His Accidental Baby (Wedded to the Sheikh Book 2) Page 2
With a start, Alyssa realized she and Ali hadn't really talked about kids. As a member of a ruling family, was that important to him? Or important to him personally?
“You like the baby,” Ali commented, and Alyssa realized he was watching her staring.
Smiling sheepishly, Alyssa nodded. “I was holding her right before you came in.” She paused. Was there a right way to broach this topic?
Screw it.
“Do you want kids?” she asked.
Ali stopped his fork halfway to his mouth, set it on his plate, and carefully dabbed his lips with his napkin. It seemed a long time before he spoke.
“I think I would, yes,” he said. His careful gaze swept over her. “And you?”
“Yeah, I would.”
Ali’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “I’m glad we’re in agreement, but I want to say that I would be happy either way. A family is a wonderful thing to have, but if you wished to keep it to only you and me, I would honor that. You are what is important to me.”
“Do you have any sort of timeline for this?” Alyssa asked. She chased the question with a hearty sip of wine. For some reason, this conversation, even though she’d brought it up, made her nervous.
Ali exhaled heavily, his cheeks puffing. “After we’ve been married a few years?” he suggested, sounding uncertain.
Alyssa nodded. “Yeah, I like the sound of that.” A few years would give her not only time to adjust to married life, but to prepare for motherhood as well. Read some books. Maybe take some classes. Learn not to freak out when a baby cried in her arms. That kind of stuff.
“If my mother had her way, the first baby would arrive nine months after the wedding night,” Ali said.
Alyssa tried not to groan at that. “Yep. Same with my mom.”
Ali chuckled and shook his head. “What are we to do about them?”
Alyssa raised her wine glass. “Not spoil our vacation by talking about them all the time.”
Ali tapped his wine glass against Alyssa’s.
Even though they poked fun at their parents on occasion, Alyssa knew Ali still respected his mother and father. After years of actively working to go against whatever they wanted for him, he was now in the process of repairing the relationship. That meant being selective on the things he pushed back on.
“One thing at a time,” Alyssa said, thinking out loud.
Ali sipped his wine, his eyes twinkling at her over the glass. “I must ask another question, though. Do you think about how many you want?”
“Definitely more than one,” Alyssa said right away. “Growing up an only kid was hard.”
“Agreed.” Ali nodded.
“Although it did teach me how to entertain myself. I got pretty good at being alone early on.”
“I was never alone,” Ali said.
“That’s right,” Alyssa said cheekily. “Palace life.”
Ali barked out a laugh. “I told you, I only visited the palace on special occasions.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, palace boy.”
Under the table, Ali playfully nudged her foot with his. The whole “sheikh thing” sometimes overwhelmed Alyssa, and she tended to deal with this through joking. Luckily, Ali understood and humored her.
Alyssa swirled some of the pasta her seafood dinner sat on around her fork. Thinking about the future—which was always ultimately uncertain—had caused her to momentarily lose her appetite. It was back full-force, now, though, thanks to Ali’s support.
A while later, after they'd finished dinner, Alyssa led the way out of the dining room. As they passed the table with the baby—who now slept in her father’s arms—the mother caught Alyssa’s eye.
With a jolt, Alyssa realized the woman must have heard a lot of what she and Ali had been saying, if not everything. They'd be sitting right next to each other, after all. And though Alyssa hadn't said anything controversial, she was slightly embarrassed. She didn't like exposing her private life.
Not that the young mother seemed to care. As she and Alyssa locked eyes for all of one second, the woman smiled and gave Alyssa a wink.
In that wink, Alyssa got the hidden message. It's going to be all right.
Smiling back at the woman, Alyssa continued on her way to the lobby’s elevators, a new pep in her step at the knowledge that everything, in the end, really would be just that. Especially with Ali at her side.
Chapter 3
Ali
The private jet purred under Ali’s feet, and he set his book down to look at Alyssa. Sitting across from him, she had her sketchbook splayed out across her lap and was in the middle of comparing two purple colored pencils.
