The Sheikh's Twin Baby Surprise (4 page)

SIX

A few days passed before Omar was able to find the time for us to take the next step in our adventure together. There seemed to be no end to his royal duties, and he had to deal with the fallout of his mother’s decree, both to the press and the subjects of his country. He hadn’t spoken with his brother since the disastrous birthday dinner, but all the darkness and anger of that night seemed to have faded completely from his mind. Despite dealing with the headache of the work, Omar was in great spirits.

Knowing I had helped make him so happy only made me happier, even if that joy came with a lot of fear attached.

It was late afternoon when Omar called me into the palace’s medical ward, where he had gathered the country’s top OB/GYN physicians for a consultation regarding the little bundle of royal joy we were trying to cook. Since I wasn’t Omar’s queen, the only option left to us was artificial insemination.

Even as a doctor, I was a little nervous about the procedure. It wasn’t something I had ever imagined myself doing, and there was a type of coldness about it I didn’t appreciate. I knew that any number of complications and surprises could happen when doctors tried to replicate the natural reproductive system, but it was what Omar needed, and so I would do it for him.

Being the patient was another thing I wasn’t used to. As if sensing my nervousness, Omar took my hand and helped me gently up onto the examination table. After a few words of encouragement, he politely left the room as one of the doctors sat down to examine me. Once I was dressed, Omar re-joined us so the doctors could explain what would happen next.

“Dr. Green is in perfect reproductive health,” beamed Dr. Issa, a warm, middle-aged woman who was born and raised in Al-Thakri. Omar smiled at me as the doctor continued. “For your needs, we recommend the intrauterine insemination procedure. Assuming your blood tests and physical exams come back with good news, we will then do an analysis of His Highness’ sperm. If he is as healthy as you are, Dr. Green, we won’t need to worry about administering any fertility drugs to assist with the process. You are both at ripe reproductive age.”

Omar and I exchanged a somewhat awkward but excited smile. I had the urge to reach over and grab his hand, but suppressed it. The need to try and make this more comfortable for us both was overwhelming.

“I will need you to track your ovulation cycles,” the doctor said to me. “That way, we may be able to double the insemination procedure each cycle and hopefully get you pregnant much faster. One His Highness’ sample is processed, we will apply the sperm inside you using a catheter and syringe, before using a cervical cap to ensure it remains in place. Your Highness,” she continued, turning to Omar. “We recommend that you be here with Dr. Green during the procedure. She will need to be at her most relaxed, and your presence should help with that.”

Omar looked to me, as if looking for confirmation of what the doctor was saying, and I smiled with a gentle nod.

“That would be great,” I agreed. “Doing this alone would be much harder.”

“You’re not alone,” said Omar, before looking back at Dr. Issa. “Of course I’ll be here—whenever Carrie needs me to be.”

“Are you sure that’s do-able?” I asked him quietly. “I mean, your royal duties… you’re not going to be able to just drop everything for this. If you need me to handle it alone, I can do that. I’ve been on my own in much more stressful situations.”

Omar gave me a sly smile that made my stomach flutter. “This is the most important thing I’ve ever done—and it is my country’s future. Let someone try to stop me from being here for every minute of it.”

I could feel my cheeks flushing and looked away before Omar could notice.

“Do I need to make any lifestyle changes?” I asked the doctors.

“It never hurts to start treating your body better—preparing the den for the cubs, so to speak,” smiled the elderly male doctor to the left. “If you smoke, it’s essential that you quit now. Cutting back on alcohol, making sure you’re exercising and getting a balanced diet; all of these things will help your overall health as well as your chances of conceiving.”

“I’ll pass on orders to the kitchen staff,” nodded Omar. “I’ll have my nutritionist assist with Carrie’s meals. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And I’ll start visiting the palace gym more often,” I added. “Lord knows I pass by it enough; I guess it’s time to start actually going inside.”

The doctors laughed at that.

