Royally Unexpected 2: An Accidental Pregnancy Collection (Surprise Baby Stories)

by Lilian Monroe

  As soon as we land, a car is waiting to drive us to the doctor’s pavilion near the palace. Cara puts a hand on her stomach, sucking in a breath through her teeth.

  “You haven’t been to see a doctor since you were here?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No one even knows about the pregnancy except you, the royal doctor, and Cathy.”

  When we pull up outside the doctor’s office, we’re ushered inside immediately. We’re taken to the same office as before, and the doctor enters a minute later. He bows to both me and Cara before sitting at his computer and bringing up Cara’s file.

  “Now, Ms. Shoal, you haven’t had a checkup since our initial visit, is that right?”

  “That’s right. Theo—uh, His Majesty—insisted I come straight here.”

  The doctor glances at me, and I think I see a hint of approval in his gaze. He nods, tapping a few notes on his computer. “Looks like it’s been about seven weeks since the time of conception. It’s time to check on this baby. Have you ever had an ultrasound before, Ms. Shoal?”

  Cara shakes her head. For the next few minutes, the doctor explains the process before setting Cara up on a bed. He squeezes some clear gel onto her abdomen before placing a wand on her belly.

  Cara’s eyes shine, and all I can think about is how badly I want to make her my wife. Visions of a child or three running around the palace grounds with us flood my mind. Cara could teach them to swim, and I’m sure Dante would have them on a computer as soon as they could sit still. They’ll be drowned in love from everyone around.

  If it’s a girl, I know my father will melt. He won’t be able to resist a little baby girl. Hell—neither will I.

  Excitement and pure, white-hot terror flood through me as the doctor stares at the screen. Fatherhood is a much bigger responsibility than wearing the Crown, but it fills me with so much joy, it’s almost indescribable. I hold Cara’s hand as if it’s the one thing keeping me grounded on earth. If I let go, I might float away into fatherly bliss.

  Then, the doctor grunts. His brows draw together, and he slides the transducer over Cara’s stomach again.

  “Hmm,” he says, as if that’ll help anything.

  “What?” My voice is hard. My heart thumps.

  “Nothing to worry about just yet,” the doctor says, putting the wand down and calling a nurse. “We’ll take a few blood tests and check back in two days.”

  “Is something wrong?” Cara’s eyes have gone from soft happiness to hard, cold fear.

  “Usually, at seven weeks, I’d be able to see the embryo via ultrasound. It’s unusual not to see it, but we’ll run some more tests to make sure everything is normal.” He smiles at the two of us, but if he thinks it’ll soothe my nerves, he’s wrong.

  A nurse comes in and helps Cara clean up. I pace the room and the doctor writes notes.

  Fantasies of my future children start to crumble before my very eyes. As much as the doctor smiles, I can tell by the deep lines in his forehead and the curve in his shoulder that he’s not telling us everything.

  He’s worried, and so am I. My happiness with Cara is hanging in the balance, and I already know something’s wrong.

  28

  Cara

  Ectopic pregnancy.

  I’d never heard those two words before, but now they play on repeat in my brain. There’s no room for words, or sentences, or hope, because the only thing I can think about are those two ugly words. Over, and over, and over again.

  I took a blood test after my ultrasound, and then another one two days later. That confirmed it.

  My pregnancy is non-viable.

  Is that language supposed to make it easier? Non-viable. Saying it that way is cold. Clinical.

  Completely fucking devastating.

  There’s no room for grief between non and viable. There’s no space for me to understand that everything that has given me strength never even existed at all.

  After the doctor confirmed it, he told me I had to have an injection with a drug I couldn’t pronounce. Keeping the pregnancy would be extremely dangerous for me. The egg implanted itself in my Fallopian tube, which could rupture if the embryo grows.

  I have no choice. I’m confused. Hurt. Destroyed.

  I asked for a few days, and the doctor reluctantly agreed. After we got the diagnosis, Theo brought me back to his chambers and sat in a chair, staring at the floor.

