Unprepared Daddy: A Second Chance Romance

by Bella Winters

  Mother had always told me that a true king could pull himself from any emotion, any vice, and any situation for the betterment of his kingdom and his people. For some reason, even after all I had done, she still felt that those attributes were somewhere inside of me, waiting to get out. I, however, had never felt confident in the idea that I could be a great king or a good husband and father. So, instead of facing those fears with the tenacity of the royal blood that flowed through my veins, I fled, seeking refuge in the dark dirty crevasses of strip clubs, bars, and loose women. It was almost as if all these years I had pushed the thought away, no longer wanting to even try to be the man my mother, and now Adriana, knew I could be. The fear was stifling, and when it hit me, I was almost paralyzed, grasping at anything I could to take the feeling away, not caring who it affected.

  Adriana had given it a good try, a better try than almost anyone else in my life. She didn’t care about my wealth or crown. She cared about me. I hadn’t even realized until that moment that her agreement to the contract was less about money and more about the man she saw during the few moments that I opened up and talked about myself. The moments where I had let down my guard and allowed myself to be an actual human, and not just some spoiled rich asshole that cared very little for others. She had seen something in me that was impossible to see in myself.

  After several days had passed, I found myself staring out the window, something that had become routine for me. I would stare off into the country, thoughts banging against my brain, hoping to find some kind of answer in the darkness beyond the castle. Standing from my chair, I started to pace around the room. I felt the anxiousness in my feet and chest, and as I approached the cupboard, I stopped, running my hand across the bottle of whiskey. It had been staring me in the face for days, but I had managed to keep myself from indulging, knowing I would just feel worse in the end. At that point, however, my motto seemed to be, fuck it, so I grabbed a glass and poured myself two fingers. Had I just stopped after that, I might have actually begun to feel better, but I always had an issue with excess, and to excess was exactly where I took the drinking.

  One glass turned to two, and two to three, and before I knew it, the bottle was emptied. I called the servants to bring me more, and even though I could see the knowing look in their eye, they did their duty and brought me what I needed. The thoughts that seeped into my brain when the glasses became full then empty was torturous, and I couldn’t get Adriana out of my mind. Her beautiful smile, her luscious lips, and her understanding nature eventually began to feel as unreal as my ability to bring her back.

  My life had been a succession of events starting at childhood and raging through the years. My father’s death had not even begun to simmer in my chest when I met Adriana, and I knew that his death was something I was pushing back against. Adriana gave me relief where no bottle could, but because I let my fears drive me to a darker place, I completely destroyed the good in her, taking myself down with it.

  Back into the twisting and turning hell of drinking, I threw myself, not finding any more solace in the spinning of the room than I did in the passing clouds, but at least I had found a cure to my insomnia. My despair switched between utter hopelessness and anger, and eventually many of the servants refused to come to my chambers for fear that they would find a glass thrown at their head. Everything was starting to spin out of control, and even though I wasn’t on a plane to some city with clubs and strippers, the loneliness of my room and the unforgiving depth of the bottle started to become worse than the paparazzi on the doorstep.

  Chapter 17: Adriana

  Driving back through Liverpool was more disheartening than I thought it would be. In my memories, our old apartment seemed so much worse than the flat my mother had inherited, but as I drove into Toxteth, I realized that I might have imagined it nicer than it really was. Everything was run down, and the streets were littered with drug dealers and thugs.

  I wrapped my arms around my belly and thought about raising a child in this life. This had been my life as a kid, so I knew it could be done. But after the luxurious, peaceful place I had just returned from, my old neighborhood looked like a festering cesspool of filth. The taxi pulled up in front of the complex, and I pulled myself out of the cab, exhausted from the trip. The papers were piled up on our stoop, and it was obvious nothing had been maintained by my mother.

  The place had fallen from half-crappy to full-on shitbox. I struggled with the thought of what the inside would look like. The doors creaked on their hinges and swayed with the breeze as I struggled to pull my suitcases inside and then slammed the door behind me. At the sight of things, I quickly realized that cleaning had not been on my mother’s to-do list.

  I tipped over the empty liquor bottles as I moved through the hallways. The drapes had been drawn closed inside the living room, and I almost missed my mother, passed out at the dining room table, surrounded by empty bottles. Nothing could have brought me a clearer idea of reality than that moment. I walked over and pulled the drapes open, letting the sunlight flood the floors. My mother grunted in her own slobber. I walked over and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled slightly as she tried to open her eyes, but instead, she just patted me on the head and leaned into me.