“Conceiving a child isn’t always easy,” said the elderly doctor. “Don’t be hard on yourself if the process takes some time. The human body is a delicate thing, and each individual has her own needs. There isn’t a magic solution to anything. Just be patient and calm.”

Omar rubbed his hair, a gesture I was realizing came whenever he got a little nervous. “You see… patience is not necessarily a virtue we have time for, doctors. The heir needs to be born before my brother can produce one.”

The doctors exchanged concerned glances.

“Ah yes,” said the elderly doctor. “We did hear about the Queen Regent’s decree.” He shrugged a little helplessly. “We’ll certainly do everything we can to make this process a speedy one, but we aren’t gods. Just make sure you follow our directions closely, and come to us if there is any change that concerns you, even if it seems fickle.”

“I will,” I agreed with a nod. “Having you all so close is a big help.”

“Indeed, and one of us is on duty twenty-four seven,” he said.

Omar looked at me intently. Then, without warning, he reached over and clasped one of my hands in his. The sensation was warm and loving.

“Thank you so much for doing this for me, Carrie,” he said with wet eyes. “Our baby is going to be a wonderful ruler.”

Blushing slightly, I squeezed his hand back. “Yes, he will.”

SEVEN

A few weeks went by after the first insemination procedure without any noticeable change to my body. As the doctors recommended, I made adjustments to my day-to-day life, but it wasn’t looking positive. Omar and I met with his nutritionist and the palace chefs to design a perfectly balanced meal plan for a woman my age looking to get pregnant. Even though I preferred to get my exercise by running from triage to triage, saving lives, I still dragged myself out of bed as the sun rose every morning to head to the palace gym, which included an Olympic-sized swimming pool. The water was much more inviting than a treadmill, so five days a week, I did laps until I was too tired to move.

Even though I appreciated that I was getting more lean and toned, that wasn’t the point. In fact, I needed to get the opposite of lean and toned. I needed to be getting bigger, specifically in the belly region.

As the weeks went by, the frustration began to build for both me and Omar. He would wait eagerly in my private suite while I took pregnancy tests in the bathroom, but every time I came out with the same dejected expression. He would sigh and put his arms on my shoulders—just shy of an actual embrace—and smile at me with hope. “Don’t worry, Carrie,” he would say. “It will happen. The doctors said we should be patient, so let us try harder to be.”

I knew he was more worried than he let on—I could see it in the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way they were growing darker around the edges from losing sleep. Sajid and his wife would be trying every single night, most likely, to get her pregnant again in hopes of beating Omar to the throne. Every day that passed without the process working was another day Omar could lose everything.

It was almost a month later when I finally approached Omar, who was doing paperwork in his incredibly beautiful office. He sensed the frustration on me even before I spoke.

“Is everything all right?” he asked immediately.

I shook my head. “I can’t understand why this isn’t working. I think we should go speak to the OB/GYNs again. There has to be something else we can do.”

Omar shrugged. “Sometimes things just take time. There’s nothing wrong with you, Carrie.”

“That’s not how I feel,” I said glumly, crossing my arms over my chest—even though, deep down, I was feeling more and more inadequate as each day passed.

Worry crossed Omar’s handsome brow. He put down his pen and stood, coming around the desk to put his arms on my shoulders and gaze into my eyes, his expression full of concern.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he repeated, refusing to look away from my gaze. “You are a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman, and I know you are going to give me a wonderful son. I dare say you seem more eager even than me at this point. Are you in such a hurry to be gone from here?” There was pain in his voice when he spoke the last line, even though he capped it off with a soft laugh.

I shook my head immediately. “No,” I promised. “I haven’t thought about leaving again since we agreed to this, actually. All I can think about is… him. Our son.” I put my hands on my stubbornly empty belly. “And about how much this means to you and your future. I don’t think I’ve wanted anything so badly since I was applying to med school.”

Omar’s expression fell into something both happy and sad. He rubbed his hand gently up and down my arm. “You are truly an amazing woman, Carrie. You shouldn’t be worried about my future or happiness, and yet you are. Our son is going to be the luckiest boy in the world to have such a gentle and caring mother.”

