The Sheikh's Sextuplet Baby Surprise Page 15

  But what girl dreams of selling her womb to a sheikh? Was this really the way I wanted to bring a child into the world—as a business transaction with a man who saw me only as an employee? Even though I loved him, it was a one-way street. This wouldn’t be an act of love on his part, so much as self-preservation.

  Flashes of social media pages and birth announcements from my girlfriends back at college entered my mind. They were easy enough to ignore when I had more pressing, life-saving issues at hand. But in the dark of night, I had to admit that being in my thirties, watching all my peers settle down and start families was starting to bite at my heels like a yappy dog. I always knew that having a baby while I was on my own and out in the world wasn’t feasible. I didn’t have the time, money, or energy to trot the globe with a baby on my back, and it wouldn’t be fair to any child to make them go without just because their mother wanted to be a globetrotter.

  But Omar’s offer seemed to fix that conundrum. I could have a child, and know that he would want for nothing, while I continued on with my adventurous lifestyle. Omar would make a wonderful father; I was certain of that much. I had seen him with his nieces enough times to have faith in his ability to be patient, caring, and loving to any child. He was a good man. It would crush me not to be a parent alongside him to a child of our making, but my feelings weren’t the point here.

  Omar wasn’t asking me this because he loved me. He needed an heir to ensure his life continued on the track he had been planning. And my love for him couldn’t factor into this; that was a surefire way to get my heart broken.

  Chapter 5

  I tossed and turned between the sheets of my borrowed palace bed for most of the night. Come morning, the sun rose with an orange heat over the desert horizon, and the soft sounds of songbirds in the palace garden floated in on the same breeze that gently shook the curtains of my open windows. The land around the palace was a peaceful place, far from the city center and the noise of the freeways and airports, and the only sounds that greeted me each morning were natural and beautiful.

  I couldn’t help thinking that a child waking up in this place every morning would be one lucky child. He would be safe; he would be loved. And, one day, he would be in a place of power where he could, in turn, help a lot of other people.

  If what I wanted to do was make a difference in the world, having a child who would one day rule a country would certainly do that.

  Even though there was heaviness in my heart at the prospect, I knew then what I needed to do. My decision could provide future security for all of us—myself, Omar, and our child. Saying no would rob us all.

  Thinking I should clean myself up from the rough night of sleep, I moved from the bed to the enormous, marbled bathroom. I gave my face a gentle wash to get rid of the tear-stains and puffiness from lack of rest, and let down my hair from the upsweep it was still holding onto half-heartedly, brushing it out into gentle waves that framed my face. I stared back at the girl in the mirror and took a deep breath.

  I changed quickly into casual workout clothes; the palace had rules about ladies being seen in their nightdresses outside their chambers, and it was a custom I had adapted to after the first two times the guards yelled at me for it. Living out in the desert with Doctors Without Borders quickly stripped a person of any semblance of modesty and privacy—at least as far as the high-class world defined it.

  I stepped out into the hallway, which was still quiet. Soon, it would be bustling as the palace reacted to Queen Mirah’s decree, which would be announced publicly today.

  I had to see Omar before all hell broke loose.

  The guards near my room shifted stirred at the sight of me. I still hadn’t learned all their names, but the closest one today was a mountain of a man, a head taller than even Omar’s impressive stature, with shoulders twice as wide. He seemed surprised when I stopped in front of him.

  “Is the Sheikh awake yet?” I asked.

  He blinked a few times before nodding wordlessly.

  “Do you know where he is? He’s expecting to talk with me this morning.”

  The guard stared at me suspiciously. Then he looked down the hallway and spoke in Arabic into the tiny microphone implanted in the wrist of his suit jacket. He listened as someone answered him back in the speaker in his right ear. I could only hear the sound of a voice, but couldn’t make out what it was saying. The guard exchanged a few more words with whoever was on the other end, eyeballing me the whole time.

  “His Highness is taking breakfast in the east courtyard,” he said finally, in a booming voice. His English was very good, but his accent was heavy, and he took care pronouncing each word. “You may go to him.”

  I nodded and thanked the guard, turning around the other direction to head for the east courtyard.

  As per the traditions of many Middle-Eastern countries, the Sheikh’s palace was bursting with courtyards, arboretums, gardens and water features. In a land of dry desert, there was nothing more celebrated than water and nature.

  It was one of my favorite traditions of this place. Warmth spread throughout my body when I imagined my son enjoying them, learning about varieties of bright blooming plants and visiting tropical birds. He would giggle and squeal when he reached in the ponds and felt the slimy scales of a fish swim by his hand, or the futile paddling of the water turtles’ feet when he picked them up.

  Every step I took, I felt more and more like this was the right decision.

  The two guards at the entrance of the east courtyard barely gave me a sideways glance. I moved between them and out towards the soft morning sunshine that was just beginning to light up the palace walls. At a thick bronze-and-glass table setting, surrounded by plush trees, Omar sat with a tray of breakfast food and a pile of newspapers, catching up on what was happening in his kingdom.

