by Holly Rayner
"Take all the time you need," Tehar said at once. "But I believe I've already made my decision."
"Really?" Kathy stared at him. "It's that easy for you?"
"I knew the moment you sent me that text," Tehar replied without a hint of doubt.
Kathy's heart skipped a beat. They'd reached her door, and for a moment they paused and Kathy considered inviting him in. Before she could make up her mind if she wanted to, Tehar took her hand, kissed the tops of her fingers like a fairytale prince, and stepped away.
"Goodnight, Miss Burgess," he said.
"Kathy," Kathy corrected him again, instinctively.
"Kathy," he repeated with a small smile, and before she knew it he had vanished down the stairs. Kathy, a little overwhelmed, turned and went inside.
You're home late, Tessa texted as soon as the door shut behind Kathy. What happened? Should I come over?
It went great, Kathy texted back as she shuffled off to bed. I'll tell you in the morning, but I think all my problems are solved.
Chapter Six
Even with the wine making her mind slow and heavy, it took Kathy a while to fall asleep, her brain humming with thoughts of the Sheikh and his offer. She still had a lot of doubts. What if he wasn't what he seemed? What if something went wrong? What if she had this baby and then couldn't bear to give it up, even for two weeks a month? And was it wrong of her, morally, to have this child for the sake of money and a house? Would it grow up resenting her for the reasons she'd chosen to have it?
There was still a lot to consider. But she was, for the first time, honestly excited about the prospect of having a child. It had been this looming, dreadful necessity before, but now she was kind of looking forward to it. She was imagining buying baby clothes and reading bedtime stories. With the inheritance money, maybe she'd transfer back to Colorado so that she could raise the baby in the family home. She could see it so clearly when she imagined them in that setting. School plays, holidays, summers in Abu Sadah with Tehar, standing on the shore of some exotic island holding the hand of a child with his deep olive skin and her eyes…
She fell asleep with that image in her mind and dreamed of it all night. In the morning, even after the wine and the rush of excitement had worn off, she was still certain. This was what she wanted. He was what she wanted. She made herself give it a day anyway, but by the afternoon, waiting any longer seemed pointless. She knew.
As soon as she'd wrapped up her last recording for the day, she knocked on Tehar's office door.
He called out for her to come in, and she opened the door to find him standing behind his desk, sorting papers into a small case. He smiled when he saw her, closing the case and coming around the desk to meet her.
"Miss Burgess," he said brightly. "You look good. All done for the day?"
"Yeah, I'm about to head home," she answered, smiling. "But I wanted to talk to you first. I thought about what you said last night and—"
"One moment." He cut her off, stepping past her to shut the door to his office. "Please continue." He smiled, stepping back.
"I thought about what you said." She looked down, pushing her hair back behind her ear. "I wanted to give it another day, but I realized I was just putting it off for no reason. I had already made up my mind last night. I want to do this with you."
Tehar's smile brightened and he grasped her warmly by the shoulders.
"That's fantastic!" he said. "I was hoping that was what you were going to say!"
"I was thinking we could maybe go somewhere tonight," Kathy said, grinning. "We could talk about doctors, make a plan, establish a timeline. I need to have a baby or at least a viable pregnancy by March of next year to meet the terms of the will, so—"
"I'm afraid I can't tonight," Tehar said with clear reluctance. "I'm leaving for the airport directly from here."
"Right now?" Kathy asked, surprised. "I thought you were supposed to be here for a few months?"
"I'm needed in Abu Sadah urgently," Tehar explained. "I should only be gone a few days. A week at most. We can make plans when I return."
Kathy wilted, unable to hide her disappointment.
"Of course," she said. "Do whatever you need to. I'll do some research here and try to have as much as I can ready for when you get back."
"Thank you, Kathy," Tehar said, taking his case off the desk. "I'll be back as quickly as I can."
He stepped past her towards the door and then paused.
"Please keep our arrangement to yourself," he said, turning back to face her. "I know it's a lot to ask, considering. But the company cannot afford another scandal right now, and if the press thought you and I were…involved. I'd just rather have a plan and go public when we're ready, you understand?"
"Yeah, absolutely." Kathy nodded in understanding. She hadn't really thought about what would happen if their arrangement got out, but she could see how it might cause problems, especially if the nature of their relationship was misconstrued. "Don't worry. I'll take care of things here."
"Thank you, Miss Burgess," Tehar said, opening his office door. "I'll see you soon."
He hurried off and Kathy followed him, still trying to mask her disappointment. She watched him hurry off down the hall, feeling at a bit of a loss. They had just made this enormous, life-changing decision together, and now he was leaving. She'd wanted this to be a business arrangement. She'd wanted them to stay emotionally detached. But maybe she'd hoped for a little more involvement than this. She sighed and pulled herself together. She needed to get home. She was going to spend the evening researching, and the next day visiting doctors. She had a lot to get done.
"What were you talking to the Sheikh about?"
Kathy turned, surprised, as a voice spoke behind her. Mitchell, in his usual ugly Hawaiian print shirt, was standing at the end of the hall, grinning like he'd just caught her red-handed at something.