I blushed and looked away from him. “Thank you.”

“If you’re worried, we can make an appointment with the doctors today,” he said. “You are the goddess here, bringing forth life into the world. Whatever you need, just ask, and I will deliver it. When do you want to meet with them? Say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

I shrugged. “The sooner the better, really—this afternoon would be ideal. I don’t like carrying all this doom and gloom around with me.”

“I don’t like it, either,” agreed Omar. “This afternoon it is. I’ll call you as soon as I confirm the time.”

“Okay. I’ll be in my suite.”

“I’ll find you there.” He smiled and squeezed my arms.

***

It was just before dinner when we met with the doctors, and in a rambling, breathless rant, I expressed my worries about the procedure not working, begging for some answers. Omar sat next to me the whole time, silent and supportive. The doctors listened intently and didn’t make me feel guilty for being so worried about what was—or wasn’t—happening.

When I was done, I felt like a weight had been lifted from the room. Even as a doctor myself, I was surprised at the intense anxiety that came with trying to conceive a baby.

Dr. Issa stepped forward with a soft smile. “It’s normal for you to be concerned, Dr. Green. After all, this is the start of many more worries you will have—all of them normal. This is part of motherhood.”

“But what can we do?” I asked urgently. “There has to be something else we can try to help this along.”

The doctor was thoughtfully silent before she spoke again. “How is your stress level?”

“Well, bad, obviously,” I half-laughed. “I’m stressing about not being pregnant already most of the time.”

“Certainly, but is there anything else weighing on you that you may not have considered yet? What about your duties to the palace?” she turned to look at Omar.

“The usual,” I said with a shrug. “I give His Highness and the Queen Regent a short exam each week—just the basics. One of the security staff has been ill lately, so I’ve been attending to him. He’s caught whatever bug it is that half of Al-Thakri have endured this spring.”

“Is he stable?”

“Oh, yes. It’s nothing life-threatening.”

“And is there anyone under your care that is in dire straits?”

“No, not at all,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s all very minor, as usual. Why do you ask?”

“Even so,” Dr. Issa said, “work can be a stressful activity that can prevent you from focusing on relaxation. Perhaps you should think about taking some time off and having His Highness hire another doctor to take over for you, at least through the conceiving stage, if not the entire pregnancy.”

I looked at Omar questioningly. We hadn’t talked about me quitting my duties since my decision to stay on and have his baby. But the look on his face was determined, and he was clearly taking Dr. Issa’s words to heart.

“She will take leave,” said Omar without hesitation, nodding at me. “I will hire another physician to be on-call in her stead. I’ll make the arrangements at once.”

“Are you sure?” I said to him in a quiet aside. “I hate the idea of not doing my job. That’s what I came here for, after all.”

“You
are
doing your job,” countered Omar. “You agreed to be the mother of my child. That is your most important job right now. There are other doctors in the city; let them deal with the minor scrapes of my staff.”

I felt a little uncertain about the decision. Being a doctor was all I knew—I hadn’t taken a break from it since I entered med school.

“I’m afraid,” I admitted to him. “Work has been my whole life up to now.”

“Well, now you have a different life,” said Omar softly. “At least for a little while. You deserve a break, Carrie. You’ve been working hard your whole life, saving others in war zones and the like. What could be wrong about taking a few months off to bring your own life into the world?”

“I agree with His Highness,” said Dr. Issa. “Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Green. I’ve heard of your work in Africa. No one would ever doubt your commitment to your duties, or how much you love your work. Everyone deserves a break once in a while.”

I took a deep breath. They were right. If my goal was to give Omar a healthy son who would take the throne one day, then I should do everything I could to make that happen, even if it meant taking a break from work.

“Okay,” I told them finally. “I’ll step down from my position, at least until the baby is born.”

“I think that is wise,” agreed Omar with a smile.

After a few more of my nervous questions, we left the OB/GYN’s and walked casually back toward Omar’s office, where he had more work to attend to.

