if she wasn’t swimming in pregnancy hormones.

“No, thank you.”

“All right. Goodbye.”

The line went dead, and Nina slumped back onto her bed. At least she’d tried — now it was up to Rashad to contact her.

It was only a matter of time before the phone rang and Nina had the most difficult conversation of her life.

CHAPTER 18

NINA

The phone trilled, a bright, happy sound that cut through Nina’s concentration. She reached for it, her heart beginning to race as it always did when her phone went off, but she was increasingly certain that the call wasn’t from Rashad. Sure enough, when Nina answered, the voice on the other end belonged to one of her freelance employees. They briefly discussed tasks for the next week, then she thanked him, hung up, and leaned back in her chair.

Two months had passed — two months with no word from Rashad. For the first few weeks after she’d left the message with Hameed, Nina had practically jumped out of her skin each time the phone rang, scrambling to answer no matter the time or place. It was never Rashad calling, though. Eventually, Nina began to suspect that he didn’t care about her enough to call her back, despite the message she’d left with Hameed about having urgent news. Maybe she should have just told Rashad’s assistant that she was pregnant — although even then, there was a good chance Rashad wouldn’t have returned her call.

Meanwhile, she hadn’t heard from Rashad in any other way, either. He hadn’t offered to buy her company, nor had Health Trackr been rolled out in the United States yet. Nina wasn’t sure what Rashad was thinking, only that he would come for her company eventually, and she needed to be ready.

So, Nina had thrown herself back into work. She put in long hours, often sleeping little, to ensure that Heartbeat was as ready as it could be to withstand whatever Rashad threw at her. At the same time, Nina attended her first prenatal appointment, began buying baby clothes, and spent as much time as she could with Miles and Kate. The twins talked about Rashad less as time went on, though they still thought of him or asked Nina where he was from time to time.

Even with Amanda’s help, and Nina’s mother coming to visit at least once a month, everything was incredibly hectic, and Nina was overwhelmed. She had no idea how she was going to add a newborn to her busy schedule. Slowly, she began to hand over a few tasks to trusted employees with the hope that she could take at least a short maternity leave when the baby arrived in six months.

Today was the first day of Nina’s second trimester. She was sitting in her desk chair at work, sipping ginger ale to calm her stomach (hopefully, she’d begin to feel better in the second trimester, as she had with her twins). It was March now, and San Diego was moving from pleasantly warm to undeniably hot.

Opening her email, Nina spotted an invitation to a networking event in a few days’ time. Networking was one task that had fallen by the wayside in the last few months, but it was time for that to change. Nina would need allies and funders when Rashad came after her. Sighing, she RSVP’d yes to the invitation. She’d have to find something to wear that would still fit over hergrowing bump — she’d dug out maternity clothes from the twins’ pregnancy, but she didn’t have anything particularly formal or flattering.

The next few days were spent in Nina’s usual whirlwind of activity. She had her twelve-week appointment and heard the baby’s heartbeat, which nearly brought her to tears. She attended a family day at the twins’ preschool and applauded the small play their class put on, in which Kate played a singing tree and Miles was a caterpillar that made truck noises. She spent a few long hours fixing a bug in the app and working on a new feature that made blood-pressure tracking more accurate. Nina was so busy, in fact, that on the night of the event she threw on a purple dress that wasn’t formal enough and twisted her hair into a half-up, half-down style just to keep it off her face. A little makeup later, she was as ready as she’d ever be.

Nina slipped into the twins’ bedroom, where they were already sleeping. She’d arrived home in time to feed them dinner and get them into bed, but it always reassured her to see them sleeping so peacefully.

Downstairs, Amanda was sitting at the kitchen table with her books spread out in front of her.

“You look nice,” she said, glancing up at Nina. Her gaze fell to Nina’s stomach, but Amanda didn’t say anything. Until now, Nina hadn’t looked very pregnant, but it seemed that her bump was noticeable now, especially in the slightly-too-small purple dress. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be fielding pregnancy questions all night.

“Thanks. Have a nice evening, and please help yourself to anything in the kitchen, as always.”

“You have fun, too.” Amanda smiled.

“I doubt it — these events aren’t particularly enjoyable.”

---