“Are those not the same?” Ali asked.
Alyssa looked nothing short of appalled. “No. One is Purple Mist and the other is Spring Iris.”
“Mists are purple?” Ali asked, not attempting to hide his smile. “That sounds like a bad case of pollution.”
Alyssa stuck her tongue out. “I'm looking for the shade that best matches the color of your shirt.”
“Oh, you're drawing a picture of me?” Ali uncrossed his legs and sat up straighter. “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have made such fun of you. Let me see.”
Alyssa pressed the sketchbook to her chest. “No way.”
“Ah, come on. You never let me see your drawings.”
“Because they're awful,” Alyssa said with a laugh. “And this is the first time I've tried to draw a person before, so…no.”
Ali shook his head. “Shame.”
Lips pursed and eyebrows raised, Alyssa picked a purple and lifted the sketchbook up so she could color without him seeing.
“You do that,” Ali said. “I will be over here checking my super-secret email. Jealous?”
Alyssa snorted and didn't lift her eyes from the page. “You have fun with that.”
Unlocking his phone, Ali scrolled through the emails he'd neglected during the Costa Rica getaway. There were a couple notes about the club that was undergoing reconstruction, a boring breakdown of accounting numbers that he had been CC'd on, and, at the top, an email from his father.
Ali was just about to open his father’s message when Alyssa made a noise of discomfort. He looked at her over his phone.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?”
Alyssa made a face. “I dunno. I feel really, really queasy all of a sudden.”
Ali set his phone on the small table next to his seat. “Did you eat breakfast?” Instead of joining Alyssa for their morning meal, like he usually did, Ali had gone down to the beach to squeeze in a morning run, grabbing an apple from the tray in the lobby on his way back up.
“I…did,” Alyssa said, avoiding his eyes.
Ali cocked his head in question. Why was she acting strange?
“I had my leftover seafood from last night,” Alyssa explained. She made a face. “Maybe that wasn't the best idea.”
“Perhaps,” Ali agreed.
“Oh, man,” Alyssa moaned, “but I love it so much!”
“I’ll check the first-aid kit,” Ali said, rising from his seat. “Perhaps there is something in there that can help you.”
Alyssa waved her hand. “Don't worry about it. I'm fine.”
A second later, though, and she clutched her chest, an expression of discomfort contorted her features.
“Bag,” she gasped.
“Bag?”
Alyssa didn’t answer. She was rushing past Ali and into the tiny bathroom. The grating sound of retching followed.
“Oh, no.” Ali moved swiftly to the bathroom. Alyssa leaned over the toilet and vomited again.
He went to hold her hair back, but Alyssa drew away from the toilet and leaned against the wall. Ali dropped onto his haunches next to her and pushed her bangs away from her eyes.
“I guess leftover seafood was a bad idea,” Alyssa whispered weakly.
Ali chuckled. “I suppose so.”
She frowned. “It was refrigerated.”
“How do you feel, now?”
“Better.” Alyssa lifted her arms, and Ali gingerly helped her to her feet and back to her seat. Getting a blanket from one of the bins, he spread it out over her and then went to see what the flight attendant had for nausea.
“I'm really feeling better now,” Alyssa said as Ali handed her some ginger chews. “I think I just needed to get the food out of my system.”
“Have these anyway,” he said.
Alyssa picked up her sketchbook, and Ali caught a flash of the drawing there.
“It's not bad,” he said.
Alyssa groaned. “It is. I drew your face twice as large as I should have. Nothing’s proportional.”
She turned the sketchbook around so he could have a better view. Ali tried to stifle a laugh but was unsuccessful.
“Right?” Alyssa asked.
“It is your first person,” Ali pointed out. “I thought you said I couldn’t see it.”
“That was when I thought I could fix it.” Alyssa set the sketchbook down with a sigh. “Do you know how much longer we have?”
