by Renna Peak
I arch an eyebrow, but say nothing.
We walk to my suite, and he places a chaste kiss on my cheek. “I have some work to attend to, but we should have dinner together this evening—”
“I don’t think I could eat another thing today. I can’t believe how much I ate already this afternoon.”
He gives me another small smile. “Then perhaps we can meet for breakfast—”
“Why don’t you just come in?” I open my door, motioning through it. “I promise, I won’t bite.” I pause for a second before giving him a sly grin. “Hard.”
“That, my love, is exactly what I’m afraid of—”
“Andrew, there is nothing—nothing—that says you can’t come into my room before the wedding.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t know why we agreed to that in the first place.”
“Because…because it will make our wedding night all the more special. And because we both agreed.”
“I know. But I’m pretty sure I can still surprise you.” I lift a suggestive brow. “Don’t think I don’t still have some tricks up my sleeve for our wedding night night.”
He lets out a long breath that almost sounds like a growl. “I do not appreciate the fact that you are the only person on earth who can make me lose control.” He kisses my temple. “And that, my love, is why we’re going to wait until our wedding night to share a bed again.”
I sigh. “Well, that is unfortunate. I suppose I can…take care of myself for a few more weeks.”
He growls again. “Victoria…”
“Andrew.” I can’t help but grin. God, I love seeing him like this—unbuttoned. He’s so stoic most of the time that no one really knows the real him. And I love that he lets himself be real with me. And only with me.
He nudges me inside and we quickly close the door behind us.
He pulls me into his arms, pulling me tightly against him—there’s no doubt he’s feeling just as anxious to share a bed again as I am.
But as soon as he leans in to kiss me, he seems to think better of it, and he pulls away, sliding his hands up to my shoulders to keep me at arm’s length. “We can’t…”
“Well, we certainly can.” I glance over at the bedroom off the small sitting area. “I—”
“What was that?” His expression hardens and he takes another step back before pulling my hands into his. “In the dining room.”
“What was what?” My smile falls—I know what he’s asking, but I’m not sure I can explain it.
“I think you know exactly what I’m asking.” His eyebrows draw together as he frowns. “We should talk about it now. If you’re having second thoughts…”
I shake my head. “It isn’t that. I…I want to marry you more than anything. It’s just…” I break our gaze, looking down at the floor. “I’m not sure I can explain it to you.”
“Try.” He drops my hand, bringing his fingers to my chin to lift my gaze to his. “There is nothing you can say to me that will make me change my mind.”
I search his eyes—I know what he’s saying is true. We’ve been through this so many times before, and I’ve tried so many times to convince him that I’m not fit to stand beside him as a future queen.
My past is still difficult for me to think about. My stomach still twists with guilt at the memories—not that I did anything wrong. I was just so broken back then. And I suppose part of me will always be broken—the part that can’t have children, anyway. Back then, I’d convinced myself that it didn’t matter. That I could have a full life without a child, or that I could adopt if I wanted to someday.
But there is a part of me—a part of me that has grown much louder since the birth of Matthew—that says none of that is true. That I’m not a whole woman because I don’t have the ability to give Andrew the heir he deserves.
And I’m not sure I can explain any of this to him even if I wanted to. I should feel nothing but joy right now—I’m about to marry the man I love, and my best friend just had a beautiful baby boy. But the ugly feelings of jealousy are all I seem to be able to feel, and it’s getting more and more difficult to hide them.
Tears sting at my eyes even admitting that to myself, and I quickly blink them back. I’m not about to feel sorry for myself in front of Andrew—not that he wouldn’t likely understand, but this seems so petty.
He searches my eyes, and I’d swear he can read my thoughts. “What is it?”
I press my lips together. “It’s nothing.”
He narrows his gaze slightly, still looking deeply into my eyes. “You’re lying.”
I take a deep breath, straightening my shoulders. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”
“Then tell me what it is. You’ve promised me, Victoria—we’ve both promised—no more secrets. If something is troubling you, you need to tell me.”
“I’m not about to tell you every little thing that troubles me, Andrew.” I glance down at the floor. “I think there’s a pebble in my shoe, and it’s irritating my foot.”
The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I look up at him again for a long moment. “I’m…” God, I don’t know why this is so difficult. I suppose admitting such things out loud is one of the most difficult things there is. Holding in a feeling like this is so much easier than telling someone else about it, even if that someone is Andrew.
“I don’t…” I huff out a short breath. “I’m jealous. Of them. Of the baby.” I drop his hands. “There. I said it.” Even though the ugly feeling twists again in my chest, I feel lighter somehow. Almost better.
He frowns but nods a few times.
“I want that.” My eyes fill again, and this time, I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop them. “I want to have that. What they have. And I want to give you that. And I know I can’t. And I never can.” Tears start to spill down my cheeks, and I know I’m going to break down in a second.
Andrew says nothing, just pulls me to him and lets me sob against his chest.
After what seems like forever, he finally kisses the top of my head and pulls away just enough to look down into my eyes. “I’ve told you this before, Victoria, and I’ll tell you again every day for the rest of our lives. You are enough. You are more than enough. And I love you. I love you exactly the way you are.”
