The Sheikh's Illicit Affair (6 page)

SEVEN

“I did it!” Megan said excitedly, holding her cellphone to her ear.

“Did what?” Rachel asked.

“I am walking right now to my consultation at the sperm bank.” She turned the corner onto the next block, swinging her free arm cheerfully at her side.

There was a long silence. Then, “Megan. What happened to thinking about things for a while?”

“This is only the consultation. I’m going mostly to get more information so that I can make the best decision. There’s only so much info online, you know? I want to talk to them and see the facility.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair. If everything goes well, how soon will you get the sperm and everything?”

Megan dropped her voice. This wasn’t exactly the most appropriate conversation to be having while walking down the crowded sidewalk. “Well, I have to find a doctor to do the insemination and everything and schedule it. And then there’s the bigger problem. I have to pay for all this. Insurance won’t cover anything until I’m pregnant.”

“It is expensive?”

“Expensive enough. I’ll have to save up. But I have a savings plan. I sat down earlier and figured out my bills and what I can afford to put away each month. I don’t think it’ll take too long, and the money I made on Zaakir’s lessons will give me a boost.”

“Wow,” Rachel said. “Okay then. You’re really doing this. Megan, you’re going to be a mom.”

She broke into a huge grin and giggled. “I know! So are you. We’ll be moms together!”

“Well, we are so starting a mom’s group. And this will make your Mommy and Me classes more interesting. You’ll have your own child there.”

“I know.” Megan took in a breath and sighed dreamily.

“Is this the type of thing where you can pick if you want a girl or a boy?”

“Well, no. I don’t think I would pick, though.”

“You wouldn’t? I thought you’d want a girl. A little ballerina.”

“I wouldn’t pick, no. I like the idea of fate choosing my child for me. And besides, plenty of boys dance. If he wanted to do sports, I’d be fine with that, and even if I had a daughter, there’s no guarantee she’d be into dance. I didn’t exactly take after my parents.”

“Yeah, well. Yours don’t have the most interesting career goals.”

“Their goal is and always has been whatever will make the most money.”

She stood for a moment, looking up at the building that housed the sperm bank. The logo was on the glass door, beside large photo displays across the front of the building.

“I know,” Rachel said. “And that’s why you didn’t want to do it their way. Doing the thing you love is always far better.”

“Very true. Okay. Well, I just got here. Wish me luck!”

“Good luck, future mommy!” Rachel made a kissy noise and Megan made one back before hanging up.

Megan smoothed down her shirt and stepped forward to open the door. Inside, the building was clean and elegant. The walls were a crisp white and many had more of the large photos of smiling children and families. A long desk ran along the far wall, and several comfortable-looking chairs sat off to either side. The color palette was pastels in soothing colors. Clearly, they were going for comforting and peaceful with their décor.

She approached the smiling woman behind the desk. “Hi, I’m Megan Van Lieden. I have an appointment for a consultation.”

“Okay, sure.” The woman typed on her computer, then furrowed her eyebrows. “Megan, you said?”

“Yes.”

Another few moments went by. “Is there any chance it could be under a different name?”

“No, that’s my only name.”

“And it was for what time?”

“Umm, 5:30. I think I talked to you yesterday, actually. On the phone.”

The woman looked up at her for a moment. “Oh, right. Your voice does sound familiar, and I do remember entering your name. I can’t find your appointment, though. Please bear with me one second.”

The woman got up and went through a doorway off to the right. Megan looked around, glancing over brochures and reading the ads on the wall again and again while she waited. It was several minutes before the woman came back.

“I am so sorry, Megan. There seems to have been some sort of mix up. Your appointment was never entered into the system, so it didn’t get scheduled. I was checking just now to see if we could fit you in, but all of our consultants are already booked. We’ll have to schedule you a consultation for another time. I do apologize.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment dropped into her heart like lead.
Well, that’s okay,
she thought.
This didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t all some huge sign from the heavens that I’m making a mistake. Right?

The woman looked at her computer screen, typing away. “I have some timeslots free early next week. Monday or Tuesday?”

“Sure. Monday is fine.”

“Okay, great. I definitely have you in there now for Megan Van Lieden for Monday at 5:30. Once again, I’m so sorry about the mix up.”

Megan walked outside in somewhat of a daze. She tried to let the disappointment go. This had only been a consultation, after all. Nothing major would have happened other than she’d ask some questions and get some information. And besides, it’d take a few months for her to save up for the procedure, so it wasn’t like this really held anything back. So, why did her stomach hurt?

She took out her phone to call Rachel back. “Me again.”

“Hey, that was quick.”

“I didn’t have the consultation. Something got messed up and they didn’t have me in the system.”

“Oh. So, did you reschedule?”

“I did. For Monday.” She let silence fall between them for a few seconds. “I think, though, that this bothers me. It feels like a sign.”