"Are you and the chairman…?" He made a vulgar gesture with his hands.
"No." Kathy rolled her eyes. "Don't be disgusting. I was just asking him about something for work."
"What do you have to talk about with him that you couldn't talk about with me?" Mitchell asked, scowling. "I'm your boss."
"Nothing important," Kathy said, searching for a plausible excuse. "I was just asking if QIC Media had any openings in Colorado. I just inherited a house there, and I'm deciding whether to sell it or move there."
"So, you're looking for another job and you're trying to go over my head with it?" Mitchell's face was turning red with anger under his orange spray tan.
"No," Kathy said quickly. Christ, if he thought I was leaving, he'd make my work a living hell. "I'm not moving. I just wanted to ask. I'm not going anywhere."
"I swear to God if you're job hunting and just drop us with two weeks to find a replacement—"
"I'm not job hunting, Mitchell!" Kathy said impatiently. "Jesus! Relax! I'm going home!"
She hurried out before he could launch into a rant that would keep her there all evening. He'd make her pay for even the thought of leaving, she knew. If she'd been being considered for any kind of pay raise, that was out the window. He'd probably cut her hours and try to scrap her personal projects for a while too until he was 'sure' she wasn't leaving.
Whatever, she thought with a huff. She probably was going to transfer to Colorado, anyway. She wasn't getting anywhere professionally in South Beach. She'd move to Colorado when the pregnancy was too far along to keep working, and once she'd recovered she'd look into one of the larger networks. Maybe field journalism again. She'd love a chance to travel. Whatever she decided to do, at least she wouldn't have to deal with Mitchell much longer.
Kathy kept busy all weekend, comparing doctors and making plans. It was tedious work, but this kind of research was what she excelled at. It was what made her a good journalist. She was never afraid to slog through the raw information, as much of it and as long as it took to parse things. She wasn't the type to let people hand her opinions or to just report wha
tever sounded most exciting.
She wanted—no, needed—to know what she was talking about, comprehensively and in context. Her dad had drilled that into her. You could have quizzed him about any article he'd ever written, and he'd be able to give you the facts of the situation down to the minutest detail. More importantly, he could then bring those details together into a perspective that made sense, and Kathy prided herself on doing the same.
"The headline, the simplified bit that draws people in, is important," he used to say. "But if you don't have substance underneath, if you have no truth to impart or at least a perspective you can open people's eyes to, then you're not just wasting time, you're actively misleading people. Fear-based media that riles people up just to make money, with nothing to back it up and nowhere to direct all that emotion, it's the cancer that's eating this country."
He'd been fond of the 'cancer of society' metaphors before his diagnosis.
It was either very late Sunday night or very early Monday morning, and Kathy was still gathering data and feeling like she hadn't made any progress. Perhaps because she was too tired to think better of it, she picked up her phone and texted Tehar.
Are you busy? I'm still looking at doctors and I could use a second opinion, she wrote.
She went back to assembling her options in a spreadsheet and had almost forgotten she'd texted him at all until, about fifteen minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Shouldn't you be in bed? it said. It must be four a.m. there.
Sorry, she texted back quickly and almost left it at that. After a moment, she kept typing. I have no idea what time it is where you are.
He replied quickly this time, almost as soon as she hit send. I'm having lunch in Abu Sadah. Why are you up so late?
I don't like to stop until I'm done, she replied. I probably won't have time during the week, so I wanted to get this part taken care of.
This time there was a small pause before he messaged her again.
I'd be happy to take a look.
Great. I'll link you to the spreadsheet.
Spreadsheet?
She sent him the collated data, and another fifteen or twenty minutes passed. She made a cup of tea to hopefully bring her down from the several-coffee-cups-deep caffeine high she was currently riding.
Finally, her phone buzzed again.
Of the local doctors, options B and C seem to be equally qualified, but C's reviews seem more trustworthy to me, he’d written.
That's what I thought, Kathy agreed. But C is a lot pricier.
Price is not a concern. I would meet with them all in person, but I'm leaning towards C, Tehar texted back. However, if you're willing to travel for the procedure, I know a doctor in Europe whose qualifications are more extensive than any of the local options. I have met him before and know him to be reliable and discrete.
I couldn't ask you to fly me to Europe, Kathy replied, frowning. And the doctor is probably way out of my price range as well.
As I said, the price is not a concern, Tehar texted back at once. If it makes it easier, do not think of it as me doing a favor for you. I simply want my child to have the best possible care.
Kathy considered it for a moment, her pride wanting her to fight it but logic telling her a better doctor she didn't need to pay for was clearly the better option.
I'll add it to the spreadsheet, she said. Then, too tired to stop herself, she kept typing. So, what are you doing in Abu Sadah?
There was a long pause before he wrote back.
Do you remember the cousin I told you about, Shadaf? The one who was always ill?
Yes, your best friend.
Well, he's a grown man now, but he's still always ill. An immune deficiency disorder. He's been managing it well for years, but he collapsed last Friday. I wanted to be here. In case this was the time he didn't recover.
Kathy was stunned for a moment, feeling guilty for how she'd resented his leaving.
