Page 136 of Scarred Crown

“I’m sure people have gotten married for worse reasons,” she says.

My phone pings with an alert from the hospital. Elena is out of surgery, and the doctor will be speaking to Kafil and Bahati within the hour.

“I’ve got to go.” I grab my blazer off the back of Posey’s kitchen chair. “Elena is out of surgery.”

“Good luck!” Posey calls. “Tell Nick I said hello.”

I roll my eyes at how blithe she’s being about the potential dissolution of my marriage. “Get right on that,” I mutter on my way out the door.

###

My driver drops me off at the front entrance, and I hustle my way through to the room Kafil texted me a few minutes ago.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach the room and Nick isn’t anywhere in sight. Maybe I can get in and get out before he appears. Despite Posey’s suggestion about Operation Get Nick Back, I’m not sure he wants to be back with me. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Seeing him makes my heart hurt.

While I make idle chit-chat with Kafil, my gaze keeps wandering to the door of the hospital room.

“Nick’s not coming today,” Kafil says when my attention slides back to him again.

“No?” I frown.

“Said something came up unexpectedly, and he’ll stop around later tonight or tomorrow.”

“Oh, well…” The sinking sensation in my stomach is unexpected. Even if my head wasn’t sure seeing him was a good idea, my heart clearly had other ideas.

Bahati appears at my side and runs a comforting hand down my arm. Her gaze is tender as she looks at me and then says a whole bunch of Swahili I can’t follow. But I catch Nick’s name a few times.

With a furrowed brow, I nudge Kafil. “I caught about five words, and three of those were Nick.”

“She thinks Nick will come around about whatever you’re fighting about,” Kafil says.

“How does she know we’re fighting?” My cheeks heat.

“Nick mentioned this morning that the two of you weren’t seeing…” He seems to flounder for a moment. “Eye-to-eye.”

I’m surprised Nick said anything to Kafil, but none of us are acting exactly as we might normally. My world, at least, has been turned on its head.

“Is that all she said?” While I don’t speak the language, it seemed like she said a lot more than he translated.

“Hmm.” Kafil rubs the back of his neck. “She thinks he’ll get over the argument because of what he named his foundation.”

“His foundation in Tanzania?” Now I’m really confused. “He calls all his foundations a version of the same thing. N.E Summerset-Bellerive Tanzania is probably this one, right? The country at the end changes, but the rest is the same.”

“You really don’t know?” Kafil chuckles.

“I guess not?” I search his face. “What’s the one in Tanzania called?”

“The J.J. Bellerive Foundation.”

“What?” I press a hand to my chest, and I gape at Kafil.

Bahati grins, and another stream of Swahili flows out faster than I can pick up.

“She said everyone asked him who J.J was, but the first time she saw you two in her home, even before she knew you were Julia Jensen, she knew you were J.J.” Kafil’s pleased grin matches Bahati’s.

Nick named the Tanzanian foundation we planned as kids after me. He named it for me before I appeared in Tanzania, before we shared a tent, and before we got married. I’m stunned, but there’s a strange warmth emerging in my chest. Even when we weren’t speaking, even with fourteen years between us, Nick loved me enough to stick my name on something he intended to do alone, without my knowledge. He loved me enough to include me even when he couldn’t figure out how to draw me back into his life. The realization is amazing and frustrating at the same time. So many wasted years.

Just then the doctor enters to give us a rundown on the successful surgery. I listen and answer any relevant questions, but my brain is already at the palace, hunting down Nick, telling him that pause doesn’t work for me.