Page 16 of The Sheikh's Secret Family

Emelia gave him a hug, not looking back at Tariq. She didn’t want to see what he was thinking. He must have guessed that Owen was his, given his age and his features. This wasn’t how Emelia had wanted him to find out at all.

“Come on. Let me get you tucked in, okay?” she said to Owen, planting a quick kiss on his head. He squirmed, glancing back at Tariq.

“Who’s that?”

“A friend of mine,” Emelia said firmly, carrying Owen down the hall to his room.

“How come you get to have friends over at night but I don’t?” Owen asked, his voice a little whiny with tiredness. When Emelia set him down on his bed, he wiggled under the covers, pulling them up to his chin.

“Because I’m the mom,” Emelia said, tucking the comforter in closer around him. “Maybe when you’re older, you can have friends over in the evenings sometimes, too. Now, are you all warm and snuggly?”

“Yeah,” Owen said, trying not to yawn. “But maybe I need another story.”

“You already had three,” Emelia reminded him. “And it’s getting late. Do you want to be all sleepy at school tomorrow?”

Owen shook his head and yawned again, not bothering to hide it this time. Emelia planted a kiss on his forehead, smoothed his hair, and slowly crept out of the room, turning off the light. She closed the door firmly and leaned back against it for just a moment, closing her eyes. This was such a mess. Tariq wasn’t supposed to find out about Owen this way. And he wasn’t supposed to have come to her house at all.

Emelia had done her best to create a loving, welcoming home for her son, but she knew that the apartment was shabby and small. Tariq was probably standing out in the living room now, judging her for where she was living. Well, Emelia wasn’t going to stand for that. Tariq had been living it up for six years while she had scrimped and saved and struggled to create a good life for their son.

Filled with a kind of righteous indignation, Emelia half-stomped back to the living room. Whatever Tariq was going to say, she was ready. After all, she was in the right here. He was the one who had abandoned her and their child. He had no right to judge where she was living or how she’d shared the news about Owen.

What Emelia wasn’t ready for, though, was the site of Tariq with his shoes and jacket back on, hand reaching for the doorknob. Her eyes widened with shock, then narrowed into anger.

“Leaving, I see,” she said coldly. “That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Emelia,” Tariq said, dropping his hand and turning to face her. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“So you decided to fix that mistake by running off without saying goodbye. Again.” Emelia felt tears prickling at the back of her eyes and pushed them away, crossing her arms. She wished that she were wearing something other than the soft green dress, something like armor.

“I’m sorry,” Tariq said again. He did look sorry, but Emelia didn’t care. No apology in the world could explain away him walking out on her and their son, not once, but twice.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” she said. “I get that it isn’t easy, but that doesn’t give you the right to just leave before I can explain anything.”

Tariq turned back, the apologetic look gone. In its place was a look of deep sadness, the kind that Emelia had never seen on his face before. His eyes seemed darker than usual, a deep coffee instead of the normal milky chocolate.

“There’s nothing to explain,” he said softly. “I understand perfectly.”

“I wish I could have told you sooner,” Emelia said. Of course, he was sad that she’d kept his son away from him for years. Even though she hadn’t had any other choice.

“It’s my fault for not trying to find you all those years ago.” Tariq shook his head. “I’m glad that you moved on.”

“Moved on?” Emelia asked, dropping her arms. “What do you mean?”

Tariq swept an arm around the apartment. “Moved on,” he repeated. “I should have known that you’d have gotten married, started a family…”

Emelia started laughing. She knew that it wasn’t the right reaction at all, but she couldn’t help herself. Tariq stared at her, confused, for a few long moments while Emelia struggled to regain her breath. Finally, she met Tariq’s gaze across the room. He was standing by the door, ready to leave because he thought she’d fallen in love again after him.

“You don’t get it,” she said. “I didn’t move on, not in the way you’re thinking. Owen is your son.”

CHAPTER11

TARIQ

Owen was his son?

That didn’t make any sense.

Tariq stood, frozen, by the door. He was too hot in his jacket in the warm living room, but he didn’t dare move to shrug it off. He just stared at Emelia across the room still in her green dress, her hair now coming out of the formal twist to send ringlets down her shoulders. That little boy, with the airplane pajamas and the messy hair, was his son?

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