“Megan. This is not a sign. This is a mix up in scheduling.”

“I know, but it feels like a sign. I tried to reconcile with my parents, thinking mentioning a grandchild would work and it didn’t. Now I try to make an appointment to get information and that doesn’t work, either. Both of the steps I tried to take toward this have failed.”

“You know what I find interesting?”

“What?”

“It’s like you’re looking for an excuse not to go through with it. You’re seeing all these signs everywhere. Maybe that in itself means something. Maybe you’re secretly hoping someone will stop you. That someone will give you an out.”

“No, Rach’, I really want to do this.”

“Megan. Listen to yourself. An appointment got moved back a few days and you think it’s a grand sign that you shouldn’t be moving forward, or that something is trying to stop you. Did you really think your parents were going to come around after all these years of being so difficult? No, you knew that was never going to happen. But you’re letting these things bring you down. I just wonder if there isn’t a deeper reason.”

“But the consultation was going to help me think about it, remember? It’s about getting answers.”

“Okay, well get your answers and think about it for a while. Really think this through, despite whatever signs you might be seeing. There is no undoing this once you go there.”

“I know.”

“It’s not just your life that’s affected by this. There’s a child involved now. Well, there will be. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Megan let out a sigh and opened the door to her building. “You’re right. I did make the decision quickly. But I’ll have the consultation, and it’ll take me at least three months to save up to pay for everything. Maybe longer. So that’s at least three months of really thinking it through.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“Oh! And another thing.” Megan stepped onto her landing and turned toward her door. “I’ll get to spend time with your baby and see how mommy really life is. That might help me decide more than anything else.”

“True. Very true. After you see me as a zombie from not sleeping, maybe you’ll decide beauty sleep is more important. And hey, you can always borrow my kid for the night so I can sleep.”

Megan laughed. “We’ll see. Maybe if I decide that I want the practice.”

EIGHT

For the next few days, Megan’s thoughts were a tangle of Zaakir and her possible future child. As she danced through her studio, she thought of them both. She pictured how she and Zaakir had looked dancing together in the studio’s mirrors. She saw them in the bar together, his smile and his smooth accent. But then she pictured her dance classes with her youngest students: the Mommy and Me classes, and beginners’ ballet. In a few years, she might have a child that age, dancing in a class like that.

She wondered which day Zaakir would be married on. She’d never even asked if the ceremony would take place in New York or in Al-Sharrabi. Was Saturday the traditional day for weddings there as it was here? And how long would he and his new bride wait to have kids of their own? Would they have kids before she did? Maybe they’d both become parents at the same time. Maybe he’d find that, despite whatever the traditions were in his country, he’d be able to love his children like he’d never been loved. Maybe he’d break the cycle of heartlessness and show them how to have the type of love and family he longed for. Maybe she was overthinking all of this! Thoughts of her future and his kept getting mixed up in her head.

She resolved to trying not to think of Zaakir. Of him dancing with his wife, of him kissing her. And especially not of him on his wedding night, even if she had on several occasions pictured what the rest of his muscles might look and feel like.

At the end of the teaching day, as Megan was doing her cool down, the familiar chatter of her phone told her it was time to go. Time to move to the business end of her day and attend to the emails and phone calls she had been able to put off during class time. She walked over to her phone and began scrolling through her notifications.

To her utter surprise, there was a waiting message from Zaakir. She tapped the icon immediately to open it.

Megan, would you have time for one more lesson? I know your weekend is about to begin, but I would appreciate just a little more of your time.

Another lesson? After two sessions he was already more than proficient in the tango. He did not need another lesson. There was no reason for her to accept, and with the feelings she’d been having for him, she knew she should turn him down. But the fact that he wanted to see her excited her. She wondered again if maybe he had feelings for her like she had for him. Then she quickly erased the thought and replaced it with a thought of his future wife. What did she look like? What would she be like?

Well, Zaakir would know soon enough. So, why did he want to spend time with Megan now? He was torturing her. Putting himself in front of her like a carrot she could never reach.

His phone number was at the bottom of the email and, biting her lip, she called.

“Al-Hosseini,” he said sharply.

“Zaakir? It’s Megan.”

“Megan.” His voice melted instantly. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize the number.”

“I just got your email.”

“Ah yes, I know it’s last minute, as they all have been, and that it’s a Friday. You are likely eager to get on with your weekend, but would you have time?”

Did she have time to see him again? She’d find a way to make time. Rachel’s comment returned to her; if she couldn’t have him forever, she might as well have him for as long as she could. Even if it would make things harder later.

“I think I can fit you into my busy schedule of yoga and TV.”

He chuckled. “I’d like us to meet at my home this time, would that be all right with you?”

“Are you sure that would be okay? Won’t people find it strange?”

“Why should they? I have staff coming and going all day. I have people to cook and clean for me, why shouldn’t I have a private dance instructor as well?”