His words take the edge off my pain, and I lift myself onto my tiptoes to kiss him for a moment. “You have no idea how much I love you.”
He gives me a small smile. “I think I have some idea. Because I can’t even describe how much I love you.”
Leopold
Who knew that not planning a wedding would be just as stressful as planning one?
I run my hand through my hair as I pace back and forth in front of the window, watching the people down in the garden. My mother is speaking with the groundskeeping crew, striding about the lawn and pointing out where things should go on the big day. Though the primary receptions will be held in the palace’s largest ballrooms, we’ll also open the palace gardens to the general public for the day for a secondary, more casual reception, and my mother has decided we should decorate the gardens nearest the palace with twinkling lights that will reflect off the snow and turn the entire place into some sort of winter wonderland. I even heard a rumor that she’s commissioned an ice sculpture or two.
Honestly, I don’t really care about those sorts of details. I’m content to let everyone else make decisions about lights and flowers and colors and all that frilly nonsense. But I’ll admit I regret giving up any sort of responsibility to help—I’d give anything to have something to do right now.
I’ve never felt as helpless or as useless in my life as I have recently. The love of my life just had a baby, my wedding is in two weeks, and yet no one seems to need me for any of it. My mother, Andrew, and Victoria seem to have our upcoming nuptials under control, and as for the baby…I’ve tried to help, truly I have. But it’s suddenly painfully obvious how l
ittle I know about infants. And even less about how to deal with Elle as she adjusts to this new role and deals with the emotional and hormonal changes that come with it. Our conversation about the wedding made that perfectly clear, and it isn’t the only time I’ve felt completely out of my depth.
Even Matthew seems to realize it. The moment he was born, I volunteered to do as much as I could—to take half the middle-of-the-night trips to his bassinet, to watch him whenever I could so that Elle might get some rest, to offer Elle whatever support I could. But Matthew hasn’t taken to me the way he’s taken to Elle. When he’s upset, it’s his mother he wants, not me—in fact, sometimes he screams even louder when I pick him up. He seems to sense that she’s the one with the talent for this. And not only that, but she’s the one with the food—until he gets a little older, there’s not much I can do when he’s screaming for milk in the middle of the night. I’m just…useless.
I hate having nothing to do. But not as much as I hate the fact that I have nothing to do while the people I love are working their asses off, exhausting themselves to make such wonderful things happen.
I turn, looking at the tiny wedding outfit my mother brought us for Matthew. Elle is currently sleeping in our bedroom—with Matthew slumbering in the bassinet just beside the bed—but I know she’s going to love it when she sees it. Right now, though, it’s just a reminder of how much I’m failing. My son is going to have a charming little gown for my wedding, and I had nothing to do with any of it. Apparently my job is just to wait around and let everyone else take care of things.
Go talk to your mother about the wedding, I think, glancing back out the window. I’m sure she’ll have something for you to do. But if I’m running around doing wedding errands, I won’t be here when and if Elle needs me to help with the baby.
Then ask Elle for more responsibility, I tell myself. Ask her what you could do to make this easier for her. But we both know there’s only so much I can contribute at this stage, when Matthew is crying to be fed every three hours. Hovering isn’t going to help things.
Which leaves me exactly where I am—paralyzed and unproductive, twiddling my thumbs and feeling guilty for it.
As if on cue, I hear Matthew begin to whimper in the bedroom. A moment later, his little mewls turn into screams.
Even though I can’t do much, I’m drawn to the bedroom, and when I arrive at the door, Elle is already out of bed and pulling our child into her arms. I go over to her, making sure the pillows are propped up behind her back as she leans back down on the bed.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask her softly as she prepares to feed him.
“I think I’m all right,” she says.
“Water? Tea? Something to eat?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “Unless you know of a way to make Matthew magically sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time.” There’s a smile on her lips, but her eyes are full of exhaustion. It makes my heart ache.
“If we bring in some of the nurses—”
She cuts me off with a sharp shake of her head. “I won’t have other people raising our child. This is my job. It’ll get easier when he’s sleeping longer.”
With a sigh, I sit down on the edge of the bed. “Asking for help doesn’t make you any less of a mother. You’re doing a wonderful job, Elle, but there’s no reason to ignore the resources we—”
“I don’t want anyone else to take care of him,” she says sharply. “Most mothers in the world get by just fine without an army of servants to help them. Besides,” her tone softens considerably as she gazes lovingly down at our breastfeeding son, “I couldn’t bear to put him in someone else’s arms, even for a moment. I don’t ever want to let him go.”
The way she looks at him—with wonder and with overwhelming love—stirs something deep in me. I brush her hair behind her ear.
“You are amazing,” I murmur to her. “Our son couldn’t have asked for a better mother. Nor I a better wife-to-be.” My thumb brushes against the side of her throat. “But please, Elle, let someone help. Let me help.”
“You are helping.” She smiles at me. “Just by being here.”
