by Holly Rayner
Additionally, his relationship with his parents was now better than it had ever been. Alyssa’s comment about him wanting to please them had gotten under his skin, and he’d worked to not let it show. So what if family mattered to him, now? That was something to be proud of.
“We should really get going,” Alyssa said, taking Rashid into one arm. “We’re meeting Lucy at Bagels Galore in ten minutes.”
“I didn’t know they sold wedding gowns,” Ali said.
The corners of her lips lifted the slightest bit into a smile.
“The carrier is on the hook by the front door,” he said.
“Okay, thanks. I may just take the stroller.”
“I’ll call you a car,” Ali said.
Alyssa pulled her phone from her back pocket and swiped away. “I just ordered one.”
Ali stood there, suddenly feeling worthless. It was a sensation he was not used to.
“Have a good day,” Alyssa said. “See you this afternoon?”
Ali wrapped his arm around her waist. “I want to take you out to dinner tonight. Somewhere special.”
Alyssa frowned. “But there’s no Kinsley today.”
“There are a million other babysitters in this city,” Ali pointed out.
“Yeah, ones we don’t know.” Alyssa sighed. “Um, can we just talk about it later? I really have to go. I’ll text you.”
A lump grew in Ali’s throat. “All right.”
He went and got the folding stroller from the hall closet, then walked Alyssa and Rashid down to the street. The car waited at the front of the building, and Ali gave them each a kiss before sending them on their way.
Back upstairs in the apartment, he went into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. His eyes fell on the bowl sitting on the island. Alyssa had not taken one bite of the oatmeal he’d made her.
Anxiety slithered through Ali. Pouring his coffee, he took it into his home office. Nothing like a bit of work to get his mind off his worries.
Except this morning, his brain simply would not get going. He sat in his office chair, looking at the building across the street, wondering if there was a better way of going about this wedding business.
He wanted to make Alyssa happy. She and Rashid mattered more to him than anything. But it seemed that Alyssa did not understand that if they did not go through with a Baqari wedding, a certain amount of strife was guaranteed to enter their lives. The influx of emails and calls from people demanding to know why they had not been invited, why there had been no traditional three-day celebration, and so on, would be nearly unbearable.
And his family… Ali groaned at the thought. There would not only be conflict with his parents, but with his cousins and aunts and uncles, too. Best to simply do what was expected so they could get the whole thing out of the way and carry on with their lives.
His phone rang, and he sat forward in his seat. It was his mother calling.
Ali paused. He loved Noura, and their relationship had strengthened over the past year, due in no small part to the baby. She had stayed in New York after Rashid’s birth, and now rented an apartment on the Upper East Side. In the last three months, she had probably flown between Baqar and New York close to a dozen times.
Ali was not in the mood to talk, but if he did not answer, he knew that she would only call again. Or show up at his front door. She liked to do that, and the doormen always let her in. Ali had a suspicion she’d won them over with those Baqari chocolates she so loved.
“Good morning, Mother,” he answered, spinning back around in his chair so he could look through the window while they spoke.
“Ali, good morning. How is my sweet little baby today?”
“I am fine, thank you,” Ali said.
“Oh, Ali,” she chastised. “I was speaking of Rashid.”
Ali chuckled. “I know, Mother. He is well. He just left with Alyssa to look at wedding dresses.”
There was a long pause, telling Ali he had said something wrong.
“Wedding dress shopping?” Noura asked. “She didn’t tell me about this.”
Ali shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “She wanted to keep it a small affair. Just her and Lucy.”
“Ah.” Another pause. “I know you will be wearing the standard Baqari robes, but what about Alyssa? Will it be an American wedding dress?”
“We haven’t talked much about it, but yes, I’m fairly certain it will be a white gown.”
“Very well,” Noura said. “Your father and I have been talking about locations, and Indonesia and Thailand are very high on the list. I know you like Singapore, but Rasa had his wedding there, so it is not possible.”