I'm so sorry, she wrote. How is he?
There's nothing to be sorry for, he replied. We have all been preparing for this most of Shadaf's life. Every extra day we have with him is a gift. He hasn't woken yet, but the doctors say the worst danger has passed.
Kathy breathed a sigh of relief and put her tea down. She didn't know Shadaf, but she didn't want Tehar to lose his oldest friend.
I'm glad to hear that, she wrote. Hopefully he’ll be all right.
Hopefully, he replied, but she could feel all the gathered doubts, the many other terrible possibilities, lurking behind that word. How has your weekend been?
Kathy smiled, pleased by his interest.
Mostly I've just been working on this, she admitted. Had a great little run-in with Mitchell right after you left, and now he thinks I might be looking for another job so that's going to be a joy to deal with.
Do you want me to talk to him for you?
No, don't bother, she wrote quickly. She told him, in brief, about her tentative plan to move back to Colorado to live in the family home.
It sounds like a good plan, Tehar agreed. I've been to Denver on business. The mountains are beautiful. And I have business connections there that can make certain you're taken care of.
That makes me sound like a mob wife.
In many ways, being connected to a royal family is not so different.
Careful, you'll scare me off.
Wait till I tell you about the family reunions. Teta Padme's Tabulleh, now that's something scary.
She was still typing a reply when another message arrived.
Wait, this is silly, let me just call you.
Kathy felt an unexpected delight that he was enjoying their conversation so much. Surprised and pleased, she waited, and a moment later the phone rang.
"I just remembered as I dialed," he said as she picked up the phone, his voice rich and warm on the other side, "that it is nearly five in the morning where you are. You should go to bed."
Kathy was tempted to argue, but her head felt like it was full of lead, and her eyes itched like she'd rolled face first through a sandbox. She turned off her computer's monitor and staggered to her feet.
"Yeah, you're probably right," she said, stumbling into her room. "It's nice to hear your voice, though."
Being tired made her distressingly honest. There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. She could hear birds, their cries exotic, familiar only from movies set in tropical locales.
"It's nice to hear your voice as well," he said with surprising gentleness. "Good night, Miss Burgess."
She fell into her bed with a sigh, too tired to correct him.
"Good night, Tehar," she said instead, and was asleep before she could even end the call.
Chapter Seven
She called him again two nights later, earlier in the evening this time. Ostensibly, it was to talk about doctors again. She'd visited their two top options and wanted to share her progress and get his feedback. But really, she just wanted to talk to him. They traded updates on work and Shadaf's health and then just talked about whatever came to mind. It was, Kathy found, deceptively easy to talk to him. She could easily lose hours to a conversation with the Sheikh.
The next night he called her, and the nightly call became an easy habit for which Kathy was incredibly grateful. The week might have been unbearable otherwise. Mitchell was, predictably, making work a nightmare. Tessa had a deadline coming up and couldn't be coaxed away from her computer for anything less than the promise of non-microwaved food. And the stress and tedium of trying to get everything prepared for IVF was getting to her. She'd spent most of the week talking to her insurance and setting up doctor's appointments for the required checkups and screenings and fertility work.
It was exhausting. And to top it all off, Valentine's Day was approaching.
Valentine's Day had never really bothered Kathy before. This was hardly the first time she'd celebrated Singles Awareness Day with Tessa instead. But this year it felt a little crueler watching everyone pair off and
fawn over each other when she was alone, preparing to start a family.
It left her feeling a little sullen, bitter at society's fixation on performative romance and at her own loneliness. She didn't want to be in a relationship. She didn't have the time or the temperament for it. But damn if this time of year didn't make her resent not being in one.
The studio was throwing a little staff party, despite the general lack of enthusiasm for such a thing among the crew who would either rather be out with their significant others or at least not be reminded about their lack of one. It was Mitchell's idea, and Kathy had an unpleasant idea that it was a ploy for hitting on the interns. Some people never learned.
Kathy wasn't looking forward to it, but she resigned herself to showing up anyway, if only because she was expected to. She'd stay just long enough to prove she'd been there, then she'd go home and watch horror movies with Tessa over pizza and hot wings. Then the next morning, they'd rake in the discount chocolate.
The party took place in the biggest conference room. The furniture had been cleared out and a snack table set up against the back wall, covered in store-bought heart-shaped cakes and those sugar cookies that Kathy always thought tasted like sand. There were some pink and red streamers and decorations from the dollar store up, and the most popular tunes of the mid-nineties playing. A couple of cheesy games had been set up, as well as a little photo spot with a heart-shaped backdrop and some silk roses, like a particularly sad junior prom.
It all looked impossibly embarrassing, but people were trying to have a good time anyway. Kathy lurked near the photo spot with a glass of champagne, wondering how long she should stay before it was okay to bail.
Mitchell was, as Kathy had suspected he would be, flirting sleazily with the youngest interns. Emma, the redhead, seemed to be a particular target. Kathy didn't have any particular fondness for Emma, who was a likely candidate to take her job one day, but she wouldn't wish Mitchell's affections on anyone. Mitchell kept leaning in closer to her, pushing another glass of champagne into her hands.