Sheikh Yared was mildly interested at best, a brief smile lightening his otherwise gloomy face. Yonas was buried in his phone, while Noel escaped into a book.
Robel ran his thumb over his knuckles, anxiety settling in. Like it had every day since he’d pushed Sondra away. Like it might for every day after.
He tried not to think about it. He had a strict no-Sondra rule now and took great pains to avoid her. Sesuna finally got to the gift at the center of her box: a multi-tiered makeup kit and organizer, with enough pre-loaded eye shadow colors to paint a clown.
Winta gasped when she reached hers as well: a similar makeup case.
Both girls sighed, but it downgraded quickly into suppressed tears.
Robel sat up. “Hey now, girls. What’s wrong?”
Yonas leapt to his feet, going over to his sisters. “Sesi, Winti, come now. What’s wrong?” He pulled them both into a hug, sending a dour look over his shoulder to Robel.
“I thought they would like them,” Robel said, as though this might help.
“This isn’t what I asked for,” Winta cried, crossing her arms.
“We just want Mother,” Sesuna whimpered into Yonas’s shoulder.
The honest statement made Robel’s shoulders sag. Of course. That was all anybody wanted.
“I thought you wanted makeup,” Robel stammered. “And…and makeup organizers. Don’t you like them?”
Sesuna and Winta sniveled, while Yonas continued consoling them, sending occasional dirty looks over his shoulder.
“And what’s wrong with you?” Robel said, jerking his chin toward Yonas.
Noel snickered behind the book.
“I think we’ve all had it with your shit,” Yonas blurted.
Robel clenched his jaw, the same pangs of hopelessness and frustration as on the living nativity night coming back to him. It seemed nothing could go his way now. Not since the ankle fracture. Even less since the blowup with Sondra.
“And what shit have I given you, may I ask?”
“Well, we could be having a merry fucking Christmas, for starters,” Yonas said, “if you’d let our girlfriends join in!”
Robel’s face dropped. His brothers had asked—repeatedly—for their American girlfriends to attend this sacred, private, family gathering. Tradition didn’t call for temporary girlfriends to join the mix.
“Oh, would that really make this morning better?”
“Yes,” Noel spoke up.
Shiekh Yared heaved a heavy, doleful sigh. “You know, I really thought you and Sondra had something going.”
Robel blinked in surprise at his father. “Excuse me?”
“She seemed lovely.” His gaze drifted across the room, toward the tall, arched windows overlooking the gardens bathed in early morning sunlight. “You know, I chose them all for their skills. But I also had secret hopes that maybe, just maybe…” The wind went out of him, and he fell quiet.
“Maybe what?” Robel demanded.
Noel grinned, looking over the top of his book at their father. “Is this so, Father?”
Yonas chuckled as he rubbed both the twin’s backs. “Well I’ll be damned.”
The girls gasped, looking between their brothers and father.
“Must have gotten that one wrong,” Sheikh Yared muttered. “Seemed like a sure thing, too.”
“You actually want me to be with her?” Robel demanded. “She’s American.”
Their father sent him a look that could only say duh. “I’m aware.”
“But…” Robel began, “How could you think an American would be fit for the throne? Doesn’t she need to be Maatkaran?”
Their father rubbed at the spot between his eyes, looking wearier than ever. “My boys, I am a bigger believer in love than in rules. I could not have lasted these thirty years as ruler without your mother at my side.” His hand fell to his side, dangling off the edge of the arm chair. “And I do not know how much longer I will make it without her. Finding that support, that love, is more important than where they’re from. It can only be this way.”
The room fell quiet, broken only by the grudging murmurs of appreciation as Sesuna and Winta explored the makeup cases. And in the silence, Robel realized the throbbing truth of the matter.
The absence of their mother had been the friction in everything. The unhappiness. The tension. The utter lack of flexibility and ease.
Robel had been trying to make things progress as though their mother might return at any time. Keeping it up to her standards. Keeping it the same as always.
But this year, nothing had been the same. In fact, it had been bigger and different in more ways than he could even properly describe.
He pushed to his feet and walked, albeit slowly, toward the door, thanks to his much easier-to-use ankle brace. Noel glanced up at him but didn’t say a word.
“Where are you off to?” Sheikh Yared asked.
“Just a little task,” Robel said. “Something I’ve been putting off and absolutely must go finish right away.”
* * *
Sondra was lingering in bed when the knock came. At seven a.m., she instinctively knew who it must be, but feared finding out. Every inch of her body wished it was Robel, coming to climb into bed and melt away all the confusion and hurt with some soft kisses and caresses.
But more likely, it was a palace employee, coming to tell her that it was time to leave.
After all, Christmas in Maatkare had finally arrived. January seventh. Her services were no longer needed, and probably a helpful attendant was on the other side of the door, ready to usher her to the airport.
She debated not getting out of bed. Just pretending she was asleep.
The knock sounded again. She covered her face with the sheets. She could ride this out. Just stay hidden until they went way.
Except Nessa began crying. Loudly.
She rolled out of bed, heading for the crib in the adjoining room. She smiled down at her niece, picking her up. The girl immediately calmed, and Sondra straightened her back before heading to the door.
