Forever Princeton Charming

by Love, Frankie

  “She’s married now. Said she’s happy. I think she was just trying to get some game tickets from me.” He chuckles.

  “Sounds like her.”

  “Speaking of crazy,” Tatum says. “I saw Winslow in the news. Shit, I can’t believe she married that old dude, he could be her grandfather.”

  I laugh. “You always did tell it like it is.” Winslow got what she always wanted, a rich, political husband. “It was good hearing from you, Tatum. Come by the house soon. Okay?”

  After I hang up, I close my eyes, listening to the low hum of people talking outside. Spencer must be finished his speech. But I stay here for a few more minutes, breathing through another Braxton Hicks.

  “There you are.” Spencer comes into the room, undoing his tie and the top button of his shirt, he crouches in front of me and takes my foot, starting to massage it. “We should get you home.”

  “I’m okay. I just needed a couple minutes to rest.”

  He holds my shoe in one hand and smirks. “Looks like my Cinderella lost her shoe again.”

  “You’re so corny.”

  He chuckles and places the shoe on my foot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

  “I love you, Mr. Congressman.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  The baby is moving like crazy and I press Spencer’s hand to my belly. “Feel that?”

  “She’s dancing up a storm.”

  “I guess,” I say, grimacing as another Braxton Hicks tightens my belly. “But it’s more than that. It’s like she’s getting ready for something.” I exhale slowly as Spencer massages my neck.

  “Her due date is in two weeks, it makes sense she’s preparing for her entrance.”

  Before I can say anything, there is a pop. And it’s not the sound of a champagne cork celebrating Spencer’s victory.

  It’s my water. Breaking. Thank God we aren’t still up on stage. “Oh my god.”

  “Charlie,” Spencer, says, his expression a mix of excitement and fear. “She’s coming today.”

  “We never seem to celebrate one thing at a time, do we?” I ask, remembering how he proposed at graduation five years ago. “I don’t want this to ruin your big night,” I say, thinking about the auditorium of people here celebrating his win.

  “I love you Charlie Beckett, but that is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said,” he laughs. “Now let me call an ambulance, there is no way in hell I’m letting you get in a car without a medical professional.”

  Jill comes in looking for Spencer, and her mouth drops when she sees the puddle of water on the floor. “Oh my gosh, it’s happening!” She immediately starts barking orders into her headset and I try to concentrate as a contraction moves through me. Okay, apparently I’ve been having real ones all afternoon, not fake ones.

  “You’re going to do great Charlie,” Jill says. “You just focus on that baby. We’ll take care of everything else.”

  * * *

  Every mother says labor is hard and none of them are exaggerating. And only one hour after my water breaks, I’m begging the doctor to give me drugs, but she insists it’s too late.

  “You're almost there, Charlotte, the baby is crowning,” my doctor tells me.

  “Already?” I ask, my body betraying me as another contraction has me screaming for mercy.

  “I can see her head, Charlie. Only a few more pushes,” she says.

  “Can you see her, Spence?” I ask, shaking. “Can you see our baby?”

  His eyes are so bright with love and devotion as he looks at me. “She’s got a lot of hair.”

  “Really?” I ask as another contraction rips through me. Tears stream down my face and I think I might be breaking Spencer’s fingers, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything besides holding a healthy baby in my arms.

  A new song comes onto the speakers and I instantly start crying all over again. Spencer created the most perfect labor playlist, but this one is “Here Comes the Sun.” The song that I consider to be ours. He played it for me on the worst day of my life, the day of Mom’s funeral. But it’s a song with hope, and that’s what I need right now. Because I don’t think I can get through this labor without it.

  “Your dad’s here,” Ava says, entering the hospital room. “Can he come in?”

  I nod, maybe some women are more modest, but if my dad wants to be here when his granddaughter enters the world, I won’t keep him away.

  He comes in and kisses my forehead. “Oh Charlie, you’re doing so good,” he says. “So good.”

  “I can’t do it,” I moan. “It hurts.”

  “You got this,” Ava says. “You do, sweetie.” She is the best sister-in-law in the world and when she tells me I got this, I believe her. “Besides, you need to go fast. Prescott has a pool going in the waiting room on when you’ll deliver and if you do this in the next twenty minutes he loses.”

  “And who wins?” Spencer asks, running a damp rag over my forehead.

  “Me,” the doctor says with a smile.

  The conversation helps me relax for a moment, regain my strength, and when the next contraction comes, I push.

  And then she is here. Not just like that of course, but fast enough for me to get through it without falling apart. She is a writhing naked mess of a perfect human and she is mine. Spencer and I made her and when the doctor places our baby to my chest, I weep. Tears of love and hope and joy. Tears filled with memories of my past and visions of her future and dreams for this life we get to navigate together.

  Spencer is kissing me and kissing her. The room seems to swirl around us for a moment. The doctor and nurses and family disappear and all I see is my daughter and her father.

  “You did it,” he says.

  “We did it,” I say as he kisses me.

  “I’m so proud to be your husband,” he tells me, our foreheads touching, our sweet little one so tiny and soft and perfect.

