No Kendra, though, which was weird. She was usually here by now. First period started in ten minutes, and students were already trickling in and taking their seats, clinging to coffee cups just like I was.
Finally, a familiar set of footsteps caught my attention. I glanced around the room, making sure none of my students were trying to light farts with a Bunsen burner again—ah, teenagers—and then stepped into the back.
It was lab day in all three of her biology classes, so Kendra had her blonde hair pulled up tightly. She put her coffee cup down hard enough that it would’ve spilled everywhere if it hadn’t had on a lid, and then tossed her purse into the bottom cabinet that we used as a locker.
As she locked the cabinet, I lifted my eyebrows. “Traffic that bad this morning?”
“No,” she grumbled. “Had a nice chat with Principal Gray.”
“About?”
She huffed sharply, batting a few stray strands of hair out of her face. “Apparently some parents complained that using Pepsi cans for a physics demonstration was subliminally encouraging the kids to drink soda.” She rolled her eyes. “Gray didn’t think it was funny when I suggested using beer cans instead.”
“Gee, I can’t imagine why he’d think that wouldn’t go over well.”
“Right?” She scowled. “I just can’t believe they think their kids are that stupid.”
“Well, we could always combine that lab with the soda lab. Show them how soda affects the body, then do the physics lab.”
“I think I’d rather do the applied gravity lab with the parent in question.”
I chuckled.
“Anyway.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighed, dropped her hand and took a deep breath. Then she met my gaze. “I’m all right. Just annoyed.”
“I don’t blame you. Sometimes I wonder how these people can let their kids out of the house.”
“No kidding.” She shrugged. “Well, I’ll redesign the lab or paint the cans or something. If I use different materials, it’ll change the equations a little, but…” She waved a hand. “It’s doable.” She studied me and cocked her head. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
And you probably know exactly what it is.
“Yeah, I—” I glanced at the clock. Still a couple of minutes before the bell rang. Another glance into my classroom to make sure no bodily pyrotechnics were taking place. And then I faced her. “Listen, um…” I couldn’t quite hold her gaze. “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about.”
She nodded, absently brushing a loose blonde strand behind her ear.
I stared at the dingy white floor between us for a moment and finally looked at her. “Is the offer still…”
“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. She came closer and lowered her voice. “Have you talked to Shahid about it?”
“I brought it up last night.”
She folded her arms loosely beneath her breasts. “What does he think?”
“He’s not quite sure how he feels about it. Especially the, uh, method.”
Her cheeks colored a little. “Well, there are ways around it. Pretty sure I’ve got a turkey baster lying around some—”
Felicia stepped into the back room at just that moment and eyed us. Then she picked up a stack of worksheets and disappeared again, shaking her head as she went.
“Oh for God’s sake.” Kendra covered her reddening face.
I snickered. “Relax. She probably thought we were talking about a lab.”
“I hope so,” she mumbled.
“Anyway,” I said, sobering. “Shahid and I, we’d kind of like to sit down and talk with you about it.”
She lowered her hands. “Really?”
I nodded. “We’re not necessarily saying we’re going to take you up on it, but we’d like to, you know—”
“Of course. I totally understand. We—”
The bell rang.
“Crap.” She glanced toward her own classroom. “We’ll talk more over lunch, but yeah, let’s definitely sit down. All three of us.”
“Okay. Why don’t we figure on dinner tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday, right?”
“It better be.”
She laughed. “No kidding. And yeah, sounds good.” Gesturing toward her classroom, she grumbled, “Now let’s go before somebody burns the place down.”
* * * * *
On Saturday morning, I rolled over to see something that would never get old—Shahid sleeping soundly beside me. It was a bit of a rarity these days, thanks to one of the only downsides to his job: the demanding shifts. Aside from the occasional racist or Islamophobic remark, he loved his job. Especially since he’d switched over to West Ridge Hospital instead of that clusterfuck over at Adams Memorial, he was perfectly happy. As long as he was happy, so was I.
During his three-day rotations, though, we didn’t see much of each other at all. If he came home while I was asleep, he’d sometimes crash on the couch or in the guest room to keep from waking me up, and if it was an especially busy night, he wouldn’t even be home until long after I’d gone to work. If he was working days, he was usually up before I was, and he’d be running out the door before I’d even made my coffee.
When he was off, though, especially if it was on a weekend or during summer break, we had all the time we wanted unless he was called in.
He was on call this weekend, but so far, his phone had stayed quiet, so he was sleeping in. And since it was a Saturday, so was I. Well, sort of. I was awake, but in no hurry to get out of bed. I couldn’t help savoring these mornings when neither of us had to rush anywhere.
He was on his stomach, his face mostly buried in the pillow. Stubble darkened his olive-skinned jaw. That wouldn’t last once he was awake—he hated being scruffy. Not that he was opposed to facial hair, though. In fact, he kept a short, trimmed goatee. It wasn’t ideal for a Muslim, who should’ve had a full beard, and he’d caught some grief over it, but his imam and his family had agreed that it was the best option for someone in his profession. Considering how many bodily fluids he could wind up wearing during a shift, the general consensus was that a goatee was a good compromise.