Ali ran his palm over his face. “Indonesia and Thailand.”
“Yes. What do you think?”
“I will have to discuss it with Alyssa, of course,” Ali said slowly.
Alyssa had said she would take some time to think about the wedding plans, but they had not discussed how long she would take.
“Good, good. I cannot believe she is trying on dresses without me.”
“Mother, don’t.”
“What?”
“Alyssa is under a lot of stress right now. Work and the baby…and we’ve been having some disagreements about the wedding.”
Ali wondered if he should not have said that last part, but it was already too late.
“Over which part of the wedding?” Noura inquired.
“She wants something small and intimate.”
Noura laughed. “That’s impossible.”
Ali’s teeth ground together. He understood what his mother was saying, but he did not like her laughing at Alyssa.
“It is what she desires,” Ali said, “and I find that perfectly acceptable.”
Noura sighed. “Yes, Ali, it is,” she said, her voice kinder. “But that does not mean it can happen.”
There was a shade of sadness in her words, Ali noted, and it caused him pause. Was his mother recalling her own dream wedding that had never happened, perhaps? Or something else she’d had to give up, in order to take on a prominent role in Baqari society?
“The wedding will be an exciting affair,” Noura said. “Tell Alyssa that she has never been to a Baqari wedding, so she has no concept of the joys of it. Tell her about the dancing, the music, the feasts.”
Ali found himself nodding, even though his mother could not see him. “Yes,” he agreed. “I will tell her. Perhaps show her some pictures of cousin Rasa’s wedding.”
So, there was an answer. Alyssa needed to have her excitement stoked. It made sense that she valued small, do-it-yourself weddings. Those were the kinds her friends arranged. Clearly, she could have no real appreciation of Baqari weddings, having never attended one.
“Show her Rasa’s pictures,” Noura agreed. “But point out that it will not be in Singapore.” She clucked. “An opening dinner in a casino; what on earth were they thinking.”
“It was fun, at least,” Ali said, remembering the week in Singapore, during which he’d gambled away an amount of money he would now shiver to think of wasting.
“What is it that Alyssa wants so badly?”
Ali ran his thumb down his jaw. “She showed me these photos of a friend’s wedding on a farm.”
“The ceremony can be outside,” Noura deadpanned.
Yes, but with how many people? Ali thought. At his cousin Rasa’s wedding, there had easily been three hundred people. Ali had gotten the impression that Alyssa was hoping for somewhere around twenty. If they combined their families and closest friends, it would not be more than that.
The bell buzzed, and Ali glanced over his shoulder. That had to be Marnie, the chef. He had completely forgotten she came on Saturday mornings, now.
“Mother, I have to go. The chef is here.”
“Call me later,” she said, “after you speak with Alyssa. We must select a location as soon as possible.”
“I will. Goodbye.”
Ali hung up, feeling heavy. He knew Alyssa wou
ldn’t want to come to a decision that quickly, but it was imperative, for after they picked the country and area, there would be the matter of selecting the exact venue.
His head spun with all of the work that was ahead of them. They truly could use a wedding planner.
He buzzed Marnie up, and she entered carrying two tote bags full of groceries.
“Morning!” she sang. “Where is my sweet baby boy?”
Ali crossed his arms and feigned irritation. “Everyone’s always asking after the baby. What about me? Am I chopped ham?”
Marnie burst into laughter. “The term is chopped liver.”
Ali took what looked like the heavier of the two tote bags and carried it to the kitchen. “That should teach me to stop trying out American colloquialisms. Rashid went with Alyssa to look at wedding dresses.”
Marnie gasped, her eyes taking on that shimmering all women’s seemed to when the topic of wedding dresses was mentioned. “How wonderful. Is she getting one today, then?”
“I don’t know,” Ali said. “But I hope so. We have little time left.”
Marnie pulled carrots and bell peppers from one of the bags. “You must be getting excited, then?”
