“I love you, Margot,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Another tear slides down her cheek, but Margot smiles. Her lips stretch, her eyes shine, and her hands curl into my shirt.
I watch Margot’s throat bob as she swallows.
Finally, she speaks. “Okay.”
That one word saves me.
It’s not poetic. It’s not eternal prose. It’s not a lengthy profession of love…
…but it’s perfect.
Okay means yes. It means she’ll let me in. It means all this hasn’t been for nothing.
Okay means I love you, too.
My heart flips in my chest as a laugh bubbles up through me. “Okay?”
She nods, smiling through her tears. “Okay.”
Pulling me toward her by my shirt, Margot kisses me, and my world is complete. The instant her lips touch mine, I know I’m the luckiest man in the world.
Her kiss is magic. It’s healing, it’s hopeful, it’s her heart, and it’s all mine. Wrapping my arms around the woman of my dreams, I tangle my fingers into her short hair and kiss her harder. Our tongues dance, our breaths mix, and our hearts beat as one.
When I drop to my knees and press my lips to her belly, tears start sliding down my cheeks.
“Hi there,” I say to the baby, putting my hands on her stomach. “I’m your father.”
A tiny, strangled sob escapes Margot, and she places her hand on my head. I rest my cheek against her stomach, breathing in her scent, her aura, her love.
Then, the baby kicks me right in the jaw. I jump back, yelping, and Margot laughs. She lifts her shirt up, and I see tiny feet pushing out from inside her. My eyes widen as I stare, on my knees in front of her.
“He does that when he’s happy,” Margot explains. “He must like the idea of having you as a dad.”
“He?”
Margot shrugs, smiling. “I decided not to find out, but I think it’s a boy. He’s always kicking and moving around.”
I let out a long sigh, putting my hand against my son’s foot. He kicks against me a few more times before settling down, and another lump forms in my throat.
Vicky lets out a sigh, and we both turn to see her wiping her eyes with a tissue. I’d forgotten she was there. She shakes her head at us, turning away. “It’s too much. Too perfect. My poor heart can’t take this. I need to go call my kids.”
Blowing her nose into the tissue, she turns and shuffles down the hallway toward the office.
Margot laughs, her hands still tangled in my hair as I kneel in front of her.
I look up, my heart overflowing with happiness. I can’t stop smiling. There’s a tingling sensation through my whole body, and my chest feels light.
I hold the love of my life in my arms, knowing I’ll never let her go.
EPILOGUE
MARGOT
TURNS OUT, I was wrong. We didn’t have a boy after all.
Our baby girl, Hope, was born at 2:36pm on the first of April, after a thirteen-hour labor. She weighed a whopping nine pounds, four ounces. I guess she was enjoying her existence inside me, and didn’t want to come out at all. She entered this world kicking and screaming, like the fighter she is.
When Dante held her for the first time, he melted into a puddle of fatherly goo on the hospital room floor. I cried, then. Really cried. Maybe it was the hormones of pregnancy and labor. Maybe it was the emotion of seeing my daughter for the first time.
Whatever it was, I let go of all the nasty feelings that held me back from believing Dante when he said he’d be by my side. I cried, cleansing myself of the past and readying myself for the future with my baby and my soon-to-be husband.
WE WERE MARRIED A YEAR LATER, when my body was mostly recovered and Dante and I had slipped into a happy life together. Our wedding was in Argyle, in the same place that Ivy married Luca. Ivy was my maid of honor, and she cried during the entire ceremony. Having my sister by my side at my wedding meant the world to me. If I’m completely honest, I cried most of the time, too.
Hope and Ivy’s twins, Coco and Hazel, acted as flower girls. The three of them were perfect, running down the aisle on clumsy, chubby, one-year-old legs. The three girls were best friends the instant they met when they were a few days old, and they giggled through the wedding, reminding us how much we loved them.
The royal family of Farcliff attended the wedding, but I invited very few celebrities and socialites. It was an intimate affair, but we did release a few pictures to the public afterward.
Shortly after the wedding, I retired from public life. Dante and I moved to a small cottage in the Farcliff countryside, away from prying eyes and overzealous photographers.
It was the peace and quiet we needed to recover from the chaos that our life had been. In that cottage, Dante and I got to know each other again. We made love often, as much as possible, and laughed every chance we got.
We acquired three dogs and a cat. The cat was a stray that followed Dante home one day, and the dogs came from a rescue in Farcliff run by Queen Elle’s adoptive father. All four animals adored Hope from the instant they met her.
Ivy and Luca came to see us about once a month to escape the hectic running of Spoonful of Sugar.
Hunter and Beckett were both imprisoned for life. I never visited either of them, and after my baby was born, I didn’t give them much thought. Neither men deserved my attention, and I was happy to leave them in my past.
ON OUR TWO-YEAR ANNIVERSARY, Dante and I dropped Hope off with her cousins, and Dante took me on a trip to Argyle. King Theo reserved one of the royal islands for us, and we finally had a long-awaited honeymoon weekend.
I’m not ashamed to say I missed Hope so much that I cried on the entire plane ride. In three years, a weekend vacation would be the longest I’d spent away from my daughter.
