The Sheikh's First Christmas - A Warm and Cozy Christmas Romance (17 page)

“Do you really think you want to do this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

Mia hesitated before replying. “It’ll give me a chance to pay off my mom’s debts and take care of her; to really give her the care she needs. It’s enough money to do that and take time away from work. It’s the best option I have.” Mia took a deep breath. “There are a few things I want to make sure we’re clear on, but it’s really generous of you.”

“Like I said—if you need more than I originally stated, I’m willing to pay.” Mia shook her head; she wasn’t sure Rami would ever understand the value of the money he was throwing around.

“It’s just…there are a few conditions,” Mia said slowly, sitting back on the couch. “I would want to make sure that if—if something happens to me…”

“Nothing will happen to you,” Rami said confidently. “You’ll have the best medical care in the world.”

“Even with the best medical care, women do sometimes…die…having children,” Mia said, pushing aside her own worry on that subject. “And if that did happen to me, I’d hope you would agree to pay my mom for the cost of—of burying me.”

“Of course, I will make sure she receives the full amount of whatever is left,” Rami said. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that, but you’re right to put your own mind at ease.” Mia smiled, relieved that agreed with her condition.

“Also, my mom will have to know what I’m doing. She won’t tell anyone else, and I won’t, but if I suddenly get pregnant and come into a ton of money…” Mia shrugged, looking at herself in the mirror over her entertainment center.

“Right—right, I understand. We wouldn’t want your mother thinking you’ve turned to a life of crime.”

Mia chuckled. “I was going to say prostitution, but that’s technically a crime.” Rami laughed. “Also, you—you’re clear that we’ll be doing this through IVF. You’re not…you don’t expect me to…”

“Oh… No, no, I don’t expect you to suddenly start having sex with me. I have a doctor in mind, one of the best in the field. She will take care of everything for both of us.” Mia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

“Well, in that case… I think that covers everything,” she said, smiling brightly. “When did you want to start? I’ll need some time to take care of things at work…but then, that doesn’t really affect you does it. Oh God, I’m babbling, sorry.” Rami chuckled at the other end of the line.

“You just made a huge decision, Mia, I’d be surprised if you weren’t babbling,” he said, his voice full of warmth.

“Oh—there was one other thing,” Mia said. Her cheeks warmed with a blush as the thought occurred to her. “Why did you ask me to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why me in particular? I’m sure there are lots of other women who would be completely willing, and who wouldn’t have any of the conditions I have—who are probably prettier than I am…” Mia frowned at her reflection.

“I know we don’t know each other very well, but there’s something special about you, Mia. You have this…warmth about you,” Rami said, speaking slowly, thoughtfully. “I noticed it the first time we met. You’re so—open, and kind, and sweet. And you’re much prettier than you seem to think.” Mia’s blush deepened and she felt relieved that Rami couldn’t see her. “I wanted someone who would be…nurturing, I guess. I didn’t want someone who would just take my money and “turn up”, as it were. I thought with you, you would make the baby the top priority; that you’d care about it, and take care of yourself for his or her sake. That’s the kind of start I want for my child.” Mia felt her eyes stinging with tears and bit her bottom lip, taking a slow breath to push the reaction down.

“That’s—thank you. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

“I’m honored that you’re willing to do this for me, Mia. You’re a generous, big-hearted person, and I will owe you a debt for the rest of my life.” Mia smiled, taking another breath and exhaling slowly.

“So…” she said, “how exactly are we going to do this?”

“First, I will need you to meet with my accountant to arrange the first transfer to your account,” Rami said. “Then, when you’re ready, we can book a consultation.” Rami paused for a moment. “How much notice will you need to give the school that you’re planning to go on leave?” Mia considered the question.

“I think I need to give them a month,” she said. “But I can go to appointments and things during that time—especially if you can find someone who’s willing to see me on a weekend.”

