Sold To The Sheikh: His Indecent Proposal (An Interracial Sheikh Romance Novel) (11 page)

“Let me put on my shoes,”
Mia said. She had originally planned to take her mother to see the
exhibit, but even though Amie Campbell was now getting better care,
it remained impossible to predict if she would be well enough to
face an outing on any given day. Mia was glad that Rami was willing
to go with her, so she wouldn’t have to go on her own, or miss it
entirely. She had no idea if Rami was actually interested in art,
but neither did she want to ask. If she found out that he hated
museums, or Monet, she would feel even more indebted to him for
doing something with her just to keep her mind off of her growing
sense of failure.

EIGHT

Mia fidgeted as she sat in
the waiting room of Dr. Farber’s office. For the third time since
they had decided to pursue IVF, she had two weeks previously gone
to the office, taken off her clothes, and undergone the minor
surgery of having fertilized eggs inserted in her uterus. She and
Rami had agreed that after the way she had fallen to pieces after
the previous negative result, they would ask the doctor give her a
more sensitive test in the office, where they would be able to
discuss the next steps, no matter what the result.

Mia wouldn’t admit it to
Rami, but she was beginning to think that the hormones she was
taking to manipulate her menstrual cycle were making her lose her
mind. She couldn’t stand the guilt as month after month passed
without yielding a single positive result. While she was overjoyed
that neither she nor her mother was in debt anymore, Mia couldn’t
help but think that she was wasting Rami’s time and money; that he
would be better off finding someone who would be able to become
pregnant in a matter of weeks.

“Why haven’t you just
tried to find a wife? Isn’t it possible for you to have like, an
arranged marriage or something?” Mia had asked during one of their
lunches a few weeks prior.

“That is so incredibly
offensive,” Rami had replied, his voice a deadpan. They both
laughed. “I mean, yeah—arranged marriages are a thing, especially
for members of the monarchy…”

“Wait—wait—what?”

Rami shrugged off the
disclosure of being a member of a royal family. “I am so far away
from the crown it’s not even worth mentioning,” he had told her.
“But it is part of the reason my family’s so rich.”

“So are you like, a Shah
or something?”

“I am a prince, thank you
very much. Prince Rami al-Hassan: rich and utterly useless member
of the royal family of the Principality of Al-Andalus.”

“You do realize that if
you’d just told me I was having a royal baby, you could totally
have cut my payments down to like, half of what you’re giving me,”
Mia had joked. Rami rolled his eyes.

“Seriously? You seem way
too sensible to go for the whole starry-eyed ‘Oh my God he’s
royalty’ thing.”

“Oh I totally am,” Mia had
agreed. “But it would make a hell of a story later on. I could tell
everyone I had a royal baby and not tell them which royal family it
was for.”

“And they would never
believe you!”

“They wouldn’t have to, it
would be true,” Mia shrugged. “Besides, if I’m walking around with
a million bucks from it, how can they deny it? Where else would I
have gotten a million bucks?”

“The lottery?”

“Stop poking holes in my
story!” Mia had thrown a rosemary napkin ring at Rami, laughing as
it landed right in the open neck of his button-down
shirt.

Mia started as she heard
the clinking, tinkling noise of the door opening. Looking up, she
saw Rami come into the waiting room of Dr. Farber’s office. He
spotted her and sat down right next to her without even sparing a
glance for anyone else. “Do you only ever wear your nice clothes
when you know you’re going to see me?” Rami asked. Mia
blushed.

“Well you bought them for
me,” she said. “I figured you’d enjoy seeing me in
them.”

“You don’t wear them
otherwise?”

“They’re expensive,” she
pointed out, shrugging. “If I wore them all the time, I’d wear them
out.” Rami laughed.

“You could always buy
yourself some more, you know,” he said. “You told me you’re up to
date on all the bills for you and your mom; I can’t imagine what
you’re doing with the rest of your money.”

“Well I’m putting some of
it into savings,” Mia said. “I buy food, for me and Mom. And I
bought a new couch the other day!”

“How exciting, a new
couch,” Rami chuckled.

“It is exciting,” Mia told
him, pouting slightly. “It’s the first brand-new piece of furniture
I’ve ever bought. And I picked it out myself, without having to
pick from whatever the secondhand store happened to have
in.”

“Okay, okay,” Rami said,
holding up his hands in an admission of defeat. “In that case, I am
very proud of you for doing what most women in their right mind
would have done within three months of making a hundred thousand
dollars a month.”

Mia rolled her eyes and
crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m never telling you anything
again,” she said, pretending to be much more offended than she
actually was. “Belittling my accomplishments. As soon as they get
the baby out of me and you give me my delivery bonus, I am never
speaking to you again, Rami al-Hassan.”

“Ms. Campbell?” came a
voice from the doorway. Mia jumped and glanced at Rami; it was the
moment of truth. She steadied herself and stood, reaching out and
taking the hand that Rami automatically offered her. They walked
through the door into the office proper in silence, and Mia could
feel her heart pounding in her chest as every step brought them
closer to the exam room and Dr. Farber’s office.

Mia could feel her hands
and feet tingling, her arms and legs flashing hot and cold as the
blood rushed through her body. Rami gave her hand a sympathetic
squeeze as they approached the dark, hardwood door of Dr. Farber’s
office. “It’s going to be okay, Mia,” he murmured as they came to a
stop and the medical assistant knocked on the door.

“Come on in,” Dr. Farber
called, her voice muffled by the door. The MA opened the door and
Rami gestured for Mia to enter first. Mia took a deep breath and
walked to the chairs on the other side of the doctor’s desk and sat
down, feeling as if her knees might give out if she had to walk any
further. Rami sat down in the other chair and the assistant closed
the door behind them quietly.

