Page 189 of Tarek

That question hurt so much.

“Because they themselves never understood what love is. You are carrying so much pain baby,” my mother whispers near my ear.

“I don’t know what it’s like to live without it, Ma,” I reply.

Silence stretches between us.

“Tarek,” I couldn’t get the rest of the words out.

“I don’t need to know what happened,” she says. “But as much as it hurts me to admit it, I think he loves you.”

I pull back, look at her confused.

“What? Every day, he drops food, money, drinks and he stares at the door, hoping to get a glimpse of you.”

My heart does a little leap, but my thoughts pull me back down. “Suppose he leaves me like dad did us.”

“Penny baby,”

“No, Ma. Dad taught me that love is temporary. I learned that if my father can leave me so can any man who said he loves me. So, I lived with that in mind, then Tarek comes and for two seconds I start to believe that my theory was wrong, until he proved me right.”

My mom cups my cheek. “Stop picking at your emotional wounds and forgive your father. Let him go and know that you have the ability to choose a good man for you and your babies.”

My breath hitches, and I press my hand against her hand holding my cheek. “He is a good man, and I miss him so darn much.”

“I should call him,” I whisper. “I love you too, Mom.”

“I love you to baby.”

A stroke of pain flies up my spine, I wince.

I stand slowly, with a hand behind my back. I waddle to the closet, pull down my trench coat and slip it on.

“Um, Penny, it’s 11:35 p.m. Where are you going?” My mom asks.

“Tarek’s home. You’re driving.” I grab my handbag. I stop and hold on to the threshold, and I bend pressing my palm against the door frame as pain ricochets down my spine, spreading into my back and legs.

“Penelope Holt! Let me examine you right now,” my mother shouts.

“No, we have to make it to Tarek’s home,” I cry waddling down the hallway and then the stairs. Behind me, I can hear the chorus of voices, Archer, Roxy, mom all fussing trying to stop me. But I have one goal and it’s not negotiable. I make it to the kitchen, snatch a pomegranate from the counter and shove it into my coat pocket. Priorities.

Moments later, I’m sliding into the front seat of my mom’s G wagon. For the next 35 minutes, she scolds me about the pain, about ignoring common sense, about going to Tarek’s instead of the hospital.

She doesn’t understand, and I don’t have the strength to explain. All I know my body is not ready yet, but when it is, Tarek has to be there.

The car curves up Tarek’s driveway and rolls to a stop. I move to get out wincing as I shift my weight.

“This is absolutely ridiculous Pen,” My mother cries as she frantically runs around the car.

I hold her hand and with her assistance I fixed my coat. My brain groans as I see Tarek’s stairs. Has he always had this many stairs? I grip one of the stone lions at the base of the stairs. A bolt shoots up my spine.

“Fuck,” I whisper gritting my teeth.

We start to climb. By the halfway mark, I’m crying. Maybe this was a stupid idea. But there’s no turning back now. A few more steps. Then we’re there. I raise my hand to knock, when the door swings open.

“Miranda?” A velvety voice cuts through the air tinged with disbelief.

“Oh my god Dereck, call Tarek, because this stubborn girl may be in labor,” My mom screams out.

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