by Liz Crowe
“Dinner. Yeah. That’s right, that meal I was supposed to have two hours ago but am not getting for another three.”
He opened their suitcase, and found her robe, then began plucking her clothes off, piece by piece, kissing exposed flesh as he went. “Such a whiner,” he whispered, cupping her full breasts, marveling at the sweet taste of her nipples. She’d already had him once on the plane ride over, in the empty first class section. He smiled at the memory, loving her voracious appetite for sex.
She ran her finger along his zipper. “Metin,” she whispered, easing it down and gripping his shaft.
“Hmm…?” He ran his palms over her naked flesh.
“Can we… here? Because I’m in serious need of some distraction.”
He laughed, turned her so she faced the twinkling lights of Europe across the Bosporus. Putting her hands on the chair, she arched her back, wiggling her hips, her ripe, warm body temping him.
“We can do whatever you want, wherever you want,” he whispered, sliding into her.
“Good. Now. Fuck me like you mean it,” she growled.
And he did.
Alicia rolled over, utterly confounded about where she was. A strange tingle between her legs and a sudden, alarming cramp in her lower belly forced her to a seated position, terror taking over at the realization she should not be having anything like that sort of pain.
“Ow.” Swinging her legs to the side of the bed, she limped into the giant bathroom. “Ah, fuck!” she cried out, the cramp doubling her over, unable to catch her breath.
A slick sensation between her thighs, and bright red blood hitting the floor at her feet was the last thing she remembered.
“Alicia. My darling. Please, wake up.”
She put her hand over her eyes to block to god-awful light shining in her face.
Sounds hit her ears. Pinging, soft voices speaking a language she didn’t understand, and the voice—the one she wanted to hear. “Metin?” she said, her voice a weak whisper.
“Praise Allah.” Metin’s mother cried and rushed out to get a nurse.
He stayed next to her, his dark eyes full of worry.
“What happened. I… it hurt… I’m, oh, no.” He shook his head, which made her dissolve into tears. Gathering her in his arms, he held her until she lay back, thirsty and aching in body and soul. “Is my family here?” she croaked out.
Metin wiped his face and nodded, then kissed her dry lips. “You must rest. We can’t risk this again.”
Confused, she clutched his hand. “Risk what again?”
Mel ran in, wild-eyed, and he stepped away to let her sister grab onto her. “Oh, my god, Alicia, leave it to you to go thousands of miles and scare everybody like this.”
“I’m… Mel… what happened? I lost the baby, didn’t I?”
Mel glanced up at Metin, where he slumped against the wall, staring at them both. “No, honey. Your placenta was out of place and had a small rupture is all. I mean, it’s serious, but your baby is fine.”
“Oh, god.” She burst into tears again, so sick of crying she couldn’t stand it, which made it worse.
Once she calmed, they spoke with the obstetrician who assured them in perfect English that women had placenta previa all the time. But since her placenta had proven a little susceptible to tearing, she would have to take it easy. And she’d have to be closely monitored to see if it remained out of place when it was time to deliver. Metin’s brothers filed in, patted her hand, hugged their brother, and filed out again.
His mother hovered, as did Mel, although she appeared exhausted and travel-worn. “The boys are with Daddy at the hotel.” She accepted a cup of coffee from a nurse. “I came straight here.”
“I’m sorry,” Alicia said to the room in general.
“For what, my love? We had no way of knowing this,” Metin waved a vague hand over her middle section, “placenta thing was an issue. Now we do. So we adapt. And we go on with the wedding. The dressmaker is at the ready, and all that’s left is your sister’s fitting and your final. Everything else is managed.”
Mel shot him a look that Alicia caught, making her wish he had not said it that way.
“Did you ever consider that I might like to be in on some of that?” her sister asked, her voice rising.
“Mel, you know it wasn’t going to work out for you to be here to do anything. Can you just enjoy it, for me? Without picking fights with him?”
“I’m sorry,” her sister said, the insincerity in her voice loud and clear. Alicia suddenly dreaded the coming days.