“That can definitely be arranged,” Rami said. “Oh I’m so excited! Mia, you have no idea. You’re an angel, really. Thank you so much. I’ll contact my accountant to let him know he needs to meet with you. I’ll tell him to call you, and he should be able to see you after work one day soon.” Mia nodded. She couldn’t quite believe she had made such a momentous decision in such a short time—but now that she had made the choice, she was glad that Rami wasn’t going to put her on hold to wait for a long negotiation or anything else. She wanted to get down to the business of carrying his child as quickly as possible.

FIVE

Mia sat in the waiting room at the OB/GYN Rami had enlisted for the complicated and delicate task of overseeing her pregnancy. She looked around at the other women, men—and a few children—waiting for their own appointments. Rami would be there soon, Mia told herself firmly as her heart fluttered in her chest. She no longer questioned why she felt better when Rami was around, especially for the appointments. At first she had told herself it was because she felt weird being in the waiting room alone, thinking everyone would assume her to be her some kind of unwed mother—which technically, if she successfully became pregnant, she would be.

Thankfully Dr. Farber had put her at ease, making it clear to her that she didn’t regard what Mia was doing as strange in the slightest. In her first meeting with the OB/GYN, the doctor had sat Mia down and said, “Rami has explained to me that you’re a friend, and you’ve done him the honor of agreeing to be the carrier of his child. I think that’s very noble of you—especially considering you could have asked for much more money than you did.”

As she waited for Rami to arrive, Mia tried to tell herself not to be disheartened by the fact that it had been three months and she had yet to become pregnant.
It can take up to a year, Dr. Farber said. Or multiple years.
At lunch after their initial consultation, Rami had told her that he was more than happy to continue paying, no matter how long it took for her to become pregnant. But Mia had set a deadline for herself: if after a year of trying she still hadn’t become pregnant, she would end her contract with Rami. It didn’t seem right to keep taking his money when she wasn’t sure if she would ever conceive at all.

While teaching had been stressful, it at least meant that Mia had plenty to occupy her mind; now that Rami’s payments made it possible for her to spend more time at home, and with her mother, the only things she had to think about were her mother’s illness and the fact that she wasn’t pregnant yet. Mia smiled to herself when she remembered her mother’s reaction to the news that the bills and debts were going to be a thing of the past.

She had gone to her mother’s house as soon as the first payment had deposited in her account. Mia had found her mother asleep on the couch, a faint rattle in her breath—the lingering effects of the pneumonia. “Mom!” Mia had tried to keep her voice quiet enough not to completely startle her, but Amie Campbell had nearly fallen off of the couch anyway.

“Mia, baby,” Amie had said, smiling at the sight of her daughter. “It’s a little early for you to be here, isn’t it? Lord, I should’ve set an alarm.”

“No—no, Mom, you’re fine. I am early, and if anyone can see you in your nightgown it’s me, right?” Mia’s mother had chuckled weakly, sitting up with a struggle. “I have amazing—awesome—just…just great news,” Mia had said.

“Did you win the lottery or something? Tell me!” Mia had taken a deep breath to steady her rushing heart.

“Something like that! Mom, you don’t have to worry about the bills anymore. In fact, I think we can probably take you to that expert in New York, if you want.” Mia had taken another breath. “I’m going to be making a hundred thousand dollars a month for…well, for a while.”

“What?! How are you going to do that, baby girl?” Amie’s confusion deepened into a frown. “Please tell me you’re not escorting or something?”

“No, no, no—no, Mom, I’m not—I’m not doing anything like that,” Mia had said, blushing. “I am going to be a surrogate mother for someone’s child.”

“Whose child?” Mia had worried at her bottom lip slightly.

“A really wealthy man by the name of Rami al-Hassan. He wants to have a baby, and he’s asked me to carry it for him. He’s paying all of the medical costs, and he’s giving me a monthly payment for my trouble.”

