No nightmares.
Just peace.
Margot wakes up with a smile on her face. She grabs my hand and places it on her stomach, grinning from ear to ear.
My eyes widen. I’ve never felt a baby kicking before.
“Whoa.”
“I know,” she laughs. “It’s so crazy.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Sort of like little flutters.” Margot smiles, shaking her head. “I never thought I’d be happy about having a baby like this. I mean, you know, getting pregnant without being married, and with my life being upside down.” She takes a deep breath, glancing at me. “But it feels right.”
“Is it important to you to be married before the baby comes?”
Margot shrugs. “I thought it was before, but now… I don’t know. All that matters is that it’s healthy.”
A proposal is on the tip of my tongue. I’d marry her today, if she let me. But I know it’s not the right time, so I hold back.
Margot stretches her arms above her head, smiling as my eyes drift down her body.
“You make me feel sexy even as my stomach is growing by the day,” Margot says. “I like when you look at me like that.”
“You are sexy,” I answer. “It’s easy to look at you like this.”
When we make love, it feels different. It feels like we’re meant to be here, and meant to be with each other. There are no more barriers between us. By coming with me to Argyle, Margot has shown me that she trusts me and she wants to be with me. By sharing her pregnancy with me, she’s telling me that she sees me as a partner.
When we finally get out of bed, Margot walks to the tall French doors that lead out onto my wide balcony. She opens them, inhaling the scent of the sea air. A soft, warm breeze sweeps through the room, and Margot lets out a sigh.
“It’s so hot here. It’s not even nine o’clock and I’m sweating already.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Hope you like sweaty pregnant women, because that’s what you’re going to get.”
“I like you however you are, so I guess that means I like sweaty pregnant women.”
Margot laughs, shaking her head. She gathers her thick, long, blonde hair into a messy bun on top of her head and fans herself with a hand. “I might have to chop my hair off.”
“And I’d still love you with short hair,” I say. It slips out of me so naturally that I don’t even realize I’ve said the ‘L’ word until Margot’s eyes widen.
“You…”
My heart stutters. I push myself up on the pillows, leaning against the headboard. Staring into Margot’s eyes, I nod. “I love you, Margot.”
The air thickens between us, crackling with energy. Margot stares at me, wordless.
Maybe it’s too soon. I mean, hell, of course it’s too soon. I’ve known the woman, what, a month? A bit more?
I don’t regret saying it, though. I’d say it a thousand times, because it’s the truth. I love Margot LeBlanc. Maybe I’ve loved her since she mistook me for the pool boy, or since I saw her gather her courage and give a perfect interview after having a panic attack.
I’m not sure when it started, but I know it’s the truth.
Margot’s bottom lip trembles. “How?”
“What do you mean, how?” I laugh. “I don’t know how. I just do.”
Margot slides into bed next to me, staring at me with wide eyes.
I grin. “I’ll be honest, that wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping for when I professed my love to you.”
Margot blinks before shaking her head. She grins at me, shrugging. “You said you loved me how I am. Shouldn’t that include unexpected reactions?”
“True.” I wrap my arms around her and tackle her into the pillows. “And it was the truth. I love you, Margot.”
“You do realize that I’m pregnant, right? I’m going to have a baby? You’re ready for that? For a birth? Blood, bodily fluids, maybe even tearing my vagina? Hemorrhoids? It’s not pretty. I don’t even know if I’m ready for it. How can you be ready?”
I can hear the hesitation in her voice, and it makes my chest feel tight. How can I tell her that yes, she’s enough? How can I let her know that my love for her extends to the baby? That I see a future with her that I never even imagined would be possible for me?
“I love you, Margot LeBlanc. Pregnant, sweaty, short- or long-haired. However you are, I love you like I never thought was possible.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Even if your vagina tears and you get hemorrhoids.”
Margot’s eyes mist, and I watch her gulp. She laughs, putting her hands to my face and kissing my lips. “I love you too, Dante. I love you so much it scares the shit out of me.”
“What’s life without a little healthy fear, though, right?”
“If you say so.”
I smile, kissing the woman of my dreams before moving to her growing baby bump and kissing that, too. It’s not just her baby anymore—it’s mine, too, and I intend to be the best father I can possibly be.
In the very depths of my heart, there’s a tremor. A nervousness. A hesitation. I try to ignore it, because it’s the part of me that’s clinging onto the past and all its simplicity. As Margot lays her head against my chest, I inhale the scent of her hair and I know that whatever challenges are coming our way, it’ll be worth it if we’re together.
The only problem is that I don’t yet know what those challenges are going to be, or how much things are just about to change.
22
Margot
Melissa blow-dries my hair. She’s turned me away from the mirror so I can’t see what she’s doing, but based on the bundles of extensions lying on the side table, and the mass of hair at my feet, she’s chopped off a lot of it.
My hair stylist turns off the blow dryer and smiles at me. “You look flippin’ amazing, Margot. You should have done this years ago. It’s edgy, sexy, and so completely perfect.”