Ali paused. What was he to say? That the more he thought about the wedding, the worse he felt? That he felt torn in half by competing desires to give Alyssa what she wanted and to take the easier path—which would, in the end, be best for all of them?
No. He couldn’t say any of that. His whole life, Ali had been strong. Confident. Decisive. On the rare occasions he was not those things, he merely pretended to be. In the end, all turned out well.
“Yes.” He forced a smile. “I am very excited.”
Chapter 3
Alyssa
They were in the most expensive part of the whole city. One Alyssa had never shopped in. Here, the term “department store” didn’t even exist. If a person tried to utter it, the sound would dissipate before it traveled anywhere.
Nope, on this stretch it was boutique after boutique, and there was one in particular they were headed for.
“I’m so excited,” Lucy squeaked. She pushed Rashid in his stroller, something she’d insisted on doing. Alyssa hadn’t minded; walking next to the stroller gave her a pretty good view of her son’s chubby-cheeked cuteness.
“Thank you for coming with me,” Alyssa said.
“Are you kidding? My best friend is getting married. I don’t want to miss any part of this. Hold on.” Lucy stopped walking and leaned forward, her long hair sweeping over the top of the stroller while she checked to make sure the shade fully covered Rashid’s face. “Do you think he’s too hot?”
“I think he’s fine,” Alyssa said, feeling Rashid’s cheek. “Where is this place?”
They passed a window full of draping clothes that Alyssa was sure could only look good on her if she were both six feet tall and weighed less than a hundred and twenty pounds. Supermodel row. That’s where they were.
“It’s right down here,” Lucy said. “A few more stores.”
Alyssa cast her a look. “How do you know?”
“Well…I may have gone in there once and pretended I was getting married so I could try on dresses. Or twice.”
Alyssa laughed. “What? How come you didn't bring me with?”
“First of all, immensely embarrassing. Second, the pre-princess-to-be you would have never set foot in such a fancy place. Legit, they serve champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries—the whole shebang. Lastly, it was a PMS-induced, spur-of-the-moment decision…both times…and the chocolate strawberries were honestly a big reason I went back. De-lish.”
“Hold on.” Alyssa pushed her slipping sunglasses farther up her nose, chuckling. “Did you really go in there and try on dresses twice?”
Lucy nodded. “And the second time, I told them my first engagement had fallen through, so now I was going to try again.”
Alyssa laughed. “You crack me up, Lu. I’m sad I missed out, but your secret is safe with me.”
“Look.” Lucy nodded. “Here it is.”
The shop's windows were expansive, but they looked small on account of the giant wedding dresses filling them. Alyssa paused, a thread of uncertainty sneaking through her. When she imagined her wedding dress, she saw something simple yet elegant. Maybe a mermaid cut, maybe an A-line skirt. All of the dresses in the window looked like they belonged to princesses—big, poofy skirts covered in gemstones.
Her conversation with Ali the night before came back to her. He wasn't officially a prince, but he was a sheikh. Royalty.
And the day she slipped on his ring and said “I do,” she would become royalty, too.
While Alyssa stood there on the sidewalk, Lucy strode right ahead and opened the front door. A sales rep hurried over as fast as her stilettos allowed and grabbed the door so Lucy could push the stroller inside.
“Welcome,” the woman sang out. “How are you doing today, ladies? Let me guess who the bride is. You.” She pointed at Alyssa.
“Righto,” Alyssa said.
Inside, though, she was raging. Just because I'm not pushing the baby stroller? It's okay to have a baby before you get married!
With a slight shake of her head, Alyssa realized she was still in a bad mood. She hadn't slept well the night before, and the morning with Ali had felt awkward. She was reading into things and being all-around grumpy.
“Wonderful,” the saleswoman cooed. “And when is the big day?”
“September.”
Her carefully groomed eyebrows flew up. “Soon."
“Yeah,” Alyssa agreed. That was the typical reaction, and it made Alyssa even more nervous.