“A hundred thousand a month is a lot of trouble,” Amie had said, looking at her daughter dubiously. “And let me guess, you have to conceive ‘naturally’?” Mia’s blush had deepened as she shook her head.

“No, we’re going to do artificial insemination, or IVF. No…sex.” Mia’s mother had smiled slightly, giving her daughter a knowing look.

“Taking the best part out of the situation, eh?” Amie had taken a deep breath then and exhaled, ending on a spasm of coughing. “As long as you’re not doing something you think is shameful, I think it’s a wonderful thing that you’re getting paid to bring a life into this world.”

The door to the OB/GYN office opened and the bells attached to it clattered and chimed. Startled out of her thoughts, Mia looked up to see Rami walk in. He was as well dressed as ever, in a pair of designer jeans, oxford shirt, Ray Bans—which he took off as soon as he was inside—and polished, wingtip shoes. Mia had grown somewhat accustomed to the reaction of the other patients in the room whenever Rami arrived; she was sure that next to him she looked like the ultimate frump, dressed to a much cheaper budget, with no makeup, and her hair pulled back in a bun, ponytail, or braid; they were as mismatched a couple as anyone could have imagined.

“How are you feeling?” Rami sat down in the chair next to her, looking her over quickly. To her relief, Mia didn’t see even a flicker of disapproval in his glance.

“I’m okay. A little nervous,” she replied, smiling slightly. “What if…”

“Nope, don’t go there right now,” Rami said, interrupting her. “We’re going to see what Dr. Farber has to say. Just because it didn’t work one way, doesn’t mean it won’t work another way.”

“I just feel really terrible,” Mia told him. She pitched her voice lower. “If I can’t get pregnant, I hate to keep taking your money.” Rami shrugged.

“It’s an investment cost,” he said, giving her a quick, charming smile. “My dad has had a bunch of investments that didn’t pan out. It happens. Let’s wait until we know for sure that you can’t conceive to start feeling bad, hm?” Mia smiled in spite of her nervousness.

“Okay,” she said, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I promise I won’t start feeling guilty until then.”

“How’s your mother doing?” he asked. Mia’s smile deepened.

“Well, all her bills are cleared,” she said quietly. “We’re working on getting her an appointment with a renowned specialist in New York City.” Rami nodded, smiling broadly.

“If you’re going to New York, then you’ll need some new clothes,” he pointed out, gesturing to her outfit. Mia blushed.

“I can’t—I don’t want to spend the money on something like…”

“Then I am taking you shopping after this appointment,” Rami said firmly, with an air of absolute confidence. “We’ll get lunch and I will make sure you’re properly attired for a trip to New York.”

“Rami—you’re already paying me so much…” Mia felt her cheeks burning as she looked around the room to make sure that no one was listening in. “I don’t want to take more of your money.” Rami shook his head.

“I insist. It’ll barely cost me anything at all, and I want to see you in nicer things.” Rami smiled. “Not that you don’t make these clothes look like they should be on the runway.”

“Oh hush,” Mia said, rolling her eyes.

“Ms. Campbell? Mr. al-Hassan? The doctor will see you now.” Mia stifled a giggle as she stood up. Rami gestured for her to precede him through the door into the office proper, and Mia took a deep breath. Even if she was hesitant to accept Rami’s offer to take her shopping, the conversation had helped distract her from her nervousness. They followed the MA back to Doctor Farber’s private office, and Mia reminded herself that they still had plenty of options.

Dr. Farber was a tall, slim woman with graying blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a slightly hoarse voice from smoking through the first decade of her medical career. She rose as Mia and Rami came in, and Mia admired—not for the first time—the way her white coat looked over her simple but elegant crew-neck tee shirt and tailored slacks. “Good morning,” the doctor said, smiling at them both. “Can you close the door behind them please, Alicia?”

“What’s the news, Doctor?” Rami asked as he sat down.

