No. A cold hand clutched around Zafir’s heart and his pride began to tear down the middle as he realized Fern was going to contradict him. She would not reject his son.
“I would be honored to know you thought of me as your mother, Tariq,” she said with quiet sincerity, and he gave himself a mental shake. Of course she wouldn’t reject the boy. “If your father would like you to introduce me as your mother and call me that in public, then please do. But it would mean more to me if, in private, it was something you chose to do. If...” Fern sent another contrite glance toward him that, Zafir realized, was an apology for challenging his dictate. “If your father doesn’t mind, I’d prefer that you think about it and decide on your own if you’d like to address me as Mother. Until you’re certain, perhaps you could call me Fern?”
And she thought she didn’t know how to get her way, Zafir thought with a quirk of private humor.
“You make a good point,” Zafir allowed, so profoundly relieved it was easy to be magnanimous. He wasn’t used to being gainsaid, but now was as good a time as any to demonstrate to both of them that he would always be willing to take Fern’s opinions into account. “Fern it is, unless you feel differently,” he said to Tariq.
“That’s not what I meant,” Tariq said with an exasperated roll of his eyes. “I meant do I have to say Mama. It’s so babyish. I’d rather call you Mother. I can’t call you by your name. That would be too confusing for my little brother or sister. And disrespectful.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be,” Fern said, pinching her lips together in a poor attempt to suppress a laugh. “Then yes. I would be delighted if you’d call me Mother. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” Tariq said with offhand confidence. “I don’t remember my mother and I like you quite a bit. I was very disappointed when I visited my cousins and you weren’t there,” he declared with a pointed look. Then he transferred his attention to Zafir. “May I call my cousins and tell them Miss Davenport is my mother now?”
“You may text your uncle and ask when would be a good time to have that conversation,” he said. “Then you should get back to class.”
“Will you take over my lessons?” he asked, turning back to Fern.
“I think I will be busy with the baby very soon, but I will always take an interest in your studies. Please ask your tutor if I could sit in sometimes, particularly for language or history, so I can learn, too.”
Tariq nodded and started toward the wide archway of the main passage back to the palace. He checked himself and came back to give Fern’s expanded waist a befuddled search, arms half-raised for an embrace.
“Oh, um—” Fern bent awkwardly, accepting Zafir’s quick grasp of her hand so she didn’t lose her balance. Tariq’s arms went around her neck and he landed a quick kiss on her cheek. She closed her eyes, mouth pressing into a smile of deeply touched emotion.
“I’m really happy you’re my mother,” Tariq said, making Zafir’s heart swell with pride. “My cousins will be so jealous,” he added with an impish grin and raced off.
“Oh,” Fern said, placing a hand over her heart. “I didn’t expect that.”
“The kiss or the part where he treated us like half-wits?”
She laughed, glanced at the marble floor and tucked her hair behind her ear. “The part where he made me feel like we’re a family. I never had that. It means a lot.”