  We are brought back to the room as my dad cheers in a way only a proud grandpa from Michigan can do. “She’s perfect,” Dad says. “You did so good, kid,” he tells me, getting choked up. The fact that he is here means more than he will ever know.

  “Hello, Heather,” I say, having chosen her name after my mother. I look into my daughter’s eyes. “I’m your mommy.”

  “She needs a tiara,” Spencer says softly. “Our little princess.”

  “I hope she has a fairy tale ending just like us,” I say, looking into Spencer’s eyes.

  He kisses me again, so many emotions swirling in his blue eyes. “We’re not even close to the ending, sweetheart.”

  Epilogue Three

  Three years later...

  Spencer

  “Mo, Mo, Daddy.” Heather claps her chubby toddler hands, demanding I read her another story. She grabs a book “Sis one, pease, Daddy.”

  I’m wrapped around her finger, and she knows it. How could I not be? She has the same hazel eyes as her mother, same pouty lips. She’s as feisty as her mother is too. She dances around the house in her tutu, belting out songs from her favorite cartoons, and when she sings “One Day My Prince Will Come,” Charlie and I melt. Every. Single. Time.

  Heather knows this too and uses it to her advantage.

  As she should.

  “One more, and then bed, alright Princess?”

  “I want ‘Rella,” she says, reaching for her well-worn storybook. “Pease, Daddy?”

  I open up the book and read her the adapted fairy tale of Cinderella. By the time I’m a few pages in, her eyes are closed and she’s sleeping soundly. I close the book and place it on her bedside table, turning off the light. I kiss her nose, her cheeks, her forehead.

  I thought I knew what love was when I met Charlie. Turns out having a baby girl expands a man’s heart all over again.

  I close her door, leaving it slightly ajar, and find Charlie downstairs in the kitchen. She’s pouring hot water into a mug for tea. I know she’s had a long few days. Work has kept me out of town as I’ve been working on
new legislation for policy reform for how we take care of our homeless population. And Charlie has been fundraising tirelessly for a new community center and shelter, which will also house a health care clinic and offer job training.

  Her passion for her community is remarkable, and she was recently listed in the Washington D.C.’s Thirty Under Thirty List - which is pretty incredible in a district like this where accomplished people are everywhere you turn.

  Charlie though, is giving them all a run for their money. God, I love her.

  I wrap my arms around her, kissing her neck.

  She laughs, setting down the kettle. Then she spins around in my arms. “Did she go down okay?”

  I run my hands over my wife’s rounding tummy. “She’s out cold.”

  Charlie bites her lip. “It’s a shame this tea will get cold.” She lifts an eyebrow.

  I pull her closer, my hand cupping her full tits. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I ask, squeezing her perfect ass.

  “Because your wife is experiencing second trimester...” She licks her lips and smiles. “Cravings.”

  “I’m here to serve.” I kiss her, hard. “Your wish is my command.”

  “Well, I wish that you would have your way with me,” she says smiling, running her hand over my slacks, my cock hard as she touches me. God, I need her.

  “You get me so fucking hard, Charlie,” I groan.

  She giggles. “Good. That will serve me well.”

  Moments later we’re in our room, the door closed, and I’m stripping my wife from her sweater and leggings, her panties and bra. God, she’s so fucking perfect. She tugs on my tie, unbuttoning my dress shirt, running her hands over my chest. “You’ve been working out on the road, haven’t you?”

  “You like that?” I ask as she unbuckles my pants, running my hands over her tight nipples. She looks so hot pregnant. When she suggested we try again for another baby, I was more than pleased. She looks so fucking hot knocked up - her tits huge, her skin glowing, her body growing our child. Fuck, it’s hot as hell.

  I take her to bed, my cock hard and thick as she strokes my length. “I missed you,” I tell her. It’s been two days, but it’s two days too long. “Next time you’re coming with me.”

  She smiles, her head on the pillow, her hair longer now and spilling over the sheets. She looks like a goddess. My goddess. “I won’t argue with that.”

  I run my hand over her pussy, she’s wet and I look down at her with need. “You weren’t lying when you told me you had some cravings.”

  She whimpers as I touch her, and my fingers circle her clit, her back arching as she revels in the pleasure.

  “I need you in me,” she whispers. “Now.”

  I enter her, running my hands over her skin, my fingers threading through her hair. God, she smells good, like home. She whimpers beneath me, and I revel in the moment, having her in my arms. Our bodies connect, the way our heart and souls already have. I was her first and she is my forever.

  “I love you, Spencer,” she breathes against me as we both finish, our bodies pulsing and hot and so fucking complete I could cry. God, I love this woman.

  After, I cradle her, my hands on her round belly. “I can’t believe we’re having a boy,” she says as I kiss her bare skin.

  “Our little prince.” I cup her cheek, longing, always longing to have her in my arms. Just like this.

  “We found our happily ever after, didn’t we?” she asks sleepily, her eyes closing and I kiss her softly.

  She’s right, except our fairy tale wasn’t written in a storybook. This love, it was written in our hearts.

  Afterword

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  More from Frankie and C.M.

  If you enjoyed The Princeton Charming series, make sure to check out Frankie & C.M.’s other books. Here is a sneak peek of The Wife Lottery, the first book in the Six Men of Alaska Series.

