Page 90 of My Turkish Fling
She shook her head very slowly, eyes wide. “I just found out and it didn’t seem like the best timing. I haven’t really processed this. I keep forgetting about it and then it hits me again.”
“How do you forget something like that?”
Aria drew a breath, one hand resting on her chest, the other on her stomach. “By actively blocking it out because it’s too huge and the timing is so terrible. I mean… if I tell him, he’s going to freak out and we’ll have to cancel the party or something. It’ll be a nightmare.”
I frowned. “You’re not giving him enough credit. He loves you. He wants to marry you.”
“I don’t know. He’s still a celebrity. He’s the baby of his family… the way his mom feeds him. Did you see them out there on the deck? She was popping little cakes straight into his mouth. Can you imagine him a dad? It’s crazy!”
“If you don’t think he’s parent material, why would you marry him in the first place?”
Aria buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I don’t know what I’m saying! I’m freaking out.”
“You two need to talk. Stay here, I’ll get him.”
“No! I can’t. I haven’t even found the words to explain it to myself. I feel like it’s all my fault.”
“Why? It takes two.”
“But we found these old condoms…”
I grabbed her shoulders, searching for eye contact. “Breathe, Aria. It’ll be fine. I know it’s not the plan, but life will throw stuff at you, good and bad, and you just have to keep swimming. That’show it works. And this is good stuff, I promise.”
She nodded, her whole body shaking.
“Wait here.” My stomach in knots, I snuck out, heading straight to the deck. The outdoor area looked ready for the party. The turquoise and white garlands hung over three long tables, mixing with the green vines. The white tablecloths, secured with clamps, flapped in the gentle breeze. I found Cem and Emir sitting on the edge of the deck, each holding a bottle of beer. Gru slept on Emir’s lap, snoring loudly. I wanted to trade places with the dog.
I glanced around. “Where’s everyone else?”
“They went to get changed. I’ll go after I finish this.” Emir lifted his beer bottle.
He wore his usual dress pants and charcoal collar shirt with a subtle sheen.
I raised my brow. “What are you changing into, a tux?”
We’d talked about keeping things casual, but I wondered what exactly qualified as casual for my Turkish guests. I’d been in my pale purple dress since breakfast and was only planning to add some lipstick and hairspray before the guests—a few of Aria’s actor friends, her uncle, cousins and Pete arrived.
Emir gave me the briefest of smiles. “Just changing into a fresh shirt. It’s quite warm so I’m happy if we don’t need jackets.”
He gave me a questioning look, one I held for needlessly long before I dumbly repeated, “No jackets.”
This is why I’d been avoiding him for hours. Simply looking into his eyes scattered my thoughts, filling my chest with longing and pain.
And now I was holding onto Aria’s news, my mind playing the mental chess game of cause and effect. What did this mean? How would their parents take it? Where would they live? And most importantly, how did this impact my relationship with Emir?
“Cem, can you come inside for minute?” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but both men swiveled around. Emir frowned.
“What is it?” Cem asked.
“Aria needs help with something.”
“Something?” They repeated in unison.
“It’s a surprise.” I tried to smile.
Cem got up, followed by Emir, who trailed us inside. I stopped him in the living room. “We just need Cem for this, sorry.” My hand lingered on his chest and he leaned forward, enough to seal the connection.
His eyes burned with unsaid words, but I didn’t let myself focus on them.