  After a while, he took a deep breath. “I’d better delay the wedding preparations,” he’d said, shattering my heart with six words. Then, he left the room, and I’ve been alone ever since.

  Alone with my non-viable ectopic pregnancy, and the baby that will never be.

  Alone with my thoughts that circle around and around and around.

  Alone with the crippling thoughts of what’s to come.

  The injection. The loss.

  Is it possible to lose something you never had? I never had this baby. Not really. But in my mind, it was real. It was the one thing that made my life have purpose. It was the one thing that gave me the courage to tell Theo how I felt. It gave me the freedom to let go of my old dreams, and chase after my new ones.

  Now what do I have left?

  Theo’s been gone for over an hour. I don’t even know if he wants me anymore. Maybe his whole grand romantic gesture—coming to New York to bring me home, telling me he loved me, saying he wanted our baby—it’s all changed now.

  If we’re not having a baby together, does he still want me? Did he only come and bring me back to Argyle out of duty? Maybe the love he felt for me was only because he knew that I was carrying his child, and he didn’t want the controversy to crop up later in his time as King.

  Minutes tick by, and my thoughts become more and more bitter.

  I gave up everything to come back. My place at Juilliard. My independence. My future.

  Now what?

  Theo could turn around and tell me he doesn’t want me anymore, because I’m no longer the mother of his child. I was a problem before. A potential controversy. A scandal waiting to happen.

  Marrying me was a convenient solution.

  What happens when the problem disappears? Does he still want me at all?

  Why. Isn’t. He. Here.

  The pillow is soaked with my tears. My face is swollen and my hair is matted. Everything aches, most of all my heart.

  I stare at the door in Theo’s bedroom, wondering why he left. He wants to delay the wedding. Isn’t that a sign of how he feels? He never wanted me at all. I need him to hold me. To kiss my temple and run his fingers through my hair. I need him to show me that he still cares about me. Still loves me.

  Finally, I pull myself together. If Theo isn’t going to be here with me, I might as well seek out people who care. I need to go home.

  I gather a few of my things in my purse and head out the door. A staff member bows to me when I exit Theo’s chambers.

  “Where’s the King?” I ask.

  The man bows his head again. “I believe he’s in his offices.” He gestures down the hall.

  With every step, my emotions rage and roil within me. I ask a few other members of staff for directions, finally finding my way to a heavy-looking wooden door. A guard stands outside, lifting his arm to stop me.

  “The King asked not to be disturbed.”

  “He’ll want to see me.” I cross my arms.

  “He was very clear, Miss.”

  I resist the urge to stomp my feet. “I promise you, the King will want you to open this door.”

  “I’m following direct orders from the King, Miss Shoal,” the guard says, his face remaining impassive. “No one is to bother His Majesty.”

  I try to force my way back, but the guard very carefully puts his hand on my shoulders to stop me. As hard as I struggle, he doesn’t budge. I try to shout out, but there’s no noise on the other side of the door.

  My shoulders drop when I realize the guard will never let me in.

  Theo is painfully out of reach, locked i
n a study and protected by his staff. I’m out here, in the cold, with nothing but my grief and my pain to keep me warm.

  I turn around, trudging through the hallways toward the garages. Once there, I ask one of the drivers to take me to my parents’ house.

  On the way, I text my sisters, knowing that they’re busy with their own lives and they probably won’t have time for me, either. No one knows I came back. I intended to surprise my family once Theo and I had made preparations.

  The result? I’m alone.

  As usual.

  Yes, I’m wallowing. Allow me that luxury, at least.

  When I get to my parents’ house, I slip through the front door and make my way up the stairs and into my old bedroom. It’s been just over a month since I was here last, and as soon as I cross the threshold, I feel my body start to relax. I collapse onto my bed and curl up in a ball, falling asleep immediately.

