Chapter 27
Jemma had no idea what to say.
Jasper—the traitor—had promised minutes ago not to leave her alone with Saif. And yet here she was, standing awkwardly in the middle of her tiny apartment while her ex-lover cradled their daughter like he belonged there.
Technically, Jasper hadn’t really left her alone. Jayla was still in the room, babbling and blinking up at Saif with fascination. But Jasper had known what she meant. And he’d bailed anyway. Which made him a liar and a traitor.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked, her voice thinner than she’d intended. Her hands fluttered to her sides, uncertain, then crossed in front of her as she shifted her weight. Her lips still tingled from the kiss Saif had left her with earlier—and that only made everything worse.
Saif looked up from Jayla, his dark eyes scanning her face before glancing slowly around the cramped space. His expression didn’t change, but she saw it—the subtle flicker of disapproval. He tried to hide it, but she knew him too well.
Whatever. It wasn’t his problem.
He stepped inside, moving with quiet confidence, and she shut the door behind him.
The scent of warm cheesesteaks filled the apartment, rich and heavy. Jemma’s stomach churned—not from hunger, but from nerves—and she retreated into the kitchen. Peeking into the oversized paper bag, she blinked in disbelief.
“Why did you get so many sandwiches?” she asked, frowning. Mentally, she calculated what the spread must have cost—and winced. That meal was more than her entire weekly grocery budget.
Saif’s response came without hesitation. “Because you and Jasper are too thin.”
She looked up, startled.
His gaze was steady. “I suspect Jasper’s hungry most of the time but doesn’t say so. He knows money is tight. He wears bulky clothes to hide how much weight he’s lost.”
Jemma’s mouth parted slightly. She glanced instinctively toward the hallway, heart squeezing. Jasper had said he was fine. Repeatedly. And she’d wanted to believe him.
“He’s...?” she began.
“He hasn’t complained. I know,” Saif said softly. “Because he’s a good kid.” He adjusted Jayla, settling her into the crook of his arm. “But I remember what it was like to grow fast. He’s probably starving all the time.”
He glanced back toward the kitchen. “Four of those sandwiches are for him.”
Jemma stared at the bag again, her throat tightening. She’d suspected it—seen the signs—but hadn’t wanted to push. Hadn’t wanted to make Jasper feel like a burden.
Frustration and guilt flared in her chest.
Without saying more, she grabbed two sandwiches and carried them into the living room. There wasn’t space for a dining table, so the couch doubled as their eating area. She set the food down carefully.
“You and Jasper should move in with me.”
Jemma froze.
She turned slowly, sandwich still half-wrapped in her hands. “I’m sorry—what?”
“You heard me,” Saif said, as casually as if he were suggesting they go out for coffee. His eyes flicked around the room again, this time with deliberate intent. “All three of you should come live with me.”
She opened her mouth, but he continued.
“You’re going to after the wedding anyway, so you might as well start now.” He took one of the sandwiches, still holding Jayla with practiced ease. “My family is already on their way. They’ll be here Friday.”
Jemma blinked. “Friday?”
“Yes. That should give you enough time to get ready.”
“Ready?”
“For the wedding.”
He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and then looked up at her as if this were a perfectly normal conversation.
“It’s Monday,” he said. “So that gives you four days. You don’t need to bring anything from here but your clothes.”
Jemma stared at him, utterly overwhelmed. Her heart pounded, her ears ringing.
Wedding? Moving in? His family is coming?
Wait. No. He hadn’t said his parents. He said his family.
Her mind went blank for a second. Saif was the nephew of Sheik Khal. Surely not—surely that man wasn’t flying to the U.S. for a wedding on four days’ notice.
Was he?
She shook her head, trying to clear the panic.
“I can’t marry you,” she whispered.
From down the hallway came Jasper’s muffled—but far too enthusiastic—voice: “Yes, she can!”
Jemma threw a glare at the wall, though it did nothing to dim her brother’s enthusiasm.
“I can’t,” she repeated, louder this time, turning back to Saif.
“Why not?” he asked, entirely unfazed. He took another bite, glancing at the cheesesteak in admiration. “These are amazing. What’s the name of the other place? Pat’s competitor?”
“Geno’s,” Jemma answered automatically, still reeling from everything he’d just said. “And Saif, I can’t—”
“What’s the difference in the cheesesteaks?” he asked, as if they were having a casual lunch instead of a life-altering conversation.