But that’s not enough. I feel it deep in my gut, and I see it in the exhaustion drawn in every line of her face. She thinks she can do this on her own, but she can’t. And meanwhile I’m as useless as ever, watching as the woman I love suffers out of love for our child.
I have to help her. I don’t know how, not yet anyway, but I can’t stand to go on like this.
Elle leans her head against my shoulder, dozing as Matthew continues to eat.
“Thank you,” she murmurs to me.
But she has nothing to thank me for. Not yet.
Elle
As I nuzzle into Leo’s shoulder, part of me would like nothing more than to hand Matthew off to one of the baby nurses. It seems like it’s been forever since we’ve been alone—let alone slept together. My body still isn’t back to normal, and even if it was, I’m not sure Leo would want anything to do with it now that it’s become a milk-making machine.
He slides his arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. I must start to doze off—I hear him whisper something to me but I can’t really understand what he’s saying.
My eyes flutter open. “Hm?”
He smiles down at me. “It will only be for a few days.”
“What will only be for a few days?”
“My trip.” He looks down at me with an expression I can’t recognize. “I’ll only be gone for a few days.”
“What?” My heart begins to race in my chest. “What are you talking about?”
“I…” His lips turn up into a slight grin. “I guess you were sleeping. You didn’t hear what I said?”
My panic must do something to Matthew—he starts to fuss. It takes me a moment to get him positioned again.
“See? You don’t need me here. The two of you are doing just fine on your own.”
“You can’t…” I press my lips together to try to hide the emotions I can hear in my voice. The last thing I want to do is to start blubbering again, but I’m an emotional wreck. Why can’t Leo see that?
“It will only be for a few days,” he repeats. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
My chin begins to quiver, and I bite my bottom lip to hide it. I suppose I can’t stop him from leaving if that’s really what he wants to do. And why wouldn’t he? I haven’t been able to do much but feed the baby since the birth. And now that Leo’s asked me to marry him—and actually set a date—he’s probably feeling restless. I haven’t been able to give him what he needs. And I certainly don’t look the part of someone fit to be with the playboy prince.
I hate myself, but I start to cry again. I don’t want to feel sorry for myself, and I don’t really want Leo feeling sorry for me, either.
His eyes widen, and he pulls me closer as soon as the tears start to flow. “Elle…”
I sniffle a few times, trying desperately to get hold of my emotions. “I’m sorry. I wish—I wish I could stop with these stupid mood swings.”
He chuckles, kissing the top of my head. “I understand. I spoke with the physician about it—”
“You what?” I glare up at him. “You went behind my back and talked to the doctor?”
“I was worried about you. I told her how you cried over the silliest of things—”
“Go.” I shake my head, trying to pull away from him. “Go on your stupid trip. Sleep with a model or ten. I don’t really give a fuck, Leo.”
He sucks in a breath, and stares at me for a long moment. “Elle—”
“Just go.” I adjust Matthew at my breast and turn away from Leo. “We don’t need to discuss it.”
He pulls his arm from me and stands. He stays at the edge of the bed for a minute before he finally walks to the doorway.
He seems to hesitate there, probably waiting for me to apologize or something.
“I mean it, Leo. Just go. Do what you need to do. Get whatever it is out of y
our system.”
“That isn’t it at all,” he says, his voice low. “I…I just don’t know how to help.”
“I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” Of course, that isn’t true at all. If Leo leaves, I don’t know what I’m going to do. He might think he isn’t helping me, but just having him here, supporting me, has been my only lifeline.
Why can’t he understand that? I’m in Montovia—surrounded by his family, who has huge expectations of me. They want to make sure I don’t screw up their little heir. Since Andrew and Victoria can’t have children, the burden of producing the future heir to the throne falls to Leo. And me. I still haven’t quite accepted that—once Matthew is old enough to understand anything, he’ll begin having his life molded to become king of this country.
Maybe I should leave. I could take Matthew back to America and raise him myself. He’d never have to know he was heir to the throne. We could live somewhere in anonymity, and he could have a normal childhood.
I blink a few times—of course, I would never do that. I couldn’t leave Leo—I don’t want to leave Leo. But apparently, he wants to leave me. I know it’s illogical to be worried about this—after all, he’s the one who wanted to get married now.
But that knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less. I look up at him, and tears fill my eyes at his expression. I see the love in his eyes—the same as it was the day Matthew was born. But there’s pain there, too. And I don’t understand why.
“What did I do, Leo?” I blink back the tears that fill my eyes at my words. Damn it with these hormones. I swear, I might need to go on an antidepressant if it doesn’t stop soon. “It hasn’t even been a month. I…I know you have needs. And…and I’m sorry—”
“My God, that isn’t it at all.” He takes a step toward the bed. “Elle, I hope you don’t think me so selfish after everything…”
My chin starts to quiver again. “I don’t. I mean…I don’t. Unless you really are going off to sleep with a supermodel. But I guess I wouldn’t blame you. I’m a mess. I’m covered in baby puke and I smell like rotten milk. I’m fat and—”