  I wake up to the weight of a heavy palm on my shoulder. My father brushes a strand of hair off my face when I open my eyes, smiling softly at me.

  “I didn’t know you were back.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just after seven o’clock in the evening.”

  I’ve been asleep for over three hours. I groan, pulling myself up to sit against my headboard. I rub my eyes, yawning. “I didn’t hear anyone when I came in.”

  My father frowns, staring into my eyes. “Cara, why aren’t you in New York? I thought your classes started a couple of days ago.”

  My lower lip trembles. My eyes mist.

  I won’t be able to contain the tears too long, but where do I start? How can I tell my father about everything that’s happened?

  I’d have to tell him about the baby. About how Theo and I thought we were pretending, until it all became too real. How I realized I didn’t want to be at Juilliard at all—but now that I’m gone, I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.

  In a few short weeks, my whole identity became wrapped up in being a mother. I could feel the life growing inside me. I knew that this was what I was meant to do.

  Now?

  I feel like I was kidding myself. My body rebelled against me. I failed.

  In the process, I got my heart broken and I threw away my chance to be at Juilliard. I successfully ruined every good thing that ever happened to me.

  How wonderful. Inspiring. I should write a self-help book. I’m sure my father would approve.

  My father swings his legs onto the bed and leans against the headboard beside me. We sit in silence for a few moments until he takes a deep breath.

  “My parents didn’t want me to be a swimmer.”

  I turn to look at him. I never met my grandparents, and Dad never really spoke about them much. “No?” I ask, holding back my tears.

  My father shakes his head, scoffing. “No. They wanted me to be a doctor, but I don’t know my ass from my elbow. I kept failing my biology classes because I was focusing all my time and energy at the pool. It wasn’t until I qualified for the Olympics that they stopped complaining and started acknowledging that I had talent.”

  I frown. My father has always been a swimmer. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s been a swimmer. Not just ‘a’ swimmer. The swimmer. He’s the face of swimming in Argyle. It’s his whole life. His business. His identity.

  My father lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “When I saw that letter from Juilliard, I knew I was doing the same thing to you that my parents had done to me. I was pushing you toward what I wanted you to do, not what you wanted. As soon as I saw that you’d applied to music school, I knew I had to let you go.”

  My bottom lip trembles, and I can’t speak. My throat is too tight.

  “Why are you here, Cara?” my father asks gently, nudging me with his huge shoulder. “Why aren’t you chasing your dreams?”

  I’m afraid to inhale too deeply, because it might turn into a sob. I just take a shaky, shallow breath and then shrug. “Things changed, and I realized I didn’t want to be studying there. I don’t know what I want now.”

  “Was it because it was more difficult than you anticipated?”

  “It’s because I see myself in the people around me. I couldn’t relate to anyone. I felt like there was something more important for me to do.”

  He lets out a long sigh. “You’re in love with King Theo.”

  I turn my head to stare at my father, who chuckles. He shakes his head, sighing. “How does the King feel about you?”

  Breathing is still hard. My tears try their best to break past my defenses, but I manage to hold them back for a few more seconds. “Well, I thought he loved me back, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “No? Because I am. The man loves you.”

  “How could you possibly know that, Dad?”

  “I saw it in his face when I told him you’d been accepted to a music school in New York. Pure devastation written all over his features. I almost felt sorry for him, but I thought you wanted to be up there.”

  “I did, I think. But it was for all the wrong reasons.”

  My father sighs. “What do you want now?”

  I stare at my stomach, and familiar, ugly words swirl into my head. Non-viable. Ectopic.

  My father lifts his arm and puts it around my shoulders. He leans his head against mine, squeezing me close. “If that man knows what’s good for him, he’ll be right here begging you to be with him and have all his children.”

  And there it is. The sentence that finally makes me burst into tears. Snorting sobs explode out of me as tears flow down my cheeks. Unstoppable. Like a dam bursting, letting the floodwaters gush through.

  My father freezes. “Cara? What is it? What did I say?”