  His cup was halfway to his lips when he looked over and saw me standing at the entrance. His eyes widened and he immediately put the cup down, spilling some coffee on the table in his hurry. He tossed the newspaper aside and stood up to greet me.

  He looked so dashing in his casual white linens, contrasting against the smooth glow of his bronze skin. The curls in his jet-black hair were still a little mussed from sleep; he clearly hadn’t met with his stylist yet. Judging by the puffiness around his deep brown eyes, he’d had as rough a night’s sleep as I had.

  The eagerness in his expression as I approached made my heart hurt. No matter when or how I did it, leaving Omar would be the most difficult thing I ever did.

  “Carrie,” he said. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  I laughed softly. “No, of course not. Are you telling me you did?”

  He gave me a sweet half-smile and ran a hand through his hair. “No, not at all. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night.” He cleared his throat and immediately corrected himself. “About your decision, I mean.”

  I nodded and licked my lips. My hands, as they always did when I was at my most nervous, began to fidget with each other. “Well, hopefully we can both sleep better tonight, because I think I’ve made my decision.”

  “You have?” he was surprised, and eagerly took a few steps forward. “What is it?”

  I smiled at him. “My answer is yes. I will give you an heir on the conditions you set.”

  Omar’s face lit up in a beaming smile. Instantly, the lines disappeared from the corners of his eyes, as if he were suddenly ten years younger. “This is wonderful, glorious news! I am thrilled, simply thrilled at this. You will not regret the decision, Carrie. I promise, I will ensure our son has everything he could ever need or want. He will grow up a compassionate and caring man, and a just ruler.”

  “I know you will take care of him,” I replied. “I’m not worried about that at all. I’ve seen you with your nieces and other children that come around. I know you’ll be a great father.”

  “Thank you for this gift. Thank you, my friend.”

  Omar stepped forward without warning and threw his arms aro
und me in a tight embrace. It was the most we had ever touched in the six months I had known him, and I wasn’t prepared for it. I wrapped my arms around him in return, relishing the feeling of his warmth against me.

  It was only when one of the guards at the door cleared his throat that we realized how long the embrace had gone on for. Omar stepped away from me sheepishly, redness tinting his sharp cheekbones. He ran a hand through his hair again and gestured towards the table with the other.

  He waved at me first, then at one of the attendants waiting patiently near the doors, just out of earshot. “Please, sit. Let’s get you breakfast, and then we’ll talk about what happens next.”

  Chapter 6

  A few days passed before Omar was able to find the time for us to take the next step in our adventure together. There seemed to be no end to his royal duties, and he had to deal with the fallout of his mother’s decree, both to the press and the subjects of his country. He hadn’t spoken with his brother since the disastrous birthday dinner, but all the darkness and anger of that night seemed to have faded completely from his mind. Despite dealing with the headache of the work, Omar was in great spirits.

  Knowing I had helped make him so happy only made me happier, even if that joy came with a lot of fear attached.

  It was late afternoon when Omar called me into the palace’s medical ward, where he had gathered the country’s top OB/GYNs for a consultation regarding the little bundle of royal joy we were trying to cook. Since I wasn’t Omar’s queen, the only option left to us was artificial insemination.

  Even as a doctor, I was a little nervous about the procedure. It wasn’t something I had ever imagined myself doing, and there was a type of coldness about it I didn’t appreciate. I knew that any number of complications and surprises could happen when doctors tried to replicate the natural reproductive system, but it was what Omar needed, and so I would do it for him.

  Being the patient was another thing I wasn’t used to. As if sensing my nervousness, Omar took my hand and helped me gently up onto the examination table. After a few words of encouragement, he politely left the room as one of the doctors sat down to examine me. Once I was dressed, Omar re-joined us so the doctors could explain what would happen next.

  “Dr. Green is in perfect reproductive health,” beamed Dr. Issa, a warm, middle-aged woman who was born and raised in Al-Thakri. Omar smiled at me as the doctor continued. “For your needs, we recommend the intrauterine insemination procedure. Assuming your blood tests and physical exams come back with good news, we will then do an analysis of His Highness’ sperm. If he is as healthy as you are, Dr. Green, we won’t need to worry about administering any fertility drugs to assist with the process. You are both at ripe reproductive age.”

  Omar and I exchanged a somewhat awkward but excited smile. I had the urge to reach over and grab his hand, but suppressed it. The need to try and make this more comfortable for us both was overwhelming.

  “I will need you to track your ovulation cycles,” the doctor said to me. “That way, we may be able to double the insemination procedure each cycle and hopefully get you pregnant much faster. One His Highness’ sample is processed, we will apply the sperm inside you using a catheter and syringe, before using a cervical cap to ensure it remains in place. Your Highness,” she continued, turning to Omar. “We recommend that you be here with Dr. Green during the procedure. She will need to be at her most relaxed, and your presence should help with that.”

  Omar looked to me, as if looking for confirmation of what the doctor was saying, and I smiled with a gentle nod.

  “That would be great,” I agreed. “Doing this alone would be much harder.”