Outside Omar’s office, Rafiq was in his usual protective spot. He gave me a sly glance when I passed him by. I returned it with a playfully sour one, but he only winked at me knowingly.

“Do you feel better?” asked Omar once we were alone. He poured us both a glass of pure spring water from one of the underground wells on the palace property, iced and garnished with cucumber.

I took a glass from him and nodded. “I do, in fact. Much better. Thank you for indulging my neurotic nature.”

“It’s nothing,” said Omar with a smile. “My only concern is you and your health.”

I blushed and looked away. “It’s not every day a girl gets to hear that from the ruler of a kingdom.”

Omar seemed suddenly nervous. He ran a hand through his thick black curls and cleared his throat. “So I will go about the work of finding you an immediate replacement on the staff.”

“That would be great. Do you need my help in the vetting process?”

“No, no,” laughed Omar. “We’re trying to get you
away
from work, remember?”

I turned red and laughed. “True. I guess I just hate not being able to help.”

“You are helping,” said Omar. “But my staff can handle the transfer. In the meantime, I’ll ask Dr. Issa if she’d be willing to pick up emergency duties in the palace grounds until your replacement is found.”

“That’s a good idea.”

He cleared his throat again, then looked away. “Since you’re no longer under my employ, there’s something else I wanted to ask you, Carrie.”

“Oh?” I asked, fidgeting with the telescope that was stationed by one of the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “What’s that?”

“I wondered if perhaps you would like to go on a date with me.”

I turned so fast, I knocked the telescope off its settings. Omar only laughed.

“You—you what?” I asked. “You want to go on a date? Like… a real date?”

“Yes, a real date.” I was sure I could see a red tint to his beautiful face.

“I… I had no idea you felt that way about me.”

My heart raced as Omar shrugged self-consciously. “It wasn’t exactly an easy topic to approach. You were my employee, after all, and with all this succession business… sometimes having power doesn’t actually provide one with the power he truly needs. The time was never right to ask. But now, I feel, is as good a time as any.”

I was breathless, my head swimming with happiness. “Omar, I would love to go on a date with you.”

He beamed and stood straighter, taking a few steps closer to me. “You would? Carrie, you don’t have to agree to this just because of the baby, you know. I fully understand that it’s not the same.”

“It’s not that,” I promised with a shake of my head. “I’ve wanted to go on a date with you for a while, too.”

Omar beamed. He picked up my hand and planted a sweet, long kiss on it. With the other, he pushed my hair out of my face and caressed my cheek. “I’ll arrange for us to have dinner in the gardens tonight. Would you like that?”

“That sounds perfect,” I whispered.

Omar grinned in a way that made my knees weak. He turned back to his desk for just a moment, rummaging in one of the drawers, until his hand emerged, holding a small velvet box.

“For you,” he said, holding the box out to me. “I got them for you the night after I asked you to carry my heir. I was going to save them for his birthday, but I think you should have them now.”

Stunned, I took the box and opened it gently. A pair of gold and ruby earrings glittered inside, looking very much like the cufflinks I had picked for Omar the night of his mother’s party.

“They remind me of fire—of you,” he added. “I want you to have them.”

“Omar,” I said softly, touching the earrings with my fingertip. “These are so beautiful. No one’s ever given me something like this before.”

“It is the first of many gifts,” he promised. “You’ll find I’m a bit of generous heart that way. I can’t help it.”

I felt like a school girl, the way I smiled back at him. My heart fluttered at the glittering in his eyes as he looked at me.

“Why don’t you head into town? Buy whatever you’d like to wear tonight. And anything else you want, especially for the baby. You should ask my mother about her favorite spa—she swears by its healing powers. Give yourself some pampering. You deserve it.”

“Is that a royal decree?” I teased.

He pursed his lips in a playful smile. “If it must be, yes.”

“Well then, I wouldn’t want to disobey a king.”

“I’m only a sheikh, my dear.”

“Not for long, you aren’t.”