Ali checked his watch. “Only about thirty minutes. Are you feeling better?”
“I thought I was, but now…” Her face twisted, and she jumped to standing and ran for the bathroom.
This time, when she emerged, Ali was waiting for her with a warm towel, courtesy of Kay, the flight attendant.
“Thanks,” Alyssa said, unfolding the towel and pressing it against her face.
Ali gently led her back to her seat. “Perhaps it’s more than some bad seafood.”
Alyssa removed the towel from her face. Her skin was paler than usual—especially considering they had just come from the beach.
“You mean like I caught a bug or something?”
“It could be,” Ali said.
Alyssa groaned and dropped her head back against her seat. “That’s just what I need.”
“No one has time for being sick,” Ali reminded her. “But don’t worry. I will take care of you.”’
Alyssa smiled at him. “I know you will.”
Ali’s phone beeped with a message, and he glanced down at it.
Check your email, his father had written. Urgent business.
Ali pressed his lips together. His father knew he was coming back from vacation. Even though Ali traveled all the time, and sometimes brought Alyssa with him, it had taken them months to make time for a trip to celebrate their engagement—a trip that was decidedly and exclusively devoid of work.
“It’s my father. Something urgent, apparently,” Ali said.
Alyssa frowned. “Is it?”
Ali opened up his email app. “With him, it is hard to say.”
Ali found the email, did a quick scan of its contents, and then went back to read it more thoroughly.
“Our hospitality company in Baqar is merging with another,” he said.
“That's big,” Alyssa responded.
“Yes”. Ali nodded. “And my father wants me to come to Baqar and oversee the transition.”
“Why? Isn't he in charge of everything there?” Alyssa asked.
“There are foreign diplomats in town this week, and he must do his part to entertain them. Knowing my father, if he could be present to oversee this transaction, he would.”
“So he really does need you, is what you're saying.”
“Yes. It would appear so.”
“Then what's the hesitation?” Alyssa folded her towel and dabbed her forehead with it.
Ali's lips worked into a wry smile. “You know me well.”
“You're not that hard to read.” Alyssa gave him a saucy look, and Ali appreciated her attempt to joke with him, even though she clearly didn’t feel well.
“He needs me to be there on Monday,” Ali answered. “I would fly to Baqar Sunday morning.”
“For how long?” Alyssa prompted.
“I don’t know.”
Ali held his breath. Over the last few months, he had traveled a lot for work. Alyssa always said she did not mind, but he felt slightly guilty about leaving her at home. She had her parents, of course, and Lucy, and her job, but Ali could not shake the conviction that he always needed to be by her side.
Alyssa, intuitive as she always was, seemed to read his mind.
“Ali, it’s fine. Go.” She smiled weakly at him. She’d pulled her legs up into her seat and leaned against one of the armrests. “By the way, I’m proud of everything you’ve been doing for the family business. It’s pretty awesome.”
Ali reached over and stroked her cheek. “Your opinion matters to me more than anyone else’s.”
“Be careful,” Alyssa said. “You don’t wanna catch anything from me.”
“The risk is well worth it.”
“Write him back.” Alyssa nodded at the phone. “Tell him you’re coming.”
Ali’s thumbs paused over the phone’s screen. “And what will you do while I’m gone?”
“Work. Remember?”
“Yes, but I mean after work.”
Alyssa jiggled her head around, thinking about it. “I’m sure I can pull Lucy away from her books long enough to watch a movie or something. And we have lunch plans tomorrow.” She grimaced. “If I feel better than I do now, that is.”
“You are my angel,” Ali said.
Alyssa’s face, pale as it still was, lit up. “Why do you say that?”
“It is a thought never far from my mind,” Ali said.
Alyssa bit into her smile. “I’d get up right now and kiss you if I wasn’t worried it would make you sick.”
Chapter 4
Alyssa
“Right this way.” Taking two laminated menus from the stand in front of the Mexican restaurant, the host started to lead Alyssa and Lucy to a table by the bar.
