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  When Joanna had finished telling the story, she collapsed in a flood of tears. Her mother reached out and took her in her arms, holding her and rubbing her back, murmuring soothing sounds under her breath until Joanna had regained her composure.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, sitting back up.

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” her mother said gently. “That must have been very hard to hear, honey.”

  Joanna nodded. “I always thought I could make that decision later. But I guess I have to make it right now.”

  “What do you mean?” her mother asked.

  “Well, Dr. Franco said I wouldn’t be fully infertile for about six months,” Joanna explained. “That leaves me time to consider getting pregnant, if that’s something I want to do.”

  “But you would have to do it quickly,” her mother said. “You would have to start right away. You know, it can take a while to become pregnant. It doesn’t always happen on the first try. Sometimes it takes months. Six months is not a lot of time, really.”

  “I know,” Joanna said. “But if I decided it was something I wanted, it would be worth the effort, at least. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know,” her mother said. “I really don’t. Is it something you want?”

  “It’s such a big question,” Joanna said. “If all this wasn’t happening, if there was no time pressure, I don’t think I would want to do it now.”

  “That makes sense,” her mother said.

  “But I have always pictured myself as a mother one day,” Joanna went on. “I always thought I would get around to it eventually.”

  “And when you pictured that,” her mother said, “what did the picture look like?”

  “What do you mean?” Joanna asked.

  “I guess what I mean is, would you be happy to be a single parent?” her mother asked. “Or did you see yourself going down that road with a man in the picture? A father for the baby?”

  “Of course, everyone hopes there will be a father,” Joanna said. “Everyone wants a partner to help with child-rearing. But if that option isn’t available, should I consider it a deal-breaker?”

  “You have to decide,” her mother said. “Nobody else can make that choice for you, honey. Do you want to raise a child on your own?”

  “No,” Joanna admitted. “That’s not what I want. I always wanted to be a mother. But not… not like that. That’s not the way I planned it. If I have a child, I would want them to have two parents they could go to.”

  Her mother nodded. “Then I think a sperm bank isn’t going to be the right option for you. And we can rule out adoption, too.”

  “Which means I’m not going to have a baby,” Joanna said. The words tasted cold and bitter in her mouth.

  “You might meet someone,” her mother suggested. “If you met someone in the next couple of months, there would still be time.”

  “No one’s going to want to have a baby in the first two months of a relationship,” Joanna said. “Even if I met the man of my dreams tomorrow, that would be a crazy thing to ask.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” her mother said. “If you were to explain the situation, if the guy really liked you and saw a future with you, he might be willing to do something unconventional. Not all relationships follow the same track, you know. Some people do things out of order, and that’s okay, too.”

  “It doesn’t seem very likely, though,” Joanna said.

  “Well, that’s probably true,” her mother admitted.

  Joanna sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she said. “I’m sorry you won’t be getting grandchildren. I know you wanted them.”

  Her mother put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” she said. “I already have the best daughter anybody could ask for. My cup is full. Now, let’s heat up this casserole and celebrate the fact that you’ll soon be returning to full health. After all, that’s what’s really important.”

  That’s what’s really important, Joanna thought, wishing she could believe it.

  Chapter 5

  Joanna

  “I am so glad you’re back,” Jill said wearily, stepping out of her low-heeled shoes so that she could flex her feet against the galley floor. “They’ve had me partnered with Helen the whole time you were gone!”

  “Helen isn’t so bad,” Joanna said, reaching overhead to pull down a box of pretzels.

  “Don’t make me laugh,” Jill said. “All she does is complain. I mean, I know I’m complaining right now, but I’m capable of being happy about things, too. Helen complains about everything. I don’t know why she even works for this airline if she hates it so much.”

  “I guess she’d probably hate everything else in the world just as much,” Joanna said.

  “Yeah, well, you’re a breath of fresh air after a week of that,” Jill said. “You must have been really sick!”

  “You know they don’t like us to work when we’re sick at all,” Joanna said. “The plane is a petri dish. Germs spread so easily, and we handle food.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Jill agreed. “I just always thought of you as having a really robust immune system. I mean, you never miss a day of work. Have you ever missed one before?”

  “No,” Joanna admitted.

  “What’d you have?” Jill asked.

  “Some tropical bug,” she hedged.

  The last thing Joanna wanted was for her friend to look up Barring’s Disease and learn about the side effects. Jill would try to empathize, to get Joanna to talk about her feelings now that her fertility had an expiration date, but Joanna just wanted to forget about it.

  Not that that was possible to do.

  She knew it was just psychosomatic, but it felt as though she could actually feel her body withering up, her ovaries dying inside her. She pictured them as trees at the end of autumn, losing their leaves as they headed into winter.

  Barren. It was such an unpleasant word.

  Joanna knew better than to think this made her any less of a woman. She knew that this wouldn’t be the end of the world. In some years, she would have moved on from the immediate shock and pain of it.

