Page 13 of The Sheikh's Secret Family

Twenty minutes later, Jen had arrived and she and Owen were happily making a Lego tower in the living room. Emelia kissed her son goodbye and headed out, walking quickly to the bus stop. Once onboard, she leaned back, looking out the window and rehearsing what she was planning to say to Tariq.

It’s been a while,she would say, reaching out for a formal and distant handshake.Can we talk?

Tariq would follow her, full of apologies for leaving so suddenly, and Emelia would hold up her hand to stop him. After all, no apology could undo what he’d done.

I need to tell you something,she would say once they were in a quiet place.When you left, I had just found out that I was pregnant. I was coming to tell you when I found you gone. I know this will come as a shock, but you’re a father to a little boy. Owen.

Then she would explain that Tariq could have a part in Owen’s life, if he promised never to hurt their son. He could send cards, maybe visit once or twice a year. Neither of them could turn back time to the years they’d missed. That was Tariq’s fault for abandoning them. But that didn’t mean that Emelia would keep Tariq away from his son. That wouldn’t be fair to Owen, who clearly needed a father figure.

When Emelia had planned to tell Tariq about her pregnancy years ago, she’d imagined crying and blurting out the news. She would handle it better this time. There would be no tears and no emotion, only considered facts and structured possibilities for how to proceed. Emelia wasn’t a young woman who desperately needed the support of her child’s father anymore. She was a confident adult whose son was her first and only priority. The most important thing now was that Owen could get to know his father.

* * *

Despite all her practice, Emelia still felt nervous when she stepped into the large meeting room where the reunion and speeches were being held. This was the first reunion of the year, so she took a moment to look around and make sure the caterers were here, the decorations were up, and the music was playing softly in the background. Everything seemed to have come together, just as she’d organized it. The first few guests were already there, although Tariq wasn’t among them. Feeling herself relax a little, Emelia spent a few minutes chatting with an old classmate who was now a translator for a big manufacturing company, her gaze straying back to the door every now and then.

As the room started to fill, Emelia’s worry grew. Everyone was talking, laughing, sharing stories from their adventures after college. What if Emelia couldn’t find Tariq among this crowd? What if he slipped away again without saying goodbye?

Emelia took a deep breath. She would see Tariq when he gave his speech in a few minutes. After that, she could track him down. There was no way she was letting this chance slip by. Who knew if she’d get another opportunity before their ten-year reunion, by which time Owen would already be eleven.

Just as Emelia was sure that she’d have to just wait and find Tariq after he spoke, she spotted him. Her mouth almost dropped open. He looked the same as he had in college: the same deep brown eyes, the same easy posture, the same slightly messy hair. But he looked different, too. He was wearing a suit that even Emelia, who wasn’t very fashion-conscious, could tell must be expensive and tailored. A gold watch glittered at his wrist and he held a glass of champagne in his hand as naturally as if it had always been there. Next to him stood a burly man with what looked like a gun at his waist. Was it a bodyguard?

Emelia started across the room towards Tariq, threading past classmates who called out to greet her. When she was just a few steps away, one of the other administrative assistants whispered something in his ear and directed him towards the raised stage. Emelia glanced at the clock — it was time for his speech. She would have to wait until he was done.

Emelia melted back into the crowd and watched Tariq take the stage. He grabbed the microphone off the stand and gave a confident wave to the crowd, almost like a rock star about to give a concert. Then he leaned forward and, for the first time in over six years, Emelia heard him speak. His voice was just as smooth, deep, and captivating as it had been back in college. Now, though, it had an edge of maturity.

“Good evening, everyone! My name is Tariq Ibrahim, although you might remember me as TJ, the guy whose hair never listened to him.” He smoothed his hair to scattered laughter. Even Emelia had to smile. It was true that Tariq’s hair had been a constant source of annoyance, never lying flat. Owen had inherited that.

“I’m here today to give a talk on leadership,” Tariq continued. “But I’m not sure I’m the most qualified person here to give that speech. Do you remember Maria Alvarez, who was double majoring in gender studies and economics? I heard tonight that she’s started her own company specializing in sensitive and inclusive advertising. Or Ryan Peterson, who was majoring in premed and is now on his way to being the best neurosurgeon in the country, or so his wife told me.”

Emelia smiled to herself again. Even now, in a speech meant to honor his accomplishments, Tariq took the time to praise the people around him. Emelia was starting to remember why she’d loved Tariq so many years ago. And she had to acknowledge that a bit of that love was in her now, despite what Tariq had done.

“I do know a few things about leadership, though,” Tariq was saying. “You can’t become the ruler of a small country without learning a thing or two. I’ve found that the most important thing about being a leader is understanding your real purpose: to serve the people who rely on you. Being a leader isn’t about power or fame or money. It’s about supporting and lifting up the people around you. In fact, the best leaders I’ve ever known, like my late father, Sheikh Nabir Ibrahim, think of themselves as megaphones. Really.” A few people laughed at this. “My father always said that a good leader amplifies the voices of those who wouldn’t otherwise be heard. I think that’s true. I also think that a good leader is like an architect.”

As Tariq’s speech went on, Emelia felt a strange mix of feelings running through her. Surprisingly, she was proud that Tariq was Owen’s father. He was the same kind, considerate, handsome, funny guy he’d been in college. Now, though, he was more sophisticated. More thoughtful. More dignified. Emelia was happy to think that Owen might inherit some of these qualities.

She also felt a rush of something close to affection. She had cared for Tariq so deeply years ago. When he’d disappeared, she’d been sure that she’d shut off those feelings completely, pushing them into a locked box inside of herself where they couldn’t hurt her. But now, seeing him speak, she remembered why she’d loved him. It was like that little box clicked open and all those old feelings came rushing out.

She needed to be careful. If she and Tariq were to have any relationship now, years after he’d abandoned her, it had to be centered around their son. She couldn’t allow herself to bring her heart back in, not after what had happened.

And, alongside the affection and equally strong. Emelia felt a growing spark of anger. She’d pictured Tariq kidnapped, dragged off by crazy family, or even hurt when he’d disappeared. But he’d been fine. More than fine. He’d been wearing tailored suits and living as a sheikh while she had scrimped and saved for every penny to raise their son. Emelia tried to push her anger away. It wouldn’t do any good to bring anger into this evening. This would be hard enough already.

Tariq’s speech ended, to rousing applause, and Emelia was startled out of her thoughts. She started winding through the groups of people again, ready to meet Tariq as soon as he stepped off the stage. She couldn’t let him disappear into the crowd. It was time to face him, once and for all.

Just then, her phone started buzzing in her pocket. Surprised, she pulled it out to see that Jen was calling. Emelia’s heart sank and she stepped into a quiet corner to answer. Jen wouldn’t call unless there was a problem.

“Ms. Parker?” Jen said on the other end, sounding worried. “I’m so sorry to call, I know you’re busy.”

“It’s okay. What’s going on?”

“It’s Owen. He’s fine, but he’s upset. He says his stomach hurts and he just won’t settle for anyone but you. I’m so sorry. I’ve tried everything.”

“Don’t worry, Jen, it’s not your fault.” Emelia glanced back at Tariq, who was now putting the microphone back and stepping off the stage. Then she turned away, hurrying towards the doors. “I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

Emelia had no idea what to do about Tariq now. All she knew was that her son came first. Always.

CHAPTER9

TARIQ

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