  I shake my head, wheezing and sobbing and crying so hard I can’t see straight. I lean into my father’s chest, squeezing my eyes shut in the hope that it’ll stop the flow of tears pouring from my eyes. It doesn’t help. They keep coming and coming as my father holds me close, saying soft words and stroking my hair until I quiet down.

  Finally, I sniffle and stop.

  “What’s wrong, Cara?” my father says softly. “Tell me.”

  29

  Theo

  I hang up the phone when a commotion starts outside my office door. At least two people shout, and someone manages to bang on the door.

  Then, I hear scuffling, and the sound of a very large body landing on the floor.

  My head drops. I can’t deal with this right now. I’ve just been on the phone to the staff at the Arlian villa to get it prepared for Cara and me to go. I want to give Cara some time to recover after the doctor gives her the injection, and give us some time alone, away from the public eye.

  I need to delay the wedding, which we were rushing to have before the baby started showing. Now, we have time.

  And we need to mourn. Preferably together, in private.

  I shake my head, not wanting to let my thoughts take me down that dark path. As soon as the doctor told us about the ectopic pregnancy, I’ve felt like my heart is held together with nothing more than old Scotch tape. A gust of wind could shatter it into a million pieces.

  So, I’ve been doing what I do best. I work. I take care of my responsibilities. I do what needs to be done, if only to stop my mind from spinning back to the visions of the baby that I’ll never hold in my arms.

  My eyes mist, but I’m pulled from my thoughts by another thump outside my door. Someone grunts, and a female voice yells. It’s hard to hear words through the thick, sound-proof door.

  “Don’t come out, Your Majesty,” a guard calls out through the intercom. “Stay inside. We have the suspect under control.”

  I frown, immediately getting up. When I open my office door, a mammoth of a man is pinned to the ground by three men. Just beyond, another man has his arms around Cara, holding her back.

  “Let go of her,” I command. The man drops his arms, and Cara stumbles forward.

  On the ground, the three guards struggle as the big man bucks. He manages to f
ree one arm, flinging one of the guards across the hallway. The guard slams into the wall with an oomph. Plaster crumbles around him.

  The other guards shout. One of them presses his knee into the man’s neck. Cara screams.

  “That’s my father!” she cries out. “Get off him!”

  In a flash, my hands are on the guards. I pull the guard off Tristan Shoal, letting him stumble to the ground behind me. The other guard gets up, taking a step back. His face is painted in shock.

  “We were only trying to help, Your Majesty. These two came barreling in, and—”

  “And what?” I ask, helping Tristan to his feet.

  Not a great entrance for my future father-in-law. He towers over me by a foot, glaring down at everyone around. He bows his head ever so slightly in my direction, his nostrils flaring as anger flows off him in waves.

  Cara goes to her father, putting a hand on his arm. “See? Didn’t I tell you this was a bad idea? Dad, come on. Let’s go home.”

  “The only bad idea is this sorry excuse of a King turning his back on you,” Tristan spits, snarling at me.

  “What’s going on here?” I ask, holding out my hands. “What do you mean, turning my back on Cara?”

  The guards have picked themselves off the ground. Three more guards come jogging around the corner, hands on their holsters. I hold up a hand, stopping them.

  “Your Majesty, we apprehended these two as they—”

  “Apprehended?” I interject. “Do you have any idea who these two are?”

  “They are intruders, Your Maj—”

  “Stop.” I hold up my hand. “Leave us.” I turn to Cara and Tristan, motioning to my office. “Please.”

  “I’d like to stay here, if it suits you, Your Majesty.” Tristan spits out my title, sneering as he says it. “I’d like a few witnesses to hear what I have to say.”

  “Dad.” Cara steps forward. She puts a hand on her father’s chest, shaking her head. “Stop it. This isn’t your fight.”

  “What fight?”

  “This piece of shit—” Tristan motions at me, and my guards tense. One of them steps forward until I stop him with a look.