“Turn me around already,” I laugh, gripping the edges of the chair.
Melissa spins the chair around, and I gasp. She’s chopped my hair off, leaving only a short, chin-length bob. I touch the ends of my hair, running my fingers through the smooth, short strands.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
“Play with it! Flick your head around! Do you love it?”
I take a deep breath, turning my head from side to side as a smile spreads across my face. “Yeah,” I say, glancing at her in the mirror. “I do, actually.”
“You sound like you doubted my abilities.”
“Never,” I grin. “I just doubted my looks without my hair.”
“Pfft,” Melissa says, waving a hand. “Please. Farcliff’s Sexiest Woman, remember?”
“Not sure how my brand partners will react. Long, blonde hair was written into a lot of my sponsorship contracts.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Melissa says, wrapping her arms around me. “Live your life, Margot. You deserve it. Wear wigs if you have to. Who cares?”
I smile, glancing at myself in the mirror again. It’s only hair. I know it’s only hair. But it feels significant. Having long, blonde hair has been my ‘look’ for my entire life. I’ve always been the blonde bombshell. That’s the image that has made me millions.
And I just chopped it off.
It might just be hair, but getting rid of it makes me feel completely free. Free from Hunter, free from the shackles of Farcliff media, free from the tower of fame where I locked myself for years.
I run my fingers through my hair, marveling at how soft it feels.
“You know,” I say, glancing at Melissa, “now I understand Britney Spears in 2007. This is incredible.”
Melissa laughs. “Except she did it because of a breakdown, and you’re doing it because of a breakthrough.”
When Dante sees me with short hair, his face breaks into a smile and he throws me over his shoulder. I laugh all the way to the bedroom and then fall into bed with him.
We spend the next week in each other’s arms. The weight on my shoulders lifts, and I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. I hadn’t realized how much Hunter’s presence looming over me was affecting me, and how much pressure I was feeling in Farcliff.
Now, in this tropical island paradise, I feel free.
On our eighth morning in Argyle, I wake up with a smile on my face. Dante runs his hand over my stomach and lets out a soft sighs.
“You’re getting sexier by the day, Margot.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “If you say so.”
Before we can do anything else, a knock sounds on the door. My eyebrows arch as we both glance at the closed door.
“Who is it?” Dante calls out.
“It’s me,” my sister’s answers.
I slide out of bed and wrap a housecoat around me before opening the door. Ivy has a huge smile on her face. Her pregnancy is much more obvious than mine—either because she has a smaller body or because she’s having twins. We’re approaching twenty-one weeks, now, and we’re both starting to show a little bit more.
“What’s going on?” I pull the door open wider.
Ivy glances at Dante in bed, her cheeks flushing. She turns her eyes back to me. “Luca and I are getting married.”
My face breaks into a smile as warmth floods through my chest. I throw my arms around my sister. She grunts when I hug her, laughing.
I pull away, taking her left hand in mine and glancing at the rock on her finger. I wiggle my eyebrows, and Ivy laughs.
“My little sister is getting married,” I sigh.
She arches her eyebrows at me. “I mean today, Margot. We’re getting married today.”
“What?”
“I want to be married before the twins come. I know it’s old-fashioned, but it just feels right. Waiting to call Luca my husband is torture, so when he brought it up last week, we decided to just go for it.”
“Today?” I frown.
Ivy laughs, nodding. “Yeah, today.”
My heart thumps as I gulp. I run my fingers through my hair. “What about your friends? Dad? Don’t you want to wait so you can plan the wedding? Won’t the people of Argyle want some big ceremony?”
Ivy shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Georgie and Giselle are flying down this morning. They’ll be here around noon. Dad left us, Margot. I don’t care if he’s not here. Luca said the people of Argyle would understand, and we can have a bigger ceremony next year. King Theo has already agreed.”
My shock dissolves into joy, and I wrap my arms around my sister again. I laugh, squeezing her tight. When I pull away again, my eyes are full of tears and I shake my head.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I know.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“I was wondering…”—Ivy bites her lip—“…if you’d be my maid of honor?”
My heart skips a beat. A lump forms in my throat, and my chest grows tighter. I swallow thickly. “Really?”
“Yeah,” my sister smiles.
“Even after everything that happened? I don’t know if I deserve it, Ivy. What about Georgie or Giselle?”
Ivy takes my hands in hers and gives them a squeeze. “Margot, you’ve done so much for me. You provided for our whole family growing up, and you gave me a platform from which to launch my business. You did the hardest thing in the world by going to therapy and changing your life, and you’ve withstood all the horrible things in the media. You’re my sister, Margot,” Ivy says. “Of course you deserve it.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I shake my head. I don’t feel like I deserve to be by my sister’s side. It’s because of me that she was in the hospital. I kept her as my personal assistant for years, not thinking that she might want to do something different.
Ivy reads my mind. “Margot, stop blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”
“I held you back for so long, Ivy.”