  “You’re not alone,” said Omar, before looking back at Dr. Issa. “Of course I’ll be here—whenever Carrie needs me to be.”

  “Are you sure that’s do-able?” I asked him quietly. “I mean, your royal duties… you’re not going to be able to just drop everything for this. If you need me to handle it alone, I can do that. I’ve been on my own in much more stressful situations.”

  Omar gave me a sly smile that made my stomach flutter. “This is the most important thing I’ve ever done—and it is my country’s future. Let someone try to stop me from being here for every minute of it.”

  I could feel my cheeks flushing and looked away before Omar could notice.

  “Do I need to make any lifestyle changes?” I asked the doctors.

  “It never hurts to start treating your body better—preparing the den for the cubs, so to speak,” smiled the elderly male doctor to the left. “If you smoke, it’s essential that you quit now. Cutting back on alcohol, making sure you’re exercising and getting a balanced diet; all of these things will help your overall health as well as your chances of conceiving.”

  “I’ll pass on orders to the kitchen staff,” nodded Omar. “I’ll have my nutritionist assist with Carrie’s meals. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “And I’ll start visiting the palace gym more often,” I added. “Lord knows I pass by it enough; I guess it’s time to start actually going inside.”

  The doctors laughed at that.

  “Conceiving a child isn’t always easy,” said the elderly doctor. “Don’t be hard on yourself if the process takes some time. The human body is a delicate thing, and each individual has her own needs. There isn’t a magic solution to anything. Just be patient and calm.”

  Omar rubbed his hair, a gesture I was realizing came whenever he got a little nervous. “You see… patience is not necessarily a virtue we have time for, doctors. The heir needs to be born before my brother can produce one.”

  The doctors exchanged concerned glances.

  “Ah yes,” said the elderly doctor. “We did hear about the Queen Regent’s decree.” He shrugged a little helplessly. “We’ll certainly do everything we can to make this process a speedy one, but we aren’t gods. Just make sure you follow our directions closely, and come to us if there is any change that concerns you, even if it seems fickle.”

  “I will,” I agreed with a nod. “Having you all so close is a big help.”

  “Indeed, and one of us is on duty twenty-four seven,” he said.

  Omar looked at me intently. Then, without warning, he reached over and clasped one of my hands in his. The sensation was warm and loving.

  “Thank you so much for doing this for me, Carrie,” he said with wet eyes. “Our baby is going to be a wonderful ruler.”

  Blushing slightly, I squeezed his hand back. “Yes, he will.”

  Chapter 7

  A few weeks went by after the first insemination procedure without any noticeable change to my body. As the doctors recommended, I made adjustments to my day-to-day life, but it wasn’t looking positive. Omar and I met with his nutritionist and the palace chefs to design a perfectly balanced meal plan for a woman my age looking to get pregnant. Even though I preferred to get my exercise by running from triage to triage, saving lives, I still dragged myself out of bed as the sun rose every morning to head to the palace gym, which included an Olympic-sized swimming pool. The water was much more inviting than a treadmill, so five days a week, I did laps until I was too tired to move.

  Even though I appreciated that I was getting more lean and toned, that wasn’t the point. In fact, I needed to get the opposite of lean and toned. I needed to be getting bigger, specifically in the belly region.

  As the weeks went by, the frustration began to build for both me and Omar. He would wait eagerly in my private suite while I took pregnancy tests in the bathroom, but every time I came out with the same dejected expression. He would sigh and put his arms on my shoulders—just shy of an actual embrace—and smile at me with hope. “Don’t worry, Carrie,” he would say. “It will happen. The doctors said we should be patient, so let us try harder to be.”

  I knew he was more worried than he let on—I could see it in the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way they were growing darker around the edges from losing sleep. Sajid and his wife would be
trying every single night, most likely, to get her pregnant again in hopes of beating Omar to the throne. Every day that passed without the process working was another day Omar could lose everything.

  It was almost a month later when I finally approached Omar, who was doing paperwork in his incredibly beautiful office. He sensed the frustration on me even before I spoke.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked immediately.

  I shook my head. “I can’t understand why this isn’t working. I think we should go speak to the OB/GYNs again. There has to be something else we can do.”

  Omar shrugged. “Sometimes things just take time. There’s nothing wrong with you, Carrie.”

  “That’s not how I feel,” I said glumly, crossing my arms over my chest—even though, deep down, I was feeling more and more inadequate as each day passed.

  Worry crossed Omar’s handsome brow. He put down his pen and stood, coming around the desk to put his arms on my shoulders and gaze into my eyes, his expression full of concern.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he repeated, refusing to look away from my gaze. “You are a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman, and I know you are going to give me a wonderful son. I dare say you seem more eager even than me at this point. Are you in such a hurry to be gone from here?” There was pain in his voice when he spoke the last line, even though he capped it off with a soft laugh.

  I shook my head immediately. “No,” I promised. “I haven’t thought about leaving again since we agreed to this, actually. All I can think about is… him. Our son.” I put my hands on my stubbornly empty belly. “And about how much this means to you and your future. I don’t think I’ve wanted anything so badly since I was applying to med school.”