  Sneek Peek of The Wife Lottery

  Chapter 1

  The room is full of men. Most are tall, all well-built, with masses of muscles and testosterone.

  The rough and rugged men of Alaska.

  I’ve counted seventy-two already and more continue to pile in. Each one here for one thing. Me.

  Well, me and the other two women who have come here of our own free will to find sanctuary in the wild north. The only cost - our lives.

  After tonight, I’ll belong to six of these men.

  And they’ll belong to me.

  I swallow the anxiety that creeps into my throat, not wanting to reveal my apprehension to anyone. I’ve never been one to be ruled by fear. It was one of my father’s greatest frustrations, that he could never bully me into the docile child he wanted.

  But right now, fear presses heavily in my chest, as a hundred what-ifs race through my mind. The scariest - what if choosing a life here, with these strangers, is worse than the life I would have had back home?

  No. That’s impossible. I had to run. If I wanted a taste of freedom of any kind, I had to take this chance.

  I had heard rumors of a land where honorable men lived. So, I escaped by hiding on a cargo ship. I was totally unaware I would be required to exchange my freedom for marriage. To six men, no less.

  I close my eyes, steadying my breath. These men can’t be as horrid as Lawson. A life with him would have been pure hell. At least here, I’m giving myself a chance at a life that has more meaning than simply being a trophy, owned by a man I loathe.

  Still, fear crawls up my throat. There is so much unknown. The Lottery Council explained the situation after I arrived. Nearly dead from exhaustion and a lack of resources on the ship, I’d signed the papers, agreeing to their terms.

  After health and background checks, the men of Alaska are free to purchase lottery tickets, as many as they like, and then add them to the pot for each bride listed.

  Tonight, there are three of us.

  I look over at Kate. She’s an exotic dark-haired beauty, with olive skin and almond-shaped eyes. Both her and Lilah were on the same ship I arrived on. But of all the rumors we’d heard about this place, being part of a wife lottery wasn’t one of them. I’m not sure I would have come if I’d known.

  Kate reaches for my hand clutching it. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll be safe here.”

  I pray she’s right and hope that I’ve done a good enough job covering my tracks getting here.

  Because if they find me….

  I blink rapidly, not wanting to cry on stage with so many men watching me.

  Breathe, Tia.

  “Besides, you’re gorgeous, Tia.” The delicate blonde, Lilah, on my right, looks at me with her wide, innocent blue eyes as she speaks. I didn’t know either of the women before I boarded that cargo ship, but there’s a bond between us, a friendship that gives me strength. “You’re going to make your husbands very happy.”

  I bite hard on my bottom lip. I know there are harems in the world. In Liberia, I hear it is common for one woman to have upwards of twenty husbands. In France, people say women have at least a dozen. But in America, the rules are different. Only the richest men get wives. And only one.

  American men don’t share. But apparently, Alaskan men do.

  And that thought makes me feel faint.

  Back home I was confident in who I was. The daughter of one of the world’s most prestigious scientists. Educated. Well-groomed. I knew exactly how to act. How to lower my eyes and feign submission, despite the wildness that ran through my veins.

  But here? I exhale slowly, I’m so entirely outside of my comfort zone.

  This is not what I expected.

  Six men.

  I knew coming here would mean marrying. But I’d thought I’d have one husband, a man I’d choose and together we would forge some sort of frontier life in the woods. That side by side
we would work to better a world that had been turned upside down. A man who would learn to love me for my mind. That was the dream I followed coming here, the hope that led me to risk everything, even my life.

  I see now that it was a far-fetched fantasy. No one gets that sort of happily ever after.

  Not anymore.

  Not when only ten percent of the world’s population is women.

  We are coveted. Our lives are no longer our own. The freedom women once had, is only a memory.

  Standing on stage, overdressed and underprepared, I still hold out hope, albeit small, that maybe here, things can be different.

  As I glance around, I wonder if fleeing for a better life is all a ruse. Maybe I’m just running into the arms of a new enemy. What if I only traded one prison for another? Or what if my real identity is found out? What if I made a terrible, irreversible choice?

  But at least it was a choice. My choice. The first one I ever really made.

  “Aren’t they handsome,” Kate says beside me, squeezing my hand in hers, black hair tumbling in waves across her bare shoulder. “Can you believe this is really happening. That we’re actually marrying men our own age, and not...” She glances back at the old men sitting behind us, lined up like a jury, and wrinkles her nose. “That.”

  The man Kate had run from, the one she’d been sold to, had been well past sixty. A wealthy banker who bought and sold wives like thoroughbred horses. None of whom, to his violent disappointment, had given him a child. When she’d learned that he had plans to sell her to one of his business partners, Kate fled.

  “Aren’t they positively delicious.” She giggles, dark eyes roaming the room. “They look good enough to eat.”

  I force a smile and nod, unable to share her enthusiasm. She isn’t wrong about their looks. More than a few faces have caught my eye. But they’re still men. And I’ve never known a good, true man in my life.

  Am I so naive to think I would find one now? And not just one honorable man, but six?