“September is a great month, generally speaking. You can wear short or long sleeves. You can get away with almost any length. It's just a great time to put the dress first."
Lucy nodded emphatically.
“Well, right this way,” the woman continued. “Let's get you settled and then we can talk about options.”
She led them past racks of dresses and displays of gloves and veils. Another sales rep held up different pairs of heels next to a dress for a young woman and her mother to inspect.
At the back of the boutique, through a doorway decorated with paper flowers, a dressing room with a round, cream-colored couch shone with bright, complimentary lighting. Mirrors covered the walls, and several swinging doors led to changing rooms. It was like every scene Alyssa had seen in romantic movies wrapped up into one, taking place at the kind of shop she always figured she would never step foot into.
A young salesman with slicked-back hair and pants that fit like a second skin brought glasses of champagne and—just as Lucy had said—chocolate-covered strawberries.
How many people work here? Alyssa wondered as she accepted the champagne. She took a small sip and set it on the tray. Rashid was going strong on a diet of around half milk, half formula, and she didn't want to have a full drink in case he wanted to nurse later.
The salesman turned his back to Alyssa and quietly said something to his coworker. The woman’s gaze slid toward Alyssa, then quickly back to the guy. Alyssa swallowed and looked away. She had a sense she knew what was happening.
Turning around, the saleswoman clasped her hands. “Miss Cambridge, let’s talk styles.”
Yep. She’d been recognized. Funny how it had almost been a year since she’d first found herself being singled out as “the sheikh’s fiancée,” and yet she still wasn’t used to people giving her that second glance.
“Styles,” Alyssa repeated. “Um, I like mermaid.”
“Ooh, mermaid is good,” Lucy said, her mouth full of chocolate strawberry. Rashid whined in the stroller and Lucy put the strawberry between her teeth so she could pick him up.
“Mermaid is wonderful,” the saleswoman said. “We have that and everything else. Ball gown. A-line. Modified A-line. Trumpet. Sheath. Tea-Length. Mini. You relax and we’ll bring some back for you to look at.”
Alyssa nodded. She wo
uldn’t have minded going up front herself and looking through the racks, but both salespeople were already gone.
“They recognized me,” she said quietly.
“Yeah.” Lucy nodded. “How does that feel?”
“Weird.” Alyssa frowned. “Do you think they wanted me to stay back here so that they can only show me the most expensive dresses?”
Lucy rubbed Rashid’s back. “Girl, what do you care? You have billions of dollars now.”
Alyssa frowned even more. “No, Ali does.”
“You’re marrying him, and…” Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Your accounts are already linked.”
“Yeah,” Alyssa admitted. “But he doesn’t just throw his money around. If he did that, he’d be completely out.”
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t think his family is ever gonna be out of money. Not with the way their businesses rake it in. And what did Ali tell you about the dress? Did he say there’s a budget?”
“Um, no…he said I should get whatever I want.”
“Right,” Lucy said. She nodded past Alyssa. The salespeople were back, bringing a rolling rack with at least half a dozen dresses on it.
“How about this one?” the woman asked. She’d pulled a ball-gown style out. It had sparkles on its skirt, and the bodice was shaped like a heart. It reminded Alyssa of something she would have worn to prom—except that it no doubt cost about five hundred times more than any girl from Queens’ prom dress ever did.
“That’s nice,” Alyssa said noncommittally, hoping the woman would move on to whatever was next.
The sales rep hung the dress on a hook next to one of the dressing rooms. “It’s fit for a princess,” she said with a grin and a wink.
Alyssa glanced at Lucy.
“I like the bodice,” Lucy offered.
Nodding, Alyssa stood. She was pretty positive she didn’t want a ball-gown cut, but sure, she’d try it on.
The saleswoman, it seemed, was a true professional. She’d been able to tell Alyssa’s size just by looking at her.
Dressed in the ball gown, Alyssa entered the main fitting room. Everyone gasped—except Rashid. He just looked at Alyssa with big eyes, asking her where they were and what they were doing.