And I was totally okay with that because Shahid rocked a goatee. And scrubs. And scruff. So I stared at the scruff and enjoyed it while it lasted.
He grumbled something and stirred. Then his eye opened, and when he realized I was watching him, he smiled. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I leaned down and kissed his temple.
“What time is it?” he muttered.
“Why? We don’t need to be anywhere.”
He blinked and then sighed. “Oh, you’re right.” He moved closer, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders as he rested his head on my chest. “Ahh. We need to do this more often.”
“Mmhmm. Only eight more months till summer break.”
He draped his arm over me. “But Christmas break is, what, a month away?”
“Something like that. Not that you’ll be around.”
“Hey, now.” He chuckled. “You’ll be at your parents’ when I’m working doubles.”
“Good point.” I groaned. “I could always cut myself or something and spend Christmas with you at the ER.”
Shahid snorted. “Oh come on. It won’t be that bad.”
“Says you.”
“Well, just eat whatever dish your sister brings, and you’ll end up coming to see me anyway.”
I smacked his arm playfully. “That was one time.”
“Yeah. Plus the time her brownies could have doubled as charcoal briquettes.”
“Fair point. But her cooking’s usually fine.”
“Then I guess you’re not coming to the ER, are you?”
“Damn it.” I kissed the top of his head. “Well, at least we’ll be able to spe
nd some time together during the rest of my time off.”
He snuggled closer to me. “I’m looking forward to it.” He scratched his jaw. “Ugh. I need to get up and shave.”
“But…”
He looked up at me, and I gave him my best puppy dog eyes.
Laughing, he kissed beneath my chin and then settled on my chest again. “Okay, fine. Not yet.”
“That’s what I thought.”
We lay there for a while, cuddling lazily and half dozing until we finally decided it was time to start the day. It was only nine thirty when we got up, but with jobs that demanded consciousness before six most mornings, this felt deliciously decadent.
While I showered, Shahid did his morning prayers. I was the first one to the kitchen, so I put the kettle on for him while I started the Keurig for me. I listened for his salat room door to open again, gave it about two minutes and then poured the water and dropped a teabag in it. It had just finished steeping the way he liked it when he walked into the kitchen.
“Thank you,” he said as he took the bag out and set it on the edge of the saucer. “Perfect, as always.”
“You’re welcome.” I smiled as I stirred some sugar into my coffee.
He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the side of my neck. “Does this mean we actually get to eat breakfast together?”
“Mmhmm.” I turned my head, and he kissed me on the lips this time. “Omelet?”
“Yes, please.” He let me go. “I bought some green peppers and a couple of onions on my way home yesterday. You want to throw those in?”
“Oh, good idea.”
He helped me pull everything out of the fridge, and he cut up the onions because he’d mastered some sort of witchcraft that kept him from tearing up while he did it. Between us, we diced, grated and chopped everything, and then he leaned against the counter while I cooked it all. He may have known some onion-chopping wizardry, but he couldn’t make an omelet to save his life. The gods favored no one, apparently.
While his omelet cooked, I started frying three strips of bacon in a separate pan, carefully keeping it covered just enough to prevent any grease from jumping across to the first pan. Shahid didn’t mind me eating bacon as long as I didn’t expect him to cook it and I kept it separate from anything I made for both of us.
Once everything was finished, we sat at the table for the first actual breakfast we’d had together in ages. We caught up on the past few days—students and patients provided no shortage of entertaining stories—and Shahid didn’t say a word about his eggs being slightly burned.
After we’d finished, we refilled our cups and took our seats again. Elbows on the table’s edge, he cradled his steaming tea mug in both hands. “So what time is Kendra coming over tonight?”
My gut clenched. That was this evening, wasn’t it?
“Um.” I cleared my throat and stared into my coffee. “Six.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You okay?”
I met his gaze. “Yeah. I guess A little nervous about this, though.”
He reached across the table and put his hand over mine. “Nervous?”
I swallowed, letting the warm presence of his hand settle some of my nerves. “Partly because I’m worried if we go through with this, it might be our last chance. So what if it doesn’t work?”
Shahid nodded slowly and squeezed my arm. “I know. But if this doesn’t work, then I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” He didn’t sound the least bit resigned or uneasy. And I knew him—he wasn’t just saying that because he was tired of exhausting all our options, or because he was pessimistic or optimistic about how things might go with Kendra. Shahid fell back on his faith more than most people I knew, and if this didn’t work out and it wasn’t meant to be, he would make peace with it long before we knew one way or the other. He was probably already at peace with it now.
God, I envied him that.
I took a deep breath. “And then there’s the other part. I mean, if we’re not going to go the medical route, it basically means one or both of us having sex with her until nature cooperates.”
His fingers twitched on my arm. Subtly but unmistakably. Adam’s apple jumping, he picked up his tea with his free hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that part too.”