She laughs, kindness emanating from her like a bright light. “You never held me back from anything. I was just too chicken to go out and grab it. Once I did, you had a little wobble as you got used to it, and then you were the most supportive person in the world. I love you, Margot.”
Tears are streaming down my face now, and Ivy hugs me again. She squeezes her arms around me so tight I can’t move, and I let my tears soak into the fabric of her shirt.
“Would you be willing to walk me down the aisle?” Ivy asks.
My eyebrows jump. “Me?”
“I sent word to Father about the wedding, but he’s been sailing for so long, I’m not sure if it’ll reach him in time. Plus, you’ve been more of a parent to me than he has for many years now. I don’t love the idea of a man handing me off to another man like I’m some horse he bought at a fair. I’d much rather have my sister, role model, and closest friend walk me toward the love of my life so we can join our families together.”
I smile, shaking my head. “Only you could make a nice, old tradition seem so patriarchal and wrong.”
“What’s a tradition if it doesn’t mean anything to you? I want my wedding to mean something to me. Having you by my side is a big part of that.”
Emotion chokes my throat. To think that Ivy cares so much about me that she wants me to walk her down the aisle means more than I can say. I thought I’d lost my sister. That we’d drifted apart. That she thought of me as a self-centered, vapid celebrity.
But she doesn’t. I’m her sister, and she’s by my side—forever.
I’m not alone at all. I have so many people around me that care.
I nod, wrapping my arms around her once more. “I’d love to.”
I feel another hand on my back and look up to see Dante. He’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts, but somehow, it doesn’t matter. He hugs Ivy, pulling away with a smile.
“Welcome to the family, Ivy.”
Ivy smiles wider. She nods. “Thanks. Take care of my sister, Your Highness.”
“I intend to.” The Prince slides his arm around my shoulders. I lean into him, letting the tension in my chest ease. Ivy slips out of the door and leaves us alone again.
I release a sigh, wrapping my arms around Dante. He holds me tight, laying a soft kiss in my short hair.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m happy for her. I just wasn’t expecting it all to happen so fast, but I guess it makes sense.”
The Prince pulls away, staring into my eyes. They’re bright and clear, but unreadable. He parts his lips, sliding his tongue out to moisten them, but says nothing.
As we stand there, I can’t help but wonder if he wants to be my husband, and if he, too, is wondering how long it’ll take the two of us to reach that point.
If we ever will.
I slide my arms around his neck, and the Prince leans his forehead against mine. Closing my eyes, I soak up the love that shines from him. He makes me stronger.
In that moment, I realize that I need to tell him the truth about the baby’s father and about my illness. I need to tell Ivy, too, and I need to do it soon.
I’m sick of having secrets. Sick of carrying them on my own. Sick of holding myself back from true happiness with Dante.
Most of all, I’m sick of wondering if he’ll still be there for me if he knows the truth about the baby, and about my Huntington’s disease diagnosis.
It’s my illness that worries me. How can I expect a man to accept me like this? How can I expect him to agree to be with me…and how can I ask him to stick by my side? Being with me means agreeing to a life as a caretaker. It means seeing me deteriorate, and watching my personality change. It means watching me die early.
Doesn’t he deserve better?
When the Prince presses his lips to mine, it feels like he hears my thoughts. It’s like he can sense a shift inside me, and he’s telling me opening up to him is the right thing to do.
I have to tell them the truth, and I will�
�after the wedding.
Today is Ivy’s day.
Tomorrow, I tell Dante the truth.
23
Ivy
Margot, Giselle, and Georgie are staring at me, eyes misty, hands clasped to their chests, smiles splitting their faces open. My heart is overflowing.
“You look incredible, Ivy,” Georgie says, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”
“I know,” I smile, glancing in the mirror. Melissa touches up my hair one last time, her eyes full of tears.
I take a deep breath. “Everything has happened so fast, but it feels right.”
Margot takes a step toward me and squeezes her hands on my shoulders. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want to mess up your hair and makeup.” Her bottom lip trembles, and she shakes her head. “I’m going to start crying.”
“Thank you for being here.” I glance at the twins. “All of you.”
“Of course,” Giselle says, slinging her arm around her twin. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”
“How’s everything at the bakery? Your brothers will be okay for a few days on their own?” I ask.
“Stop thinking about work,” Georgie replies, laughing. “It’s your wedding day. Everything at the bakery is fine. Irving is there full-time, and you know he’s been managing restaurants his whole life.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. A soft knock on the door makes us turn our heads, and my father pokes his head through the door.
“Dad!” My eyebrows jump up.
Margot stiffens.
“Hi, honey,” he says, stepping through the door.
“I didn’t know if you’d gotten our invitation. I thought you were still at sea.”
“Cut my sailing trip short,” he says. “I couldn’t miss my daughter’s wedding!” My father wraps me in a hug, obviously not worried about my hair and makeup.
He turns to Margot, nodding. “Hello.”
“Hi, Dad.” They hug each other awkwardly, and my heart sinks.
Knocked Up by the Wicked Prince: A Secret Baby Romance Page 12