“They’re both good,” she replied, frustrated, then closed her eyes for a second to gather her thoughts and force the conversation back on track. “But that’s not the point—”
“This one’s really good,” Saif said, taking another thoughtful bite. He tilted his head slightly, as if studying the ingredients. “But it’s made with Cheese Whiz. Is that even real cheese?”
“No!” she snapped, her control slipping. “Saif! I can’t marry you this weekend!”
Saif didn’t respond. Instead, he smiled down at Jayla, who was now reaching for the sandwich in his hand, her mouth open, little fingers stretching greedily toward the foil-wrapped prize.
“Not yet, love,” he murmured, his voice suddenly tender, intimate. Jemma stilled, startled by the softness. “But when you’re older, we’ll get both Pat’s and Geno’s and compare them properly. A very serious scientific endeavor.”
“Saif, you’re not listening to me,” Jemma grumbled through gritted teeth, barely resisting the urge to throw her sandwich across the room.
He looked up calmly. “Of course I’m listening to you, habibi. But you haven’t given me a better alternative to my suggestion.”
She gaped at him. “So our only option is to get married and live happily ever after?”
“Yep,” he said, completely unfazed by her sarcasm as he gently smoothed Jayla’s soft hair. “Your momma’s a very smart woman.”
“Saif!” she shouted, the sandwich landing in her lap with a defeated thud. “This isn’t funny!”
He finally lifted his gaze to hers and winked. “Of course it is. You’re arguing against something that makes perfect sense.”
Before she could launch into another rebuttal, Jasper reappeared in the hallway, eyeing the food.
He stood awkwardly in the doorway, glancing at the tiny kitchen to Saif, then back again. “You really got me more than one?”
“Help yourself,” Saif said with a chuckle, nodding toward the remaining sandwiches.
Jasper grabbed another cheesesteak and a second cup of fries, then retreated, smirking as he disappeared back into his bedroom.
“You’re a traitor!” Jemma called after him.
The only response was the soft snick of his door closing.
Saif leaned forward slightly. “Jemma, I’ve already looked into schools in my neighborhood. I’d like to enroll Jasper in the Monument School. It’s a boarding program for gifted teens.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’ve been reviewing his coursework. His teachers all say he’s bored. He’s outpacing the material. Monument offers the kind of academic challenge he deserves.”
He paused to examine a fry before choosing one. “This isn’t about the wedding. I’d like to sponsor him either way.”
Jemma opened her mouth, but no words came.
A loud thud from behind the wall interrupted her. Her eyes widened—was that... Jasper falling off the bed?
“That’s very generous of you, but—”
Another emphatic thump made her sigh and glance at the wall. “But I’ll discuss it with Jasper when,” she said, raising her voice slightly, “he’s not eavesdropping.”
A rustling noise came from the other side of the wall. She pictured her brother scrambling sheepishly back onto the mattress.
With a deep breath, she turned back to Saif. “But the idea of us getting married is ridiculous.”
“Why?” he asked, unbothered. Then he lifted a hand, palm open in a calming gesture. “Why don’t you eat your dinner first, and I’ll stop shocking you with my suggestions.”
He finished his sandwich, then crumpled up his wrapper and set it aside and turned Jayla around in his lap and settled cross-legged on the floor. “You eat. I’ll play with my daughter and get to know her a bit. Then we’ll talk. Deal?”
Jemma hesitated, then nodded and picked up her sandwich again. She sat on the couch, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
He held Jayla with a natural ease, supporting her neck, guiding her movements as she swatted at his tie and squealed with delight.
He chuckled, adjusting her balance as she shifted her weight.
He didn’t flinch when she grabbed a fistful of his collar—he just leaned into her exploration, patient and grounded.
She watched as he spoke to Jayla in that low, affectionate tone again, narrating her movements like she understood every word.
This wasn’t a man who hated children.
Jemma took another bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly as she watched him stroke Jayla’s hair, adjust her position, and laugh when she gurgled at him. His hands were large, but gentle. Protective. Familiar.
Had she misunderstood?
He had said once—long ago—that he wasn’t ready for kids. But maybe that didn’t mean he’d never wanted them. Maybe it meant he hadn’t trusted himself... back then.
Because right now, it looked like he didn’t just tolerate Jayla—he adored her.
Suddenly, her sandwich didn’t taste like anything. She wrapped up the rest and set it aside.
“Okay,” she said softly, brushing her fingers together. “I’m done.”
“You barely touched that cheesesteak,” Saif commented, his gaze flicking briefly over her figure, lingering just long enough to make her squirm. “You’re too thin, Jemma.”
“I am not,” she shot back, folding her arms tightly. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”