“Oh, so I’m just another one of your hired hands, am I?” She smiled as she said it.

“Oh no, not at all,” he said with a chuckle. “You agree then?”

“If you’re sure it’ll be okay.”

“Perfect. My driver is on his way now. Has he arrived yet?”

She looked out the window as the black car pulled up to the curb. “He just got here.”

Well that was fast. And more than a little presumptuous
, Megan thought hotly. What if she’d turned him down? Not that it would be difficult to just return the car in that event, but the fact that he had sent the car meant he’d assumed she would come.

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

Megan still needed to change out of her leotard and skirt. She went to the window and waved at the driver, then hurried to the bathroom where she had her bag with her street clothes. This was the second time she wished she’d had something to wear besides jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe she should start keeping something nicer at the studio, just in case.

She pulled off her dance outfit and hopped into her jeans, then yanked her T-shirt over her head. Her bun was a messy tangle, so she let her hair down, shook it out, then redid her loose bun. She quickly brushed on some of the powdered makeup she always had in her bag, inspected herself one last time, and returned to the front of the studio.

Megan turned out the lights, flipped over the “Open” sign, and locked the door behind her. She hurried to the car and slid into the backseat. She had half-expected Zaakir might be there waiting for her and was slightly disappointed to see the car empty, but for the driver.

The car drove off and she watched the city pass by, wondering what in the world she was doing. Was she really going to Zaakir’s house, to the house of a man she had feelings for, who was about to be married, to give him a private dance lesson? It didn’t matter what he said, she realized; this wasn’t right and she shouldn’t be going.

She took out her phone to text her primary source of sanity.

Rach. Freaking out here. Zaakir asked for one last lesson AT HIS HOUSE. I’m in the car he sent for me, being driven over there right now. This feels wrong. Help!

Her friend didn’t take long to respond.

His house?! This sounds like a booty call to me.

No, you think so?

All the other lessons were at the studio. Why is this one suddenly his house?

Megan didn’t have a good answer for that. She was wondering why herself.

Because he’s busy?

Right. Busy planning a wedding.

Megan let her head fall back in frustration.

Ugh! What should I do?

Well, you could just go and do the lesson and nothing else. No one’s forcing you to sleep with him.

I know, but should I even be there if he’s practically married? Wouldn’t his fiancée have an issue with that?

Maybe. It’s not like here, though. Have they even met?

I think once or twice?

So, it’s not like when Matt and I were engaged and were in love. Maybe in his country the groom can sleep with a beautiful woman right before the wedding. Who knows. It could actually be just how they do things.

I don’t know if I could actually sleep with him, though. I mean, I want to, but that just feels so wrong.

The thought alone made Megan squirm with heat, tingles running all over her skin. His muscles, the smooth way he glided over the dance floor, his strong grip as they moved together. He was probably a dream in bed.

Well, you know. This could solve your other problem, too.

Which other problem?

“You wouldn’t have to pay for sperm from a bank if you got pregnant the traditional way.”

Megan’s mouth dropped open when she read the text. Before she could respond, Rachel sent her another message.

Just kidding! Definitely don’t do that.

Sheesh. For a second I thought you were serious. Though it would be a gorgeous baby
.

LOL. Okay. So dance lesson, and that’s it.

She could do that. Even if it would be tricky to turn him down should he want more than just a lesson, Megan knew it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t sleep with a promised man, no matter how badly she wanted him.

Right. Actually, this will still help with your baby situation, now I think about it. He’s going to pay you, right? And if he pays as well as he did last time, you’ll be much closer to saving up.

True. It will help a lot.

There you go, then. Teach the handsome sheikh to dance, take as many photos of his house as you can to show me later, and have a fabulous time! I’m jealous.

Thanks. Talk to you later!

Yes you will! I want details!

Megan grinned as she put her phone back in her purse. This is why Rachel was her best friend: she always knew what to say, how to say it to make sense, and how to make her feel better. Things seemed to be in much sharper perspective now. She was only going to teach him. The money would help her save for the baby, and that would be that. He’d go on and get married next week, she’d go on and get pregnant in a few months’ time. They’d have their separate lives and never see each other again. A little spot of sadness bloomed in her chest when she thought of it, but there was nothing to be done about it.

She was going to see him soon, though, and a burst of excitement overrode the sadness at the thought of it. What did his house look like, she wondered. He had a palace in Al-Sharrabi, so did he have a mansion here? Or the New York equivalent of a mansion—a penthouse? It had to be gorgeous. Tastefully decorated and elegant, like he was. He probably had a whole team of interior designers. Oh, how lucky his future wife was. Had she ever been to New York? Would she love it or hate it?

Megan didn’t know how far she’d expected to ride to get to his place, but it took more than a half hour until they turned off the road. She peered through the window, expecting to see a house, a mansion, a skyscraper—but instead, she found herself looking at an airfield.