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“I’ll return soon. I won’t be able to be apart from you too long. You know that.”
“How will I sleep?” I whined. At this point, I gave him all of the credit for my ability to find rest during the nighttime hours.
He looked genuinely concerned, and I think he liked the fact he had so much power over my insomnia. He’d often boasted it was because he made me feel safe, which I guess was the God’s honest truth.
“We will talk every night, and I will wait to hang up until you’ve fallen asleep. Will that work?” he offered.
I shrugged. “I guess,” I pouted and stuck out my lip. “I can’t believe I feel this way.”
“What way is that my love?” he asked.
I twitched my cheek as I thought about how to explain my feelings. After all, if I insisted he communicate his, I had to do the same.
“Um—well, before I relished my independence and loved being alone—but now, the thought of you being gone sends me into instant despondence. Is that even healthy?”
He nodded and stroked my hair. His succinct answer made me giggle in agreement.
“I’d choose this sickness over my numb state of existence prior to you.”
“Truth.”
***
Amir left, and I cried. Damn my hormones, anyway. And damn how that man had already changed me. I moped around the palace for a few hours, but then Anna insisted we go down into the plaza and buy some new maternity clothes. Since I was almost a foot taller than her, we couldn’t easily share clothes, and I was in desperate need of some pants that would expand.
We were surrounded by her battalion of men, as was normal, and I’d even grown accustomed to the protective entourage. After her kidnapping and then the few random threats shortly following the attack on Omar’s life, she wasn’t permitted to leave the protection of the penthouse without at least a dozen men as guards.
The building she lived in was the tallest in the world, and we rarely left the confines of its boundaries. Everything a person could ever want was somewhere inside the enormous skyscraper. That included shop after shop after boutique of everything and anything a soul could desire. Factor in the unlimited budget her generous and wealthy husband provided, and a shopping trip with Anna was just what the doctor ordered.
She was nearing her due date, but still managed to waddle around just fine. I was about four and half months out and was having more trouble than her. My back ached and every once in a while, I would get horrible cramps. I brushed them off as the baby moving or a tube pinching. I never let it show that I was in discomfort. I was much too stoic for that crap. Women carried and birthed children all over the world—most women, in fact—so I was not going to worry about it.
We had lunch at a little coffee house that made a decent mocha, and I swooned over the steamed milk offering.
“God, I miss Starbucks.”
“I know, me too. I think I’ll order a home cappuccino station and get the chefs to learn how to do it right.”
“The men will say it’s watered down still,” I rejoined.
“Yeah, but they don’t have to drink it. They can stick with their gelatinous battery acid if they want.”
I nodded in agreement. The men did like a form of coffee they had flown in from Morocco and was the consistency of pudding just before it fully set up. It was incredibly strong, and the one time I tried some, I bounced around the house like a freakin’ energizer bunny on crack.
“I can’t wait till I can drink the real stuff, though. Decaf just isn’t the same.”
“Yeah, but at least you might sleep tonight. And it’s better for the baby.”
I sardonically replied, “Better for the baby. I miss everything that’s better for the baby.” We both made sounds of loss at the few things we’d given up. For Anna it was also coffee and wine. For me, it was good whiskey. I absently said, “I think I might have almost been an alcoholic.”
“Really? You think? You did drink a lot, but it didn’t seem out of control to me.”
I shrugged, “Not a day went by. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Well, now you’ll be more aware. Do you think you’ll want more kids? You know, after this one?” she asked.
I think the look on my face was answer enough and she snickered. “Yeah, didn’t think so. I want at least two more—maybe even three or four more.”
My tone was totally sarcastic, “Oh God—shoot me now!”