“Can I give you a ride to the hotel?” Metin asked.
“No, stay here with her.” She brushed Alicia’s hair back off her forehead. “I’m good. Your parents have a driver waiting, your brother told me.” She leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Poor sweetie. All will be well. I’ll see you guys in the morning once she’s released.”
Her sister left and Alicia took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about her.”
Metin’s face broke into the smile that hit her right in the heart every time she saw it. “It’s okay. Part and parcel of you. And as long as the “you” part of that equation never changes, I can put up with her.”
Chapter Fourteen
Alicia could not have special-ordered a better wedding day. The huge tent covered guests from the sun’s glare. Her dress fit like a charm. Melanie looked radiant in hers. Her father beamed as he escorted her down the aisle. And the moment she lifted her gaze to Metin’s and said “I do,” her resolve cemented. She wanted this, her new life, and had no regrets.
The doctors had given her a green light but warned about “energetic sexual activity” while her placenta healed. She and Metin giggled about that like naughty teenagers for a while and made a promise to keep the energy to a minimum while the heat stayed dialed up for the duration of their two-week honeymoon on Turkey’s southern, Mediterranean coast.
At twelve weeks, the nausea had disappeared like a puff of smoke. She felt great, energized, ready for anything, just in time really. Unfortunately, by the time the reception wound down after hours of dancing, laughing, singing, and being made to feel welcome by her new, large, boisterous Turkish family, an argument broke out between Mel and one of Metin’s brothers. Ending with Mel breaking a glass over the man’s head and stomping out of the party.
But Alicia refused to let it dampen her mood. Mel had always pissed people off and made scenes. Nothing new there. Alicia put her aching feet up on a nearby chair and watched Zach and Tanner speaking the international language of football with about a dozen other boys, a couple of girls, and her husband, out on the giant lawn in the dusk. She wished she could join them, but Metin had been firm, using his caveman voice and warning her to stay put, or else.
When someone sat next to her, placing a large glass of ice water on the table, she tensed a little, still nervous at the concept of a mother-in-law. “Thank you,” she said to the attractive and imposing woman, who merely nodded and sipped her tea, watching the kids and her youngest son kick the ball around. “Apologies for my sister,” she said, her throat clogged with anxiety.
“Oh, my dear,” Feyza Sevim said, patting her hand. “Your sister is wonderful, full of life, with such handsome boys. She is angry, though. And I am sorry for her. My son, Bulent, has a stupid mouth most of the time. He likely deserved what he got from her.”
“You don’t have to be so polite. Mel is very difficult. She’s had a rough go of it.”
“Metin told me. And I don’t blame her a bit for not trusting men. The creatures are inherently untrustworthy. I know. My own husband has had his girlfriends once or twice, until I told him I would castrate him with my filet knife the next time. That was fifteen years ago.”
Alicia spluttered and laughed, setting the glass down.
“But one man you will never have to worry about.” She pressed down on Alicia’s hand and nodded toward the impromptu pitch, where Metin held one of his nieces on his shoulders and dribbled the ball past t
he other kids. “That one. That boy is truly my pride and joy. A real man—as in one who can be trusted. A rare thing. His problem is that heart is too large. He feels everything very deeply, always has.” Turning back, she pinned Alicia with a stare she would never forget. “Don’t hurt him. Or you will deal with me.” Then the angry mama bear faded, replaced with the same sweet smile Alicia had come to love on the face of the woman’s son.
“I would never do that, anne,” she said, shyly using the Turkish familiar word for “mother.”
“I sense that about you. It won’t be easy, coping with a fairly traditional Turk. But it will be worth it.”
Feyza rose, waved a hand, and Metin’s father materialized at her side. He pulled Alicia up, gave her a giant bear hug and kisses on both cheeks.
“Lucky me!” he bellowed. “A beautiful American Goldilocks for a daughter-in-law.” Taking his wife’s hand, he led out her for a final dance.