She pulled it open.
And her jaw dropped when she saw who was there.
Robel’s jaw flexed as he watched her, those familiar dark eyes gobbling her up as if they hadn’t seen each other for years, not days. Her breath hitched.
His dark, usually perfect hair was tousled and messy, as if he’d spent all night tugging at it, unable to sleep. Dark stubble dotted his jaw. And he was clearly still in his bedclothes: loose dark sweats and a T-shirt that said RAGDAR.
“Aren’t you just the picture of Maatkaran pride?”
A smile quirked his lips, but his gaze on her never wavered. One hand was behind his back. Hiding something. Either flowers or an eviction notice. She was scared to find out which.
“May I come in?”
“Not if you plan to kick me out.” She hoisted Nessa, hating how relieved she was to see him. Like his mere presence could completely absolve all the hurtful things he’d said. The way he’d treated her. She stepped aside anyway, allowing him enough room to pass. She could at least hear him out.
“That’s not my plan, I assure you.” He stepped inside, his sandalwood scent reaching her. He wasn’t using crutches anymore. He looked almost entirely healed. She rolled her lips inward, steeling herself. She didn’t know what the game plan should be, but it probably didn’t involve taking this man straight to bed.
“Well. Enlighten me. What is your plan?”
Robel sighed, revealing what he’d hidden behind his back, looking more uncertain than she’d ever seen him. He unfolded a newspaper. She’d seen it before—it was the Ragdar Times. But she couldn’t read a bit of the all-Arabic newspaper.
“What is it?”
“I think I was wrong,” he finally said. “About the living nativity. About a lot of things.”
A laugh escaped her. “You think?”
His jaw worked back and forth, then he said, “I know I was wrong. And this paper proves it. Not that you neede
d to see to know. But the front-page article here is all about the wild success of the quirky living nativity scene that all of Maatkare is demanding become a part of the new cultural traditions.” He paused, his eyes shining. “That was all you. And your name is even in here. I made sure of it, when the journalist called to congratulate the palace.”
She looked at the article, then back up at him. “Well, I bet your father is happy he chose to hire me. Not that you would have made the same excellent decision.”
“I might not have. And I would have been all the worse because of it.” He wet his bottom lip, looking down at the article. “And now I need your help.”
Some of the anger returned to her from the other day. But it didn’t sting as much as it once did. “Well, you’ll have to find it elsewhere. Because I already told you. I can’t work with you anymore.” She headed to the bed, setting Nessa down before sitting down herself.
“I need a Christmas miracle. And I think you’re the only one who can organize it.”
She narrowed her eyes. This sounded like a joke. Or at least an obvious attempt to make nice. “What do you mean?”
Robel tugged at his hair. “Well, my family has just had the worst Christmas in history. And I realized why. It wasn’t the event planning. It wasn’t the food. It wasn’t any of that. It’s just…my mother isn’t here. And we miss her. And we need to see her.” He looked up at her, that same heartbreaking honesty creasing his face. “Sondra, please help us see her.”
She could barely speak. “Y-You want to go to Switzerland?”
Robel nodded. “And I want you to come.”
“Me?”
He nodded again, a small smile tugging at his lips. “As well as the other girlfriends. Maia and Ana.”
Heat spread through her. She shouldn’t focus on that part right now. What the other girlfriends meant when it came to her. “Okay. But…when?”
“Now. Today.” Robel gnawed at the inside of his lip. “I haven’t told the family. I wanted to have a plan worked out first.”
“A plan?” The very word sounded like a joke to her. But immediately her mind leapt into action. Stringing together the threads, trying to find the new, better image that awaited on the other side. “I’ll see what I can come up with. But I don’t work miracles, you know.”
“No.” Robel came over to the bed, easing down beside her. He left a respectful distance between them but reached out and caught her by the wrist. “You do.”
She looked at the caramel skin of his big hand. The one that had squeezed her into orgasm just the other day. Her mouth went dry, and she forced herself to look up at him.
“Well, maybe sometimes,” she whispered. A moment pulsed between them. “Did you call me your girlfriend?”
Something resembling shyness flitted across his face. He looked away briefly. “Yes. I hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”
“You expect me to be your girlfriend after…all that?” She didn’t need to repeat what had happened between them.
“No.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles, his dark gaze sending a shiver through her. “But I do expect you to be my girlfriend after I make it up to you.”
She couldn’t fight the smile now. It was blossoming, blooming, unstoppable. “Yeah? You think some sweet words and a whirlwind trip to Switzerland is gonna make it up to me?” Tears pressed at her eyes, and she didn’t know why. She laughed a little, squeezing Nessa a little closer to her side. “Nessa and I aren’t so easy to win over. We’re gonna need a little more than that.”
“Oh yeah?” This time, the mischief in his smile was unmistakable. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Free flatbread for a year. Let me use this room whenever I want. Unlimited craft supplies.”
Robel laughed, running his hand through her blonde tresses. Pure delight shone out of him. It was hard not to smile when basking in that gaze.
“How about we settle on an unlimited stay in the palace, as long as you like?”
