“Yes,” she admitted, giving him a crooked, sheepish smile. “Not that I have anything to be frightened of specifically. Just apprehensive, I guess. I’ve read too many books on what could go wrong and keep worrying what will happen to the baby if. And Miss Ivy—” Wait. Would he...? “Do you want to come into the delivery room with me?”
He stopped moving his hands, but left them resting on her. His brows tugged up in surprise. He parted his lips without speaking, like he didn’t know how to respond. “It didn’t occur to me— Yes, I do,” he asserted firmly before a rare glimmer of uncertainty entered his eyes. He searched hers. “Do you want me to?”
“I do. Very much.” So much it made her head swim. Her hands found their way onto his and held him there. “I didn’t even think about it until just now and...I would feel so much better if I knew you were there to make it all go well. Please come with me.”
“Of course, Fern.” His smile wasn’t steady, but maybe that was her eyes, blurring with relief and joy. “Of course I’ll be there.” A shaky laugh rattled his voice and he sidled his hands up her waist to where she was more Fern than baby, his touch possessive and tender.
This was how it was supposed to be with a man when you were having his baby. She was going to burst, she was so happy right now.
“But aren’t there classes or something?” he asked. “Men are pretty much useless, I suppose. Nothing to know except how to stay out of the way, but I should learn that much, shouldn’t I?”
Fern laughed. “Miss Ivy was going to them with me. But didn’t you go in with your wife when she had Tariq?”
He let his hands fall away, leaving an impression of coolness where his hands had been. “No. She opted for full anesthetic and caesarian section. But her specialist is world-renowned. I’ll—” He pinched his lips into a frustrated line. “I’d like to call him and ensure he can take you on, if you’re cleared to travel.”
It was hard for him to back off a step and not tell her what he would make happen. She probably wouldn’t have been able to hide her smile over how hard that was for him if she hadn’t heard the greater question in his statement. He was asking if she was coming to Q’Amara.
The mere fact that he was leaving the door open for her retreat was incredibly reassuring. She genuinely didn’t think he would risk her life or that of his baby and something else was niggling at her. His wife had opted for surgery. She wanted to know more about that and his marriage in general.
She wanted to know Zafir better.
It was not something that could happen if she was haunting a different house in another country. And she’d seen tonight how the division in his family still affected him. She couldn’t bring herself to do that to him. To their child.
She nodded. “You should call him,” she agreed. “If I can travel, I think it would be good to have the baby there. So there’s no question of citizenship.”
He nodded slowly, with more than agreement. Pride. His smile wrapped her in a blanket of approval. Cupping the side of her face, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “This is going to work, Fern.”
She hoped so. She dearly hoped so.
* * *
Zafir was ready to find his mattress.
Last night had been painful in the best possible way. Without any further debate, Fern had slipped into his bed while he was on the phone, leaving him to find her there.