  But right now, it was fresh. Right now, it still hurt.

  At least there was work to take her mind off of things. She picked up the pretzels.

  “I’ll take the right aisle,” she said to Jill. “You take the left?”

  “There’s an old man on that side who looks at me like I’m something to eat,” Jill said.

  “Want to report it to the captain?” Joanna asked.

  “No,” Jill said, rolling her eyes. “He hasn’t actually tried anything. I’ll let you know if he does.”

  Joanna nodded, lifted the pretzel box, and headed down the aisle, handing out little baggies of snacks to the passengers.

  Halfway along the cabin, she was stopped by a young woman close to her own age. Her heart skipped a beat. The woman was seated beside a little boy who couldn’t have been more than two or three years old.

  Children on a flight would never have given her a moment’s pause before. Now, she couldn’t stop staring.

  “Can we get an extra snack?” the young woman asked. “Someone’s a little grumpy.” She cocked her head at her son. “It’s his first long flight.”

  Speechless, Joanna nodded and handed them five pretzel packets.

  “Wow,” said the passenger. “What do you say to the nice lady?”

  “Tank-you,” the boy said absently.

  Joanna nodded. “We’ll be landing in Al-Yara in about an hour,” she said, and fled back to the galley before she could burst into tears in front of the passengers.

  Joanna’s flight out of Al-Yara would take her home through London, but it didn’t leave until the next morning, leaving her with a solid twelve hours to kill.

  She considered staying in her hotel, putting on the TV, and ordering room service. After all, given what had happened in Bolivia, it seemed rash to rush out and start partaking in local culture a
gain so quickly.

  But this was different. Al-Yara was a desert, not a tropical climate. There were very few diseases creeping around in this dry heat.

  And there was also a coastline.

  If there was one thing Joanna Perkins could never resist, it was a beach.

  She checked into her hotel and considered a nap—it had been a long flight, after all—but the weather was too pretty outside to be missed. She changed into a swimsuit and a sundress and headed out to explore.

  The coastline was only a mile from the hotel, and Joanna covered the distance easily. Once there, the public beach was all too easy to find. It was crawling with families, running and laughing and making noise.

  Joanna wanted nothing to do with that.

  She wandered south, keeping the water in sight, and after a time she came upon what had to be a private beach. The houses that lined the water here were massive and clearly expensive, and Joanna was sure that this stretch of land was reserved for the use of the people who owned those homes.

  And it was empty.

  Perfect.

  If she was caught, she would just apologize and say she hadn’t understood that this wasn’t a public area. She was an outsider, after all. No one would expect her to know something like that.

  She wandered down the sand, eager to dip her toes into the water and see if it was warm.

  “Hey.”

  She swore inwardly and turned.

  A tall, dark-skinned man with piercing green eyes and the biggest smile Joanna had ever seen was standing behind her, his stance wide, his arms crossed across his chest.

  “You don’t live here,” he observed.

  “Live here?” she said, hoping she sounded innocent. “No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”

  The man burst into laughter. Joanna smiled ruefully.

  “It’s obviously a private beach,” he said. “I know you know it. Don’t play coy.”

  “All right, all right,” she admitted. “I just wanted to come down and see the water. I’ll go now.”

  “No, you can stay,” the man said. “I own that property there. You can stay as my guest.”

  “You live here?”

  She gaped at the house he’d pointed to. It was massive. It could have eaten her little apartment back home for breakfast.

  “No, it’s a rental property,” the man explained. “But no one is staying in it right now. So we’ll just pretend that you’re a renter if anyone asks. I’ll cover for you.”

  “That’s really nice of you,” she said. “I could never afford to rent a place like this.”

  “Where are you staying?” he asked. “Maybe I can cut you a deal of some kind.”

  “Oh, no, I’m only here for the night,” she said. “I fly out in the morning. I’m a flight attendant.”

  “Ah, so it would be no good encouraging you to change your flight, then?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s my job, I’m afraid. Although I have to admit, this is a tempting place. I’ve never seen such a beautiful beach before. It’s very kind of you to let me stay.”

  “Have you ever visited Al-Yara before?” he asked.

  “Never,” she said. “Is it your home?”

  “Yes,” he said. “My whole family lives just outside of Sepha.”

  “It’s a beautiful city,” she said.

  “You’re American,” he noted.

  “How could you tell?”

  “The accent.” He smiled. “I’ve spent time in the States.”

  She thought his accent was lovely. It was musical, like low-pitched percussion instruments.

  “I wish I had more time to spend here,” she confessed. “I live in Missouri, and there’s not a beach for miles.”

  “I love to come out here to look at the water and think,” he said. “I think beaches are some of the most beautiful places in the world.”

  “I agree.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I was thinking about sending up to the house for some food.”

  “What, do you have a chef up there?” she joked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Wait, seriously?”

  “Certainly.” He took out a phone and tapped something in. “They’ll bring us down a picnic,” he said, tucking it away.