“As long as I like?” Excitement prickled through her. He inched closer on the bed.
“As long as you like,” he repeated, coming even closer. “As long as you’ll have me.”
“Ahh.” The grin nearly split her face in two now. Robel’s face was just inches away. He cupped the side of her face, and just before he pressed his lips to hers, she whispered, “Now that sounds like a plan to me.”
Epilogue
Robel trotted up the steps of the palace, the twins in tow. The sun arched overhead and bright, causing sweat to pool at his temples. Sesuna and Winta panted exaggeratedly as they lagged behind. The three had gone for a morning run, part of their family training for an upcoming marathon. The girls insisted on joining, and Robel was happy to have them.
Just like he was happy for a lot of things in life now.
“Robel?” Their mother peeked around the corner, her soft, naturally beautiful face lighting up as she saw her children. “Sesuna, Winta.” She opened her arms, the twin girls scampering toward her. They shoved themselves into her embrace. She’d been home for half a year now, but the twins acted like every day was her homecoming.
The absence of their mother had scarred them all in different ways. But the treatment had been successful. Their mother was going to be fine.
And thankfully so—because today was the most important day of Robel’s life.
“Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?” Sheikha Astair arched a motherly brow. She was already done up and ready, her cinnamon skin flawless, a maroon lipstick highlighting her full lips. Her still-thin black hair was swept up in a high, elegant turban of locally woven red and gold cloth. “And these girls. My goodness. Come, girls, you need to shower.”
The twins headed for their bedrooms while Robel rested his palms on the back of his head.
“I’m right on time,” he said with a smile. And it was true. He’d planned his wedding-morning activities without much regard for time. He knew it would all come together well. With Sondra at the helm, everything would unfold flawlessly.
“You could at least get dressed and stop giving your poor mother a heart attack,” the sheikha tutted. “Now go!”
Robel smiled to himself as he strutted down the hall. He and Sondra had planned this wedding together, every last detail, finding a blend of both Maatkare and America that satisfied everyone. Linh, Ana’s girl, was the flower girl, while Julian, Maia’s boy, was the ring bearer. Nessa, who was still barely toddling around, was an honorary flower girl who would not walk down the aisle. Both the flower girls were being overseen by Sesuna and Winta, who were more preoccupied with their new contouring makeup tools and could barely be bothered to look up from their hand mirrors.
Robel ran into Yonas and Noel on his way to his bedroom.
“There you are,” Noel tutted. “We were just about to send a search party after you.”
“Come on. Get ready!” Yonas tapped his watch. “We need this to happen, there are other weddings in line, brother!”
The three Yared brothers shared a knowing smile. Robel had the honor of marrying first, because he was the eldest. But in the coming months, both Noel and Yonas would be marrying their unexpected American loves as well.
Robel showered and dressed quickly, allowing Yonas to tidy up his hair. Then the brothers accompanied him through the palace to the formal gardens, where the altar and wedding party awaited.
Robel took his place at the altar with Noel and Yonas. This was one of the things that all three ladies had requested in their weddings—the American design. No brother was stupid enough to argue. Robel grinned out at the sea of familiar faces, finally landing on his mother and father in the front row. Holding hands. Smiling at one another. As if nobody else in the world existed.
Robel watched them until the music jolted him back to reality. Bridesmaids Ana and Maia and their little ones had already processed to the front. Violins plucked sweet, soulful notes as everyone stood.
And then his bride rounded the corner.
Sondra, dressed in an off-the-shoulder silk dress and holding light-blue lilies, appeared at the end of the aisle. The twins were behind her, holding her train. She started the slow walk down the aisle, everything about her beaming the radiance and softness and humor that he’d come to love. When she joined him at the altar, it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her right there.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, taking her hands in his after she passed off the lilies to Ana. “My stunning bride.”
“You’re more beautiful,” she said, sniffling. “I’m already crying. How am I supposed to make it through this?”
He grinned, tugging her closer, inviting a sweet whiff of lavender his way. “Well, first you say I do.”
“Not yet,” she said, shushing him, giggles rippling through her.
“But I do,” he said, leaning closer, lowering his voice. The priest was quieting the crowd, and they only had a few moments before the ceremony began. “And I always will. Because you were the best, most unexpected miracle.”
“Bet you didn’t plan for that, huh?”
Emotion tightened his throat. He cupped her perfectly matte cheek, loving the sweep of her eyeliner, the perky, pink lips, all the juicy womanliness that lay beneath the dress.
“I didn’t,” he admitted, cocking a smile. With a lift of his brow, he said, “But I do have plans for us later.”
She swatted at him, dissolving into laughter. She wiped away a tear that had spilled, and the priest sent them both a stern look.
Robel straightened, suppressing his grin. It was time to get married.
As the priest began the ceremony, Robel mouthed to Sondra the three words he’d never tire of telling her: I love you.
End of The Sheikh’s Christmas Lover
Christmas With The Yared Sheikhs Book Three
The Sheikh’s Christmas Fling, 6 December 2018
The Sheikh’s Christmas Family, 13 December 2018
The Sheikh’s Christmas Lover: Christmas With The Yared Sheikhs Book Three Page 10