What can I say? I’m a mother.
Once I saw the clear blue waters and the palm trees, and once I felt the feather pillows and the impossibly comfortable bed, though, my mood changed.
The first night, we just slept.
When we woke up, Dante and I made love to the sounds of the ocean waves lapping the shore. I came in his arms, and I knew there was no one luckier than me.
When we lay tangled in the bedsheets, Dante stroked my face and let out a sigh. “I want another kid,” he told me, smiling hopefully.
My chest tightened, and I gulped down my anxieties. “Dante…”
“I know,” he interrupted. “It’s too much of a risk with the Huntington’s gene.”
I nodded, unable to answer. We still didn’t know if Hope had the disease—we had to wait until she turned eighteen and got the genetic testing done for herself. It was a fifty-fifty chance, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of risking it with another child.
“What about adoption?” Dante asked, trailing his fingers over my skin.
My eyes widened, and my heart exploded. I kissed Dante, then, and my love for him multiplied. This man had such a big heart that not only did he take Hope on as his own child, but he wanted more kids to love, even if they weren’t his own.
He also took me, flaws and all, and made it his life’s purpose to love me just as I loved him.
SO, we adopted three more children over the course of the next five years. Our little cottage in the woods soon ran out of space, and we finally moved back to the city to be closer to Ivy and Luca. By that time, media attention around me and Dante had died down to nothing, and we were able to live a normal life.
The Huntington’s Disease Society of Farcliff grew to support hundreds of people living with the disease as well as their carers. Dante was a champion of the cause, reminding me every day with his dedication to the HDSF that he was doing this for me.
I never doubted him again. For the rest of our days, Dante never faltered. He was never afraid as my illness progressed, and never fearful of the future. He was by my side, always.
Even when my tremors got worse. Even when I had trouble walking. Even w
hen my mood swings became more extreme, and I started truly fearing the end.
He was there beside me, loving me fully and unconditionally.
NOW, eighteen years after Hope’s birth, she sits across from Dante and me with an envelope in her hands. My daughter takes a shaking breath, dragging her eyes up to mine.
“I’m scared.”
“I know, honey,” I say, leaning against Dante. “You can do it. Trust me, it’s better to know for sure.”
When Hope rips the envelope open, my heart falters. If I passed on the disease to my daughter, I know it will be the killing blow. I won’t have the energy to fight much longer if I know I’ve condemned my daughter to an early grave.
But Hope lets out a relieved breath, lifting her eyes up to mine. “Negative.”
Tears slide down my cheeks as my daughter throws her arms around me and Dante. The three of us cry happy tears, and I know that we named our daughter appropriately.
She’s always been the Hope in our lives.
She gave me hope before she was born, when I was on my own and life was bleak. She gave Dante the courage to come back to me, hopeful that we’d end up together.
Our daughter is the beacon of hope that will carry on long after Dante and I are gone.
Then, our three other teenagers come barreling through the door, home from their day at school. They descend on the kitchen and eat everything in sight like a pack of hungry wolves. In just a few minutes, the fridge is picked clean. All three of them give me a kiss and ask me when dinner will be ready.
Just like that, life is back to normal.
Dante puts his arm around me, kissing the top of my head. His love for me permeates everything, and I know that I would never have been this happy if we hadn’t found each other. He’s braver, stronger, and more loving than I could ever hope for in a partner.
He’s my Dante. My love. My husband. My life.
All four of our kids are healthy. My husband is beside me. I can rest easy, now, knowing that they’ll take care of each other even after I’m gone.
Keep reading for a preview of Book 6: Wrong Prince.
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WRONG PRINCE
ROYALLY UNEXPECTED: BOOK 6
CARA
ONE DIFFERENCE between regular people and royalty is that regular people knock before entering your home.
Royals, on the other hand?
Knocking isn’t part of their vocabulary.
The only warning I get that Prince Theo is at my house is the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside and the driver cutting the engine.
I assume it’s one of my parents’ friends or maybe a member of our household staff, and I ignore it.
The Crown Prince of Argyle bursts through the door in a blaze of abs and windswept hair, tearing the sunglasses off his bronzed face as he scans the room. A soft breeze follows after him, fluttering the edges of his linen shirt.
“Cara!” he calls out. I stand up, putting my book down on the sofa beside me. He flashes me a brilliant smile. “Come on. We’re going.”
Every word Theo speaks is a command. He was born a king, and a part of me likes when he speaks like that. There’s something attractive about confidence and power, even though I’d never be caught dead saying that out loud.
I’m more of the ‘don’t tell me what to do’ kind of gal—or at least that’s what I tell myself. The fluttering in my belly begs to differ.
I frown. “Go where?”
The Prince’s white linen shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest. He’s wearing teal swimming trunks and a pair of white leather boat shoes. He nods toward the open door, grinning.
“It’s the summer solstice. We have a tradition to uphold.”
My heart thumps uncomfortably. I thought our traditions had died when Prince Luca’s accident happened. That day, everything changed.