“Actually,” Lucy spoke up, “can we have that table over there?” She pointed at the area overlooking the outside seating, which, due to the cold weather, was closed off.
The host did a little half-sigh, like he was annoyed but then remembered that he wasn’t supposed to show it. “Sure.”
“Thanks,” Lucy said. “It’s kind of our spot.”
“I don’t remember seeing you here,” the host clipped over his shoulder as he weaved his way to the new table.
Behind his back, Lucy shook her head at Alyssa. “Rude,” she mouthed.
“We haven’t been here in a while,” Alyssa said. “We’ve both been pretty busy.”
“Enjoy your meal,” he robotically said, dropping the menus on the table and turning away.
“The nerve,” Lucy said, putting on a hoity-toity accent.
Alyssa laughed and shook her head. She knew Lucy didn’t really care if the host had an attitude problem or not. Lucy’s life was way too busy for her to think twice about what anyone but those closest to her had going on, and when it came to being affronted, the girl just didn’t really roll that way. Being a paralegal by day and a law student at night, she was after the big-time offenders. Forget everyone else.
A waitress approached, and Lucy turned to her with a big smile, stopping her while she was still a few feet away. “Two margaritas and guacamole and chips, please. Thank you.”
The waitress left with a nod.
“Actually,” Alyssa said, hanging her purse on the back of her chair, “I don’t know if I should be drinking.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Say what, now?”
“I was sick yesterday on the plane. I threw up.”
“Oh.” Lucy sat up straighter. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better. I haven’t gotten sick today.”
“So, it was something you ate?”
“Yeah.” Alyssa flipped her menu over and inspected the entrees. She knew what the place offered, but it was easier to make a decision while looking at the list. “But I think I should go easy, you know? Be kind to my stomach.”
“That’s a good idea. Poor little Alyssa, crying about being sick on her private jet.” Lucy grinned. “What about when you made it to your personal yacht? Did that make it any better?”
“Stop,” Alyssa admonished, though she couldn’t kill the grin twisting her lips. “And it belongs to the family. It’s not like it’s Ali’s alone.”
“But he can use it anytime he wants?”
“Yes,” Alyssa answered with hesitation, knowing full well she was being led into a trap.
“Mm-hmm.” Lucy stroked an imaginary mustache. “Interesting.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Not really.”
The waitress appeared, setting two margaritas, a basket of chips, and a little bowl of guacamole down.
“That was quick,” Lucy noted.
“It is pretty late,” Alyssa said, glancing around the restaurant. On the opposite wall, the bartender wiped down an empty bar. Past him, two guys in construction gear ate at a table. Beyond them, the host who’d seated the girls stared out the window, looking like he wished he was anywhere but there.
“You missed the lunch rush,” the waitress said. “Do you know what you’d like?”
“Shredded chicken burrito, please,” Lucy said.
“Same here.” Alyssa handed over her menu. “Sounds good.”
Lucy took a sip of her margarita and closed her eyes in bliss. “Oh, yeah. This is gonna help me study this afternoon.”
“Really?” Alyssa squeezed her lime into her drink.
“No. But three shots of espresso after this drink will.”
“Just don’t forget to sleep,” Alyssa said.
“Coffee naps. They’re a miracle worker.”
“I know. You’ve been telling me.”
“Seriously.” Lucy pointed her straw at Alyssa. “You chug a cup of coffee, then nap for twenty to thirty minutes. You’ll feel amazing.”
“Too bad they wouldn’t like that at the office.”
Lucy thoughtfully chewed on the end of her straw. “Yeah, they wouldn’t, huh?”
Alyssa took a sip of her margarita, but something didn’t taste right.
“What?” Lucy asked, noting the expression on Alyssa's face.
“It tastes…I don't know.” Alyssa took another sip, thinking maybe she’d just gotten an unmixed spot, but it tasted the same. Sour, but not in a good way like margaritas were supposed to taste.