Page 128 of To Tango, with Desire

If this was morning sickness, I wanted none of it. I’d stupidly assumed that all the symptoms would occur later on in the pregnancy, but I was only six weeks along if I had my calculations correct. I had to book an appointment with the doctor if I wanted to have it confirmed, but the thought of doing that made this all too real.

I hugged the pillow at my side. I was well within my rights to remain childless. Lots of successful marriages didn’t have children. Yes, it was rare that people in our culture remained childless, but there was no reason why I had to abide by those unwritten rules. No doubt there were millions of married Lebanese women without babies.

I thought of Sahar’s kids—my niece and nephews whom I loved more than anything—could I devote so much time to another human being? My sister loved being a mother, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t. That the responsibility would feel like a burden, and no child should be brought up feeling neglected.

I couldn’t see it in our future.

The problem was, now that the reality of my pregnancy was here, could Zane? Did he truly not want children, or was he merely appeasing me?

Every man wants to see his own children.

I hated that Mom had gotten in my head. Her pro-child stance didn’t help one bit.

If Zane wanted this child, if he turned around and told me he’d changed his mind, would I be able to sacrifice what I wanted for him?

Or would this baby mark the end of our marriage?

AMIRA

“Surprise!”

It was three days after our video chat when I found my mom and sister at my door.

“What are you doing here?”

“Gate was open.” Sahar held up her car seat. Inside was a peacefully sleeping Emmy, who was clearly undisturbed by Robbie’s raucous singing. “Thought we’d let ourselves in.”

They must have just pulled up as Isabella had left.

Great.

“You should have called me and I would have dusted the spare rooms.”

“Don’t you have help for that?” Sahar peered over her sunglasses.

“Yeah, but not, like, all the time. We’re not a bloody hotel.”

I ushered my mom and sister into the house, the boys trailing behind them.

“Sorry, when Mom saw you throw up, she fixated on it until I relented. We’re only staying for a few days before going back.” Sahar pecked me on the cheek.

“You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like. I’ll be working next week though.”

“I know. I told Mom that, but she didn’t seem to care. Work can wait. Blah blah blah.”

“Have you guys had dinner yet?”

“Nope. Kids are feral.”

“I’ll pop a few things in the oven.”

“So when does Zane get home?”

“In a week.”

“I thought I was sleep deprived, but sis, you look wrecked.”

“It’s been busy.” And stressful.