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve both realized, our first attempts haven’t taken,” Dr. Farber said. “This does happen sometimes, and there’s no one to really blame for it.” Dr. Farber looked at Mia as if she had divined some of the guilty anxiety Mia was feeling. Mia thought that the older woman had probably worked with enough women to predict their reactions before they had them.

“Do you have any idea why it’s not working?” Mia asked, trying to keep her voice level.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work and we don’t know why,” Dr. Farber said. “But your initial fertility tests show you’re both plenty fertile.” Mia suppressed the urge to worry at her bottom lip. “I want to keep things as slow as possible—it’s better that way for both of you, and healthier. But the next step is IVF.”

Mia took a deep breath; when she and Rami had had their first consultation with Dr. Farber, after they’d each done their separate blood tests and other exams, the OB/GYN had said that she wanted to take it as slowly as possible with them; both Mia and Rami were young enough that more aggressive methods of conception were probably unnecessary. Mia’s monthly cycle was fortunately as regular as a train schedule, so for the first month she had just charted her cycle, taking her temperature several times a day, every day, to pinpoint the moment she would ovulate. When the moment came, she had hurried to the doctor’s office, calling ahead to inform the staff that she was ready for her first attempt. Once she was ready, they had put a catheter inside of her and flushed her full of Rami’s semen. It was one of the most awkward, uncomfortable, and strangest experiences of Mia’s life, but she had lived through it; at least it hadn’t exactly hurt.

When the first attempt didn’t take, the doctor suggested that Mia could take some of the milder fertility drugs to increase the number of eggs she was producing. She had done as she was advised, and for two more cycles had gone to the doctor when she was ovulating and experienced the discomfort of having Rami’s sperm flushed into her. Now that neither of the “enhanced” attempts at artificial insemination had taken, Mia had begun to wonder if there was something that the tests had simply failed to take into account. Not for the first time in her life, she wished that she knew
something
about her birth parents; some fraction of their medical history, something that might explain why it was apparently so difficult for her to conceive.

“Now,” Dr. Farber said, jolting Mia out of her thoughts. “IVF is a lot more intensive than regular artificial insemination. I’m going to need you to follow the directions to the letter, Mia, and it would be best if you can make sure you get as much rest as possible.”

“She’s on sabbatical from work,” Rami said. “But her mother is ill, and Mia takes care of her.” Dr. Farber nodded.

“I understand you feel obligated, but if you can afford it, try and see if you can find someone else to help her out for a couple of months,” Dr. Farber suggested. “You need to have as little stress as possible in your life.” Mia shrugged.

“It’s not—it’s really not that big of a deal,” Mia said. “It’s not a major stress…and I think I’d be more stressed if I didn’t take care of her myself.” Dr. Farber hesitated, before nodding.

“If you think it’ll be easier for you this way, that’s understandable” she agreed. “In the mean time, I want you to make sure you’re eating well, and staying as healthy as possible. IVF can put a lot of stress on the body.” Mia pressed her lips together and glanced at Rami, he was nodding along with the doctor’s recommendations.

“Okay,” Mia said, steadying herself. “Let’s go over what that is going to entail.” She took a notebook out of her purse and listened as the OB/GYN began to explain the process, and what Mia would have to do. There would be more intensive tests, more medications to take—medications Mia would have to inject. The idea was less than thrilling, but looking at Rami, remembering how much he was paying her, and how much he wanted this child, Mia pushed aside her misgivings. She had already managed to pay off her mother’s medical bills and her student loan debts in the space of three months.

In another few, she would hopefully be pregnant and able to pay for her mother’s treatments—maybe even put a down payment on a house. For that opportunity, she could handle daily shots, the blood tests and the ultrasounds.
Imagine if you were diabetic,
she thought to herself, writing down the instructions Dr. Farber was giving her.
You’d have to inject yourself and stick yourself with needles every day and no one would be paying you for it—they certainly wouldn’t be paying you a hundred thousand dollars a month.