I studied him. “And you’re still okay with it? I mean, with even considering it?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest.” Shahid chewed his lip. “Listen, even if we do decide to go through with her carrying the baby, can I, um, think about that part for a while?”
“Of course.” I took his hand. “There’s no time limit either way. We should all be a hundred percent on board.”
“I know. That said, if adoption isn’t going to work out, I honestly can’t think of many other women I’d trust with this route.”
I didn’t know if “this” meant the pregnancy or the method of conception, but either way, I agreed.
“We’re not making any commitments tonight,” I said. “We’re sitting down with her, and all three of us are talking about it. Nothing more.”
He nodded. “And don’t get me wrong—I’m interested. I like the idea. I’m just…”
“Not sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not either.” I squeezed his arm. “To be perfectly blunt, I’d rather accept that we’re not going to have kids at all than go into this knowing it bothers you.”
Shahid put his hand over the top of mine. “Let’s not jump that gun quite yet. We’ll talk to her. We’ll all sleep on it. And we’ll see what happens.”
I nodded.
He patted my hand, then stood and started collecting our plates. “I’ll do the dishes.” He paused to lean down and kiss my cheek. “Then we can go out and get something to cook for dinner tonight.”
“Sounds good.”
While he went to work on the kitchen, I went upstairs to put on something more presentable than a faded T-shirt and sweats. As I did that and gathered up laundry to take back down with me, my stomach was queasy with nerves.
There was no telling how tonight would go. Kendra could change her mind. Shahid could decide that there was no way in hell he was okay with either of us—most likely me—sleeping with her. This could get weird. Had it already?
And though I felt guilty for it, I had to admit that assuming Shahid was okay with this, the thought of sleeping with Kendra turned me on more than I’d expected it to. I’d never denied that she was attractive, and now that there was a very real possibility of having sex with her with my husband’s blessing, I caught myself thinking about her in ways I hadn’t before.
It wasn’t like I’d never noticed her before. She was beautiful, and there was a reason she turned heads everywhere she went. Her smile made her students stutter, and her eyes made every male—and at least a couple of the females—on the faculty forget what day it was.
And her physique… Well, she was incredibly active. She ran three times a week no matter what the weather was like, and not only did she coach sports all year long, she actively participated in them right alongside her students. Nobody made varsity softball unless they could hit at least three of her pitches in a row. Cross-country runners had to be able to keep up with her for an entire course and then run two more laps around the track. And all it took was one game with her to convince her basketball team that height only took a player so far—she was barely five-six, and she was still unstoppable on the court.
Needless to say, she was fit. And gorgeous to boot.
Sleeping with her wouldn’t be a tall order for me. It was Shahid I worried about. It had taken me years to convince him that being attracted to both men and women was no different from him being attracted to blond and dark-haired men. Forming a monogamous relationship with me didn’t negate his attraction to blond men any more than it negated his attraction to other dark-haired men. He still notice
d other men. So did I. The only difference was I also noticed women, and eventually, he’d realized I wasn’t going anywhere. That there wasn’t a woman on earth who could take me away from him, any more than there was a man who could.
He’d been insecure about it for a long time, but he’d relaxed as the years had gone by and he’d realized I’d sooner cut off a limb than cheat on him.
I hadn’t had a girlfriend since college, hadn’t touched a woman since a good year before I’d met Shahid, and we’d been together for eleven years. Though I still noticed women just like I noticed men, I hadn’t felt like anything was missing. I was perfectly happy with Shahid, and our sex life was—work rotation permitting—amazing.
But the prospect of physically being with a woman again excited me.
And it would sure as hell be more enjoyable than filling out adoption agency paperwork.
Chapter Four
Kendra
I parked on the curb in front of Gabe and Shahid’s two-story colonial. Considering it was early November, their yard looked a hell of a lot better than mine. The rose bushes were cut back for the winter, and the lawn was trimmed and as healthy as could be expected this time of year. The homeowner’s association was usually on their asses about the grass, because heaven forbid two working adults let the lawn get a single millimeter over the prescribed length. I could always tell when spring had begun, because Gabe would be grumbling about texts from the HOA.
“Longer than four inches?” he’d mutter. “My ass, it is. What’s this guy using to measure it? His dick?”
I giggled at the thought as I followed the walkway past their cars—Shahid’s muddy SUV and Gabe’s gleaming sedan—to the front door. On the porch, a pair of rustic metal jack-o-lanterns still sat beside the front steps, and a Halloween-style wreath with little black plastic witches and cats still hung from the door. I snickered. Halloween was over a week ago, and if their HOA was anything like mine, there was a rule that all decorations had to come down within three days. I’d have bet my next paycheck that was Gabe’s doing, just like the time he’d left his miniature Christmas tree glowing in the front window until Valentine’s Day as a “fuck you” to the “all Christmas decorations down by New Year’s” rule. The man lived to subtly antagonize the HOA.
The Best Laid Plans Page 3