Bloody Jasmine, James thought, making her mischief from the grave.
He handed Leila their baby and he watched as Leila gazed upon her with so much love and he saw, too, the flicker of confusion, for she had once been that small.
‘Are you sure that you don’t want me to let your parents know? I don’t mind,’ James offered—he was the gatekeeper to her heart and would not let her be hurt again. ‘I can practise my Arabic,’ James said as he cleared the back of his throat, and Leila laughed, but with affection.
‘No.’ Her moment of weakness just after the birth had long since faded. ‘I don’t want them near her, ever. I will not let them poison her. They can read it in the press if they choose to, or Zayn can tell them. Really, James, I don’t care if they know or if they don’t. I have my family and that is you and her.’
She loved him so much and she was not scared to love him now.
Their love was real, it existed, and he showed her that each day.
‘We need a name,’ James said.
‘I’ve already chosen it.’
‘Well, that’s the sort of thing that might merit a discussion,’ James hastily said, and sat on the bed. ‘It’s for both parents to decide.’
‘Please let me have the name I want for her, James. It would mean so much to me and you know that I would have chosen it after careful thought.’
James took a deep breath and looked at Leila, who had just given him the greatest gift of his life, and really, how could he say no to her for something she really wanted? ‘Sure.’ He looked at his daughter and was determined to smile and say, ‘How beautiful, how perfect,’ when Leila said she wanted the baby to be called Jasmine...
‘Aqiba,’ Leila said.
‘Aqiba?’ James repeated, and she watched as a very real smile spread across his lips as he worked out the translation.
‘Consequence,’ Leila said.
No, James thought, a night, such as the one they had shared, could not be without consequence.
James looked at his daughter and said her name. ‘Aqiba.’
Their very beautiful consequence.