Alicia saw the emotion and connection between them, and at that moment believed she could envision her future. She put her hand on her stomach and smiled as Metin made his way back to her. With messy hair, tie askew, some kind of stain on his crisp white shirt, he looked utterly perfect, a balm to her soul.
“I love you,” she declared, wrapping her arms around his sweaty neck.
“Yes, and a good thing, too, since now,” he whispered, cupping her ass and pulling her hard against him, “you are mine.”
“You’re a pig,” she giggled.
Metin loved nothing more than aggravating her with pseudo-macho crap. But part of her wondered at times, how much of that he faked and how much was ingrained in his psyche. Deciding not to worry about that yet, she let him lead her to the dance floor and into their life together.
Chapter Fifteen
Two Years Later
“Alicia, I told you I don’t mind. Truly. We have to do it. Ayden, stop it.” Metin picked up the boy and swung him up onto his shoulders, mainly as distraction from torturing the cat.
They began to romp around the large living room of the Madrid condo, forgetting as always that they were inside as they barreled through the loft, Metin batting a soccer ball in front of him. She sighed and put her feet up, staring at the email from her sister once more.
Ayden called out for her, claiming his papa was tickling him.
“I’ll punish him, canim,” she called out, using the Turkish “darling” by habit. Formulating a response in her head to her sister’s invitation to spend Christmas in Grosse Pointe took more energy than she had at the moment.
The squealing and laughter continued as she stroked the large tabby cat she’d rescued from the streets of Istanbul a few weeks before Ayden had been born. Metin had freaked out, calling down all sorts of peasant Turkish curses on her head, claiming the animal would kill them in their sleep, or at the very least, infect the newborn baby with cat scratch fever or some nonsense.
His mother had been worse. But Alicia had cried and they’d acquiesced to her in her last stages of pregnancy, far from her home. The animal had never been at ease around Metin, which she attributed to its being abused by men perhaps. But it loved her and the small boy, from the moment they had brought him home. Turks did not “do” domestic pets, she learned. But it was one more habit she was breaking Metin of—the main one being so overprotective, he nearly smothered her with his worrying and fussing.
She re-read Mel’s message. They’d been planning to alternate each December between Michigan and Istanbul, but after the first year, when her sister and Metin had done nothing but snipe at each other, and Zach had been rude enough to Metin to cause his grandfather to take his car keys and ground him, Alicia vowed never to subject her small family to that again.
But Mel claimed she had a new boyfriend, one their father liked, who worked at the same auto company that had fed and clothed them their entire lives. They’d met at the Y when they signed up for the same exercise machine by accident. Mel admitted she’d been her bitchy best and the man backed off, only to show up the next day and ask her out on a surprise date.
“Stupid fucker,” Mel liked to say about him. But lightness in her sister’s voice betrayed her. Alicia prayed the woman would find some happiness, or at least a reason not to be so bitter.
Mel had traded alcohol for exercise in the last year and become borderline obsessive about it. After getting hooked on Bikram yoga, she’d moved to spinning bikes, gotten trained as a teacher, and spent ninety percent of her time working out or teaching classes. She hardly cooked anymore either, her younger boy claimed with a pout. But Trevor had procured a maid and cook, unwilling to rock his older, confusing daughter’s current boat by asking her to resume domestic duties at his house.
Alicia looked up and her heart nearly burst with happiness at the sight of her husband on his back, holding their son up “like airplanes,” with his arms spread and his belly resting on Metin’s feet.
“Mama!” he screeched, having only two volumes: louder and loudest. “Mama! Come and get an airplane from Papa! He says you like it!”
She frowned when Metin snorted and cocked an eyebrow at her. Then stood and paced around, nervous about going home and subjecting them all to Mel’s drama.
“We must go, my love. It’s your family and they are requesting us. It’s what one does, no matter how much one doesn’t want to. Besides….” He put Ayden down on the floor. The boy promptly scrambled under the table in pursuit of the cat. “I’m the one she loves to torment. And I’ve learned to take it.”