“I have been holding it
for twenty minutes,” Mia said, squeezing her thighs together. “Is
there anything we need to talk about before we get this show on the
road?” Dr. Farber laughed.

“Just that if the test
shows you aren’t pregnant, that is not the end of the world,” she
said. The older woman extended a parcel towards Mia. “It’s
basically like the regular old home pregnancy test. Pee in the cup,
dip the applicator, put the cap back on, and wait.” Mia nodded and
snatched up the packet, standing quickly. She turned and walked out
of the room without looking back, hoping to make it to the bathroom
before her knees gave out underneath her. After three failed
attempts at artificial insemination, and two failed cycles of
in-vitro fertilization, Mia was beginning to feel truly
desperate—and truly guilty. Rami’s comments about how little she
spent the money he paid her had touched close to the
bone.

Mia extracted the plastic
cup from the parcel Dr. Farber had given her and locked the
bathroom door. She was by now so experienced at taking pregnancy
tests that she could confidently get through the process without
spilling anything anywhere. And yet, she found herself feeling
awkward as she went through the usual steps, glancing around the
little bathroom at the generic, unthreatening botanical prints on
the walls. Once she had collected enough urine, Mia put the cup
aside and flushed the toilet.

In truth, Mia hadn’t been
spending the money as wildly as she could have because some part of
her thought that if she couldn’t conceive, she’d want to give as
much of the money as possible back to Rami. She knew she would only
feel more and more terrible if she kept failing, and if she quit
altogether, she would at least be able to have the pride of saying
that she had given him some kind of refund.

After cleaning up, Mia
brought the applicator with her out of the bathroom and hurried
back to the doctor’s private office. “It’s been a minute,” Mia said
as she stepped through the door, closing it firmly behind
her.

“Then we’ve got four
more,” Dr. Farber said.

“Oh God, the hardest four
minutes of my life,” Mia said, setting the capped test applicator
down on the tray that the doctor had provided before sinking down
into her chair. Rami reached out and gave her hand a squeeze, and
Mia tried to take comfort from the gesture.

“Don’t hold your breath,
Mia, you’ll pass out,” Dr. Farber said, smiling encouragingly. Mia
mirrored the woman’s smile weakly, glancing around the little
office.

Rami and Dr. Farber
managed to maintain their small talk while the minutes passed, but
Mia couldn’t force herself to participate. She was too wrapped up
in what the test would reveal. Three times now she’d gone into the
sterile room adjacent to Dr. Farber’s office. Three times she had
waited while the catheter containing the embryos was prepared.
Three times she had lain on the table and gone through the
discomfort of the catheter being inserted while the embryos were
implanted inside of her. If none of the embryos had taken this
time, Mia didn’t know if she could keep doing this; whether or not
Rami was okay with continuing to pay.

The doctor’s alarm beeped,
and Mia couldn’t even bring herself to look at the test. Dr. Farber
picked it up, looked at the result and set the test down. “What
does it say?” Rami asked.

“Unfortunately, it’s a
clear negative,” Dr. Farber said gently. Mia’s head fell forward
and she didn’t even try and stop herself. Tears gathered in her
eyes and she let them fall, dropping down to stain her skirt.
“Mia,” Dr. Farber said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Mia said,
pulling her head back up and sniffing. Dr. Farber extended a box of
Kleenex towards her; Mia snatched two tissues out and wiped her
face, blowing her nose.

“I think it might be time
for you to take a little break, Mia,” the doctor said, keeping her
voice level and calm.

“But—but I don’t want to
just give up,” Mia told Dr. Farber and Rami, more tears flowing
from her eyes in spite of her desire to keep them in.

“We’re not giving up,”
Rami said, reaching out and gently patting her shoulder. “It’s just
a break. These cycles have been tough on you.” Mia blew her nose
again, snatching up another tissue to mop at her face.

“I don’t want you to think
you’ve wasted all this money.”

“It’s not a waste,” Rami
told her firmly. “We’re doing practice runs. What have I told you
about investments?”

“But what if…what if I
can’t conceive at all?”

Dr. Farber cleared her
throat. “I think a break is in order, for a month or two at least.
Once your system is clear of all the hormones and you’ve had a
chance to rest up, we can look at some ways to optimize your IVF,”
Dr. Farber said. “Even if you’re perfectly healthy, even if you
could normally conceive just fine naturally, it can be very
difficult to make IVF happen.” Mia swallowed the lump she could
feel in her throat and nodded.

“Of course I’ll keep
paying you—this break is part of the process,” Rami said. Mia shook
her head quickly.

“No—no, if I’m taking a
break, I can live off of what you’ve already given me. I’d feel
terrible taking your money while I wasn’t really doing
anything.”

“Well, let’s compromise,
then. At least let me pay you for the month,” Rami said. Mia
sighed.

“I know you’re going to
insist and I’m so tired I can’t argue,” she said. “I just feel so
terrible, like I’ve wasted everyone’s time.”

“
Not at all, Mia, you’ve
put in so much effort, and I really am grateful,” Rami said, giving
Mia a little smile.

“Have some water and take a
moment to get yourself together a little bit. I’ll settle things
with Rami and we’ll set a date for you to come back in and begin
the next attempt, okay?” Mia took a deep breath and nodded at the
doctor. She stepped out of the office and went into the hallway,
sitting down and closing her eyes. Grief washed through her in
waves as she thought of all the time, all the money, stress and
effort that had been put into the project of getting her
pregnant—and nothing had come from it.
What if I can never get pregnant on my own, either? Sure I
could adopt, but I wanted—so wanted—to have a baby of my own, too.
I didn’t want to be like my birth parents. I wanted to be a
committed and present mother, from conception onwards.
Tears slipped from beneath her eyelids and Mia
focused on breathing, struggling to regain some of her
composure.