  “You really didn’t have to do that,” Joanna said.

  “Nonsense. You’re my guest.” He turned. “Ah, here they come.”

  A line of men were making their way down the beach, some of them carrying chairs, one carrying what looked like a massive cloth. They approached the man Joanna had been talking to.

  “Where would you like it, sir?” one of them asked.

  “Right here is fine,” he said.

  They went to work. Joanna stared in fascination as they dug holes in the sand, planted four poles, and stretched a canopy over the top. A small wooden table was placed underneath, followed by two padded chairs. Last of all came the picnic—fresh lobster rolls on hot buns, a lemony pasta salad, and chocolate muffins.

  “You’re kidding,” Joanna said, eyes wide. “This was all up at the house?”

  “Thank you, everyone.” The man held up a hand, dismissing his staff, and they all retreated.

  “I don’t understand,” Joanna admitted, taking a seat at the table.

  “What don’t you understand?”

  “You must be… I don’t know. One of the wealthiest men in Al-Yara, to own a rental property like this and to keep it so well staffed. Especially since you say no one is even staying here, right now. Yet you still pay the staff to attend to the place.”

  “Well, they’re my employees,” the man said. “They depend on their income. I don’t want to take away their work just because I don’t happen to have a tenant right now. Will you have some wine?”

  He was uncorking a bottle.

  “Yes, please,” Joanna said. “But how can you offer me all this? I’m a stranger to you. You must charge people a fortune for even a single night at this place, and you know I can’t afford to pay. Aren’t you losing money just on offering me this lunch?”

  He handed her a glass of wine. She took a drink, still regarding him.

  “You’re a clever woman,” he said finally.

  “You don’t have to be all that clever to see that you’re spending a lot of money for little return here,” Joanna said.

  “Maybe I just wanted to meet a lovely American,” he suggested.

  “But you haven’t met me,” Joanna pointed out. “I haven’t even told you my name.”

  “Tell me now, then.”

  She hesitated. As much as she liked to absorb local culture when she visited new countries, there was something different about being on an abandoned beach with a strange man who was attempting to wine and dine her.

  This was the kind of situation that, in the past, would have sent her running back to her hotel. Not out of fear, necessarily. But Joanna liked to be in control. It made her anxious to realize that the situation was slipping away from her.

  But I’ve been through so much, lately. And this is fun. Good food and pleasant company. Why not enjoy myself for an afternoon? What could happen? I deserve this.

  So she put on her nicest smile. “I’m Joanna Perkins,” she said.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Joanna Perkins,” the man said. “I am Sheikh Ahmad ibn Rahal.”

  She blinked. “Did you say Sheikh?”

  “I did.”

  “Isn’t that a royal title?”

  “Yes,” he said. “My cousin currently holds the throne of Al-Yara.”

  “And you’re a member of the royal family,” she realized.

  “Which is why I felt it so important to show you a good time today,” he explained. “You’re not just a guest at my beach house. You’re a guest in my country.”

  “What do I call you?” she asked, nerves fluttering now that she knew the truth of his identity. “Do I call you Your Majesty?”

  “No, no,” he said with a laugh. “That’s my cousin. You can ca
ll me Ahmad.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “If I can call you Joanna.”

  “I—yes. I mean, of course you can.”

  “Relax,” he said, smiling at her. “Try the lobster rolls. They really are wonderful. The chef is an artist.”

  She picked up one of the rolls and took a bite. It was one of the best things she had ever tasted in her life, and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face.

  “So, what’s it like to be a flight attendant?” Ahmad asked her.

  “I can’t imagine it’s as exciting as being a prince,” she said.

  “You might be surprised,” he said. “My day-to-day work for the royal family isn’t that involved. That’s why I bought this house. I like to have business interests that the rest of my family isn’t involved in.”

  “I see.” She helped herself to some of the pasta salad.

  “And I’m very interested in the life of a flight attendant,” he said. “What brought you to the career?”

  “I wanted to see the world, I guess,” Joanna said. “And I’ve had friends who were afraid to fly, and I knew how important it was to have people around you who could make you feel completely at ease.”

  “You must be a very good flight attendant, if your priority is the comfort of your passengers,” he said.

  “I try to be,” she said. “Some days are easier than others.”

  “How was your flight to Al-Yara?” he asked.

  “You’re very interested in airplane travel, aren’t you?” she asked.

  He laughed.

  “You caught me,” he admitted. “It’s a subject that fascinates me. Those airplane cabins are so uncomfortable. It must be torment for the poor passengers to have to fly coach on such a long journey.”

  “I do my best for them,” Joanna said.

  “I’m sure you do,” Ahmad agreed.

  “How do you travel?” she asked, eager to learn more about the life of the royal family. “Do you have your own plane that takes you wherever you want to go?”

  He told her about the royal plane—though he didn’t get to use it very often—and about other perks he enjoyed as a member of Al-Yara’s royal family.