Page 25 of Sheikh's Accidental Pregnancy

“Yes, she is.”

Sara rolled her eyes. She had hoped he’d stop knocking and go away if she didn’t answer. Now that Kaleena had told him she was home, that wasn’t an option. She opened the door and looked at him with irritation. He walked into her apartment before she could say anything. Kaleena grinned at Sara and pretended to wipe sweat off her brow. Her friend still thought Tariq was the hottest man on the planet.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Sara said to her and shut the door. She looked at Tariq. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“When were you going to tell me?” he challenged, raising his voice. He sounded angry.

Sara frowned. She was too tired and sick to deal with him.

“For God’s sake, lower your voice, unless you want the whole city to listen in.”

“Sara, you are carrying my child,” he said, staring at her belly.

“How do you know?”

“That’s not the point. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“So you want the baby?” she asked.

“Do you think I’d abandon my own child?” He was so angry his hands were shaking.

“Well, you can’t stand me. Why would I think you would care about this baby?” Her voice cracked. She was not going to cry. She wasn’t.

“How I feel about you…” Tariq took a deep breath. “This situation…” He ran his hand through his hair, and it was the first time Sara had ever seen it mussed. “All of this is complicated. That doesn’t mean I do not want my child,” he finally managed to say.

He walked to her and grabbed her hand. She tried to pull free, but mostly just for the principle of it. He loosened his grip enough that she could pull away if she really wanted to, but the contact was actually kind of nice. He looked around the room, his gaze stopping on the tiny kitchen and the box fan in the window. Then he nodded, as if he’d come to a decision.

“You will not stay here. You are coming to live with me,” he said and headed for the door, pulling her with him.

Grinding to a halt, Sara looked at him angrily. “Who do you think you are?”

“The father of our unborn baby. There is no use fighting me. You will not win.”

Did she want to fight? She didn’t know anymore. Her apartment was tiny and hot, and she was lonely and felt terrible, and no matter what she thought of Tariq, she knew he wouldn’t let any harm come to this child. And…maybe, just maybe, she liked his strength and determination, liked tussling with him. Maybe.

“At least let me get my things,” she said. The anger on his face eased, and he let go of her hand.

“I’ll help you pack.”

“That’s okay. I can get it. There isn’t much.” She didn’t want him going through her stuff, no matter how she felt about going with him. He glared at her, and she sighed in exasperation. “I’m not going to jump out the window, Tariq. Let me at least pretend I have a choice here, a little bit of independence.”

“Fine. You have ten minutes.”

She stretched it to fifteen.

When he opened the door to leave, each of them carrying one suitcase, and Sara with her backpack over one shoulder, Keira and Kaleena jumped in surprise. They must have had their ears to the door, trying to eavesdrop.

“She won’t be coming back. Pack up the rest of her things, and someone will come by to pick them up.”

“Sara? Is everything all right?” Keira asked.

Sara embraced her friends. “I’m okay. Thanks for everything. If you don’t hear from me in a week, call the British consulate,” she finished with a wry smile.

* * *

When they arrived at Tariq’s home, a servant—maid or housekeeper, she wasn’t sure—showed her to a bedroom, welcomed her, and offered to get her anything she needed. It hovered on Sara’s lips to ask for a flight home, but she didn’t say the words out loud. She didn’t really want to go home. She didn’t know what she wanted. A chance to live her own life, she supposed.

When the housekeeper left, closing the door behind her, Sara’s tears started to fall. She brushed them away at the sound of a knock on the door.

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