Sheikh's Fake Fiancee (11 page)

After Rose had disappeared behind the shutting elevator doors, she turned to her mother and led her to a plastic chair. It amazed her that even in the best hospitals, the waiting room chairs could also double for diabolical torture devices. Or bright orange parking cones.

“Mom, do you need to go home and get a change of clothes or a shower?”

Her mother shook her head, the graying strands of blond hair tangling over her face as she did so. “I couldn’t leave here if I wanted to. I have a bag with spare stuff and I can always shower in Syd’s room. She’s not going to be able to object…I…what if she can’t ever do anything again?”

Her mother started sobbing and that scared Jennifer more than anything else had, even Rose’s voice mail. She’d never seen her mother completely lose it before—not the day her father left, not with Syd’s other stays in the hospital, and not even when Jennifer told her about her sister’s need for a transplant. If even Carole Wilde thought that hope might be gone, then the situation was dire. Usually, her mother was the toughest damn woman she knew, as well as the biggest optimist. After all, where else would Sydney get her bubbly kindness from?

“She will,” Jennifer said, shushing her mother and rocking back and forth with her. “I’ll sit right by Sydney, hold her hand long enough for you to shower in the room. You’ll feel better when you’re clean.”

“What about you?”

She blushed, trying to think about how she’d explain her bath from last night. God, had it only been twelve hours since Bahan had made her scream in pleasure?

“I’m clean. Bahan’s jet had a shower facility on it.”

That much was true. She’d showered again over the Atlantic, not wanting her hair to be tangled or to smell like sex when she got to the hospital. It made her feel marginally more human, to accept the reality of the situation spinning out around her.

Her mother frowned, finally noticing that her husband wasn’t with her. “And where is Bahan?”

“He’s…we had a fight.”

“I don’t understand.”

She sighed and hugged her mother tightly one more time. “I don’t know if I do either.”

“Is he still in Paris?”

“He had sudden business come up in Yemen.”

Her mother pulled away and narrowed her sharp blue eyes at Jennifer. “Really?”

“Don’t you want that bath now, Mom?”

“Yes, but don’t think we won’t be talking about your missing husband more. I’m very disappointed in Bahan. He’s been so caring and generous so far. This doesn’t feel like him at all.”

She didn’t say anything as they entered her sister’s room. It felt like a hot poker searing her heart to see Sydney’s pale form laid out on the bed. Her face was the only part of her skin poking out from under her blankets, and it was as pale as a ghost. Her eyes didn’t even flutter under her eyelids, and the huge plastic tubes were pushing down into her mouth. Sydney was lost in wires as well, a mass of them plugged in around her heart to help monitor its slow but steady beat.

Jennifer stumbled and almost tripped into a chair.

“Honey,” her mother said, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, resettling herself and reaching out to hold her younger sister’s hand. It wasn’t cold but it felt so tiny and frail in her own, and she’d have given anything she had if she could take her younger sister’s place.

Anything
.

Her mom offered a hesitant smile before scooting to the bathroom, and as shallow as it seemed, Jennifer was glad. She needed a few minutes to absorb the shock of seeing her daughter so still and pallid. If she could just steel herself, gird herself against the crushing waves of sadness, then she could be the pillar of strength that her mother needed.

Come on, Jennifer, get it together.

Squeezing her sister’s hand, she also reached up and stroked Sydney’s soft, golden bangs back from her face.

“You’re going to need a haircut soon, kiddo. You wake up from this and you’re going to hate us because your bob is so growing out. No,
when
. You are going to wake up from this,” she said, forcing the sadness out of her voice. “I’ll so kick your ass if you don’t.”

There was no answer, of course, but sometimes she just had to treat Syd like the bratty little sister she could be.

Just one hint of normalcy wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“I love you,” she said, kissing her sister’s forehead. “You have to come back to me.”