Three years ago, my betrothed, Prince Luca—Prince Theo’s little brother—jumped off a cliff into shallow water and broke his back. Luca has been trying to recover from his injuries in Singapore, undergoing countless operations and hours of physical therapy.
And me?
I’ve been shut out. Languishing on the other side of the world. Begging him to talk to me, and then slowly accepting that it’s over between us.
At first, I wanted to be there with him. The first year was hell. I called, and called, and called. I cried. I sent letters and messages. I sent him care packages and made sure to try to speak to him every day.
We have a special Post Office box, where we’ve been exchanging messages since we were kids. I checked it every day for a year, hoping he’d have sent me some note, some parcel, some sign that he cared.
Every day, it was empty.
Luca pushed me away. Slowly but surely, he stopped answering. The rest of the royal family backed away from me as my engagement to Luca fizzled. I didn’t just lose my fiancé, I lost all my closest childhood friends.
Luca, Theo, Beckett, Dante—all four brothers became strangers to me. It nearly killed me.
I even went to Singapore a year after the accident, but Luca refused to see me.
The second year, I was in a daze. I don’t remember much, except sleeping a lot and not eating much. The past three years have been the loneliest of my life.
It’s only in the past six months that I’ve started coming around again. Slowly, I’m starting to feel like myself again. I’m making plans for the future. Plans for myself.
But Theo’s standing here in front of me as if nothing at all has changed.
It has changed, though. Being pushed away by Luca is what finally made me decide to leave this Kingdom. I have to. It’s the only way I can move on from all this.
Next week, I’m flying to the United States to pursue my dream of becoming a singer. I’ve applied to two dozen colleges for voice programs and haven’t heard back from any of them, but that won’t stop me. I’m done with letting people push me away and beat me down. I’m stronger than that. I’ve stared into the abyss, and now, I’m walking away.
I’ll go to Los Angeles and work in a restaurant while I try to make it as a singer. I’ll plead with record executives. I’ll sing in dirty dive bars. I’ll do whatever it takes, even if my parents think singing is beneath our family name.
I need to go. Do something for myself. Pursue a dream I’ve had since I was a little girl—a dream that predates Luca, and Theo, and all the heartache that the royal family brought me.
Knowing that I’m leaving is the only thing that has kept me going.
Up until two minutes ago, I thought I’d never see the Princes of Argyle again. I thought all four brothers had turned their backs on me after Luca’s accident.
Apparently, I was wrong.
I clear my throat, combing my fingers through the ends of my long, brown hair. “Your Highness—”
“Cara,” Theo huffs, shaking his head. “Come on. Stop standing there like we didn’t spend every moment of our childhood together. Get your bathing suit on and get in my car. We’re sailing around the islands.”
Argyle is a Caribbean kingdom, complete with white, sandy beaches and waving palm trees. The Kingdom consists of about seventy islands, ranging from land masses the size of Cuba to small atolls with nothing but a single palm tree on them.
Nearly every year since I was seven years old, I’ve sailed around the Kingdom with the four Princes of Argyle. It takes just over two days to do it, and it’s been a highlight of my year, every year, since I was a little girl.
Three years ago, our tradition abruptly stopped. Luca had just had his accident, and we didn’t know whether he would recover. Sailing around the islands didn’t
seem right.
Our yearly sailing trip was yet another thing I mourned.
Prince Theo, the eldest of the Princes of Argyle, stares at me, eyebrows raised. “Well?”
“I thought…” I clear my throat. “I didn’t think we were doing that anymore.”
“Look, Luca might be refusing to talk to you, but it doesn’t mean we aren’t friends. We’ve done this every year since we were kids. It’s tradition.”
“Dante and Beckett?” I raise my eyebrows, wondering if his two other brothers will come.
Theo shakes his head. “You know how Dante is. Won’t even come out of his office to see the sun. He’s developing a new security plan for the palace, and he says he’s too busy researching. Beckett is away for the month on a trip across Europe.”
“You want to do it without them and Luca?”
“It’s the solstice,” Theo says, as if that explains anything. “I’m sick of tiptoeing around the castle. Ever since Luca’s accident, all of Argyle has been in mourning.” He snorts, shaking his head. “No one died! Luca is fine. His physical therapy is going well, even if he refuses to talk to us. The doctors think he’ll walk again.”
I arch my eyebrows. Luca walking again? That would be nothing short of a miracle. If he recovered, would he want to pick up where we left off?
Would I want that?
The churning in my gut tells me no, I wouldn’t. I’m leaving Argyle next week. I’m doing something for me. I’m pursuing my dreams, not falling back into the arms of a man who didn’t want me. Maybe he never wanted me.
It’s over between Luca and me. Has been for a long, long time. His recovery won’t change that.
“Come on, Cara,” Theo continues, taking a step toward me. “I’m sick of it. I need to do something fun. Something normal.” He takes a deep breath, spreading his palms toward me. When Theo’s sharp, blue eyes land on mine, he arches his eyebrows. “I want to hang out with someone I’ve been friends with for years. Like old times.”
Wicked Prince: A Secret Baby Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 5) Page 20