“You are too good to be true, Metin Sevim. How do I deserve you?”
He pulled her close and pulled the tieback from her hair, letting it tumble down around her shoulders. “You don’t. Just ask my mother.”
She smacked his shoulder then leaned against his chest, her favorite place, to hear his heart beat in her ear. Ayden emerged, dragging the poor, resigned animal with him. The cat never scratched him, ever, but had been known to growl a warning right before he lost patience. The creature went limp and let the miniature Metin schlep him over to the couch, where Ayden sat and pulled out a book to “read” to him.
Alicia watched the tiny, serious, bundle of sheer energy she’d given birth to. She’d surprised herself, how much she enjoyed having the baby in her life. Remembering a resentful Mel and the fussy newborn Zach, she’d been dreading it. But the moment they placed the warm bundle in her arms after a scary emergency C-section, she was a goner, flipped and totally in love with the child.
His dark eyes never left hers those early days, as if memorizing her. And she would lose entire hours of her time, holding him, rubbing lotion on his light brown skin, counting his fingers and toes, and kissing them over and over again. She worried about herself some, but Metin would come home from his practice and sweep them both into his arms, crooning, singing, kissing, then send her off for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Those had been some of the most exhausting, and happiest times of her life.
The whole of Metin’s family had been enthralled with the quiet baby from the beginning. So much so, Alicia would sometimes get resentful of the time she did not have alone with her child. But after the Turkish national team finished their practice sessions and embarked on an epic run all the way up to the finals of the World Cup, only to be beaten by his Real Madrid teammates on the Spanish team, she itched to be alone, away from the incessant noise of the family. She, Metin and baby Ayden had their own luxury flat, at her insistence. But she never got left alone with her own thoughts. His family wouldn’t hear of it, and filled her days with visits, teas, shopping, walks, everything and anything but a simple, good-bye and see you in a few days.
Her own family hadn’t seen Ayden in person until he turned one, when they came, en masse, for a month in Spain. Metin had been the perfect host, dragging everyone to every single tourist attraction he could find and some they found on their own. But each night devolved into a round of, when are you going back to play soccer, Alicia? from her sister, and angry rebuttals of leav
e her the hell alone, Mel, from her husband. She shook her head, recalling those stressful weeks.
The last year had been relatively peaceful. Except for the paparazzi of course, but she’d gotten used to having her picture taken. She was usually with Ayden, out for a walk or a shopping trip on the Madrid streets. And the occasional “gala affair” required of them, which she enjoyed for about an hour until her breasts would leak, or her head would pound with worry about her baby boy. Not so much a baby anymore, either.
Metin pulled her over to the large leather chair and into his lap and they watched their son make up stories for the cat, which sat, under duress, pinned by his legs.
“My darling. Aren’t you ready to return to the States? He’s nearly three. We promised that we would give you your shot. The tryouts are this spring. If we begin now, we can get you in great shape by then. You should start reaching out to some teams. Let them know you’re….”
She ran her hand down his strong arm, threaded her fingers in his, and stared at him, struck all over again by how handsome he was. How frustrating he could be and how much she adored him. He smiled at her, puzzled.
Putting his hand on her stomach, she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Sixteen
The journey to Michigan went exactly as Metin anticipated—horribly. The first plane ride had god-awful turbulence, causing Ayden to cry and throw up all over his first class seat.
There were no direct flights from Istanbul to Detroit, so they’d flown to Amsterdam first, and endured a mind-crushing, five-hour layover, during which Ayden pitched two full-on tantrums that Metin quelled in his own strict way, pissing Alicia off.
But she was in her own stew of stress and early hormones. At one point, he glanced over at her while he held a hysterical two-and-a-half year old boy to his chest and tried to calm him. He smiled, weakly, wondering how the fuck he’d gotten to that moment, smelling like puke and piss where the kid’s diaper had leaked on him, with a wife angry at his heavy-handedness with their son, and headed straight into a shit storm of “holiday with the in-laws.”