Chapter Eleven

The next two weeks were the longest of her life. At first, Bahan called and e-mailed her daily. Jennifer sent those e-mails directly to spam, but once or twice she played the voice mails. He didn’t beg or sound desperate. A sheikh as commanding as Bahan Munir would never do that. But he did sound a bit scared, not for himself or their future, but for her and Syd. Jennifer texted him after the first week and promised she’d have Rose contact his secretary daily with updates and that, of course, he had complete permission to speak to the treatment team. She’d signed all the papers for that. But with her sister’s life at risk and their fight huge still lingering in her mind, she couldn’t speak to him.

He checked in with Rose and the doctors every day and gave his best wishes and any extra funding that Sydney needed. He even stopped calling her, following her wishes.

The thing about their fight that haunted her the most were his words. He had stated the truth. That had to be why it burned so deeply, because there was nothing she could do deep in her soul to tell herself he’d just made it up. She was scared. After her father’s and then Dustin’s betrayal, how could she not be? But this time she had struck first, and if Bahan hated her for all eternity, then Jennifer couldn’t blame him.

Sighing, she picked her book back up and started to flip through the pages. Her sister had always loved
Harry Potter
. It had never been her cup of tea. Sure, she’d seen the movies. Who hadn’t? Still, it wasn’t something she liked reading, although Jennifer wished she had a magical wand right now. She would wave it and say a few words of Latin and then make everything better. Maybe Harry couldn’t solve all his problems like that—he certainly couldn’t banish Voldemort in one go—but she wondered if there were magic or a totem or anything that could just wake her sister up. God, she wished that much magic actually existed in the everyday world.

“Well, let’s see. I think that he was about to fly in his first Quidditch match. Do you think it’s going to go alright?” she asked, winking at her sister and pretending for her own sake that poor Syd could react. As she focused on the words before her, she heard a knock on the doorframe. Looking up, she offered her broadest and most forced smile to her mother. “Hey, Mom, we’re managing just fine,” she said, wishing that Syd could reply and it wasn’t just the droning of her machines.

“I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” she said, pulling a chair up next to Jennifer. “You’re miserable.”

“How could anyone be happy? Dr. Singal says that she’s stable in the coma and she might recover, but he doesn’t know when or for certain.” Jennifer halted for a minute to take in a few deep breaths. It got harder as each day passed to keep her voice level and her smiley face up for her mother. “I just feel so awful.”

Her mother leaned over and swept Syd’s bangs back from her face. “No, I understand all of that more than you could ever know.”

“And that’s why I’m messing up even now. I should be handling the tough stuff so you don’t have to.”

Her mom frowned back at her. “Oh, Jenny, you don’t really always feel that, do you?”

She stiffened, not wanting to reveal too much, but she was also beyond exhausted. She just wanted to crawl into her bed and cry. Jennifer had spent weeks trying to be strong, and she couldn’t do it any longer. Maybe, in a way, she’d been strong since Syd was just a baby and her dad had left. It was too heavy a burden to carry any longer.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “It’s just that I feel all the time like you and Syd are my responsibility. I feel like since Dad left, I have to fix it.”

“You don’t have to fix
anything
. Sweetie,” her mother said, leaning closer and stroking her cheek, “don’t you understand that I have to take care of you?”

“But it’s just us and Dad left and Sydney was sick, and we all had to do the best we could. I just knew you were so upset for so long and working three jobs. Someone had to help.”

“And you did. You’ve always been my good girl, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“It just feels,” Jennifer started, her voice thick with emotion, “like everything gets pulled out from under us. You can’t trust guys. Dustin was a cheater and so was Dad. You can only rely on yourself, and I have to help you the best I can.”

Her mom squeezed her shoulder. “No, honey. Sure, we help each other, but you never have to take care of me. You never have to feel like you’re the mom. We’re a team.”

“I can try, but I just want you to be happy.”

“But if you make yourself miserable and exhausted, then I’m not happy. Please, I can see the smile you’re trying to force for me. It’s okay to feel how you feel, to be scared for Sydney. I am too. But you don’t have to take the lead again. You don’t. And you’re wrong.”

“I am?”

“Yes, because not every man is untrustworthy. I know that you and Bahan had a fight, but he dotes on Sydney even now. He’s a good man. I…before Sydney got sick, I met a man out doing some errands in Frankfort. James and I have been dating a bit and exchanging texts. He’s sent me a card every few days I’ve been in New York.”

“You still date?”

“I went back to it once Sydney went to college. Some have been good and some bad, but there’s always that chance the next guy will be as thoughtful and kind as James. There are men as honorable as Bahan. You don’t close your heart off because off the bad ones. You can’t,” her mother said, emphasizing her point by sweeping Jennifer into a big hug.

That was the final straw for her.

The tears fell freely down her face and she felt her body shake as she sobbed. Her mom took her tightly and rocked her as she cried, letting out decades of frustration and not just about her struggle to stay stoic or the men who’d hurt her. No, it was more than that. It was all the worry for her sister and all the hatred she had turned inwards on herself, for her inability to love Bahan the right way. For being so stupid and cold as to push him away when her family should have been coming together to support each other.

“Shh, sweetheart, just let it out.”

“But Sydney…and then I shoved Bahan away. I…what if he never forgives me?”

There was a loud beeping sound and both women turned around. The doctor rushed in with the nursing team and Jennifer’s heart felt as if it might bust through her chest. Her eyes grew wide with disbelief as the doctor pulled the tubes from her sister and helped Sydney as the girl opened her eyes. The nurses held their hands up as her now alert and thriving sister went through a basic battery of neurological tests. When she’d cleared everything and her vitals had been taken twice, the doctor asked to take her mom outside and explain all of the changes, and then the nurses stepped to the corner, giving her and her sister some privacy.

“Are you okay?” she asked, the joy almost impossible to suppress as a genuine smile swept over her face.

“My mouth is dry and I feel weird from the tubes,” her sister admitted. “I just…did I have my surgery already?”

“No, baby,” she said, kissing her sister’s cheek. “Your sugar spiked and you were in a coma. Do you remember?”

“I remember watching cheesy Christmas specials with Rose, and then I felt dizzy. Am I better?”

They both turned to the nurses for clues.

The taller nurse, the one with the Snoopy scrubs, nodded. “The sugar levels are normal and she reacted typically to all neurological tests. We’ll be able to put her back in her slot for the transplant.”

“Great,” she said, hugging her sister tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, but I have to admit I’m double confused.”

“I bet that waking up is hard,” she said.

“No, I started sort of coming out of it by hearing you and Mom talking. What’s going on? How did you push Bahan away?”

“I just…you crashed and I was so worried.”

“But he loves you.”

“He married me to keep his kingdom. You know that.”

“But he’s doing so much to help me anyway, and I saw the way he looked at you at the ceremony. That’s real, sis. Don’t let it go.”

***

“You’re miserable, my son,” his father said, wheezing through his oxygen tubes.

He looked up, startled to see his father rolling into his room with his portable tank on his lap. “Father, you should be resting.”

The old man winked at him. “My son, soon I will be able to do nothing but rest. I’d like to be able to do some good works before my time.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, stepping away from his desk. Who cared what the markets were doing when his father was awake and up to talking? “You have time yet.”

“Perhaps,” he said, wheezing a bit. “Or my specialists may yet be right about my COPD. My point is that you’ve been miserable for weeks, ever since you came back from Paris without your blushing bride.”

Bahan gritted his teeth and tried to push away his hurt and frustration with Jennifer. “She didn’t feel like she wanted to come back with me. In fact, she was quite vocal about it.”

“Yet you dutifully check on her sister’s progress more than daily.”

“How did you know?”

His father smiled and shrugged. “I have my little birdies as well, Bahan. My question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“She promised to stay married to me long enough to keep the kingdom intact.”

“I don’t give a toss about the kingdom,” his father said.

Bahan frowned. All of this had only started to keep his idiot cousin from ruling Yemen, because he was desperate to preserve his father’s legacy. How could the old ruler say now that it didn’t even matter? “But the country…”

“I love our country, and I would loathe seeing my brother’s foolish offspring rule it. However, that doesn’t matter nearly as much to me as making sure my sons will be alright after I’m gone. I know that Fareed is strong.”