  She was heavier than I remembered, and getting her to her room was quite a strain on my body. I threw her down on the bed, grabbed a towel, and started cleaning her up. My heart hurt a bit as she clasped my hand and smiled, feeling my presence back in the house. This had been my normal routine for many years, and even though I knew exactly what to do, a very large part of me didn’t want to. But what were my options?

  I could have stayed at the palace. It was beautiful, clean, and luxurious, but it was also full of demons and secrets. I would have to take care of a drunk, fake husband and a very real baby. Or I could be in this flat, doing the same thing, but for someone that seemed, at least some of the time, to appreciate it. Either way, the decisions I had to make were no longer my own. The baby was growing in my belly, and I had already fallen in love.

  After my mother had been tucked in and I knew she was safe, I started to comb the apartment to really see what the damage was. Besides being dusty and full of bottles, it seemed that mother hadn’t been able to completely destroy it, at least on the inside. I opened the fridge and held my breath, seeing the same food I had left in there months and months before, still sitting on the shelves, covered in mold. A deep breath didn’t even fully explain the reaction I had at that moment, but I shrugged it off and grabbed some gloves, getting to work making the place habitable again. At least I could find comfort in knowing the cleaning supplies would be right where I left them.

  When the place was cleaned and the laundry had been started, I grabbed my purse and headed out for the city. I needed money, and I knew my mother wasn’t going to be any help with that. She never had been. I pulled up in front of one of the most expensive jewelry stores in the city, and I jumped out, trying to avoid thinking about what I had to do. The man behind the counter was kind and took my giant rock to the back to examine it. I had nothing else to give, so I had resolved that I would pawn the ring Milos had given me to pay the bills. It wasn’t my finest hour, but it definitely wasn’t the worst, at least until the man came back with the ring in his hand.

  “Sweetie, I hate to tell you this, but the stone in this ring is fake,” he said kindly.

  “No, there is no way. Are you sure?” My stomach dropped, and I immediately wanted to curse Milos out before realizing I was there to pawn it.

  “Yep, it’s a factory-made stone,” he sighed. “But if you still want to sell, I’ll give you a thousand pounds for the band, it’s 24k gold.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said, still stunned.

  “These things tend to happen from time to time,” he replied, obviously having noticed I was beside myself with anger.

  “Um, yeah, I’ll sell the band then,” I said, as I realized I had no other choice.

  The moment I took a th
ousand pounds for the fake ring, from my fake marriage to a real prince, was the moment I really felt like an idiot. I walked outside and combined that thousand with what I had saved from the strip club and headed over to the bank to take care of the mortgage. I hoped that they would negotiate a lower price for me, since I still needed to make sure we had food. Luckily, when I sat down with the mortgage representative, he could see what had happened and showed me a small amount of mercy. By the time I had secured our home for another bit of time, I was starving, and I figured my mother probably hadn’t eaten anything worthwhile in quite a bit of time. I looked at the money I had left over, which was barely enough for groceries, much less a ride home. I sighed deeply and went to the local market. By the time I had walked back to the house, my mother had begun to stir, so I fixed us a hot meal and sat silently across the table from her.

  I looked down at my stew and thought about the grand dining halls, the huge chandeliers, and the beautiful china that once sat in front of me. It was so disheartening. I had spent a bit of time in what seemed like nothing more than a dream now, and I had fallen in love with a man that didn’t really exist. He had built himself up to be someone he was not, and at that moment, despair flooded me.

  After dinner, I sent my mother back to bed, instead of letting her go out to look for her next bottle of liquor. Then, I set my room back up with clean sheets. I looked around the unfamiliar space and couldn’t help but reminisce of my bedroom at the castle. It all seemed like so long ago as I compared it to the room I was standing in. I felt nothing but sadness. I went to sleep that night, hoping that the next day brought me some sort of reprieve.

  In the morning, I decided to leave before my mother got up, knowing she would be in full bitch mode, not having drunk the night before. I tiptoed through the house, grabbing a granola bar from the cabinet, and started my walk toward the clinic. I needed to have a doctor’s check up, since I hadn’t told anyone about the baby yet. Afterward, I needed to go start looking for a job so that we could keep the lights on. When I arrived at the clinic, I filled out my information on the paperwork, putting down my maiden name. I realized I needed to get that taken care of eventually. Knowing the royals, they would just wipe everything clear as if it had never happened. Just the thought of being wiped away made my heart ache, and I forced my attention on the task at hand.

  As I sat on the edge of the small bed and waited for the doctor to return, I thought about the night that the baby would have been conceived, our wedding night. That was the night I had really given in to my urges and let Milos start seeping into my heart. I was stupid and look where it got me.

  I had to swallow my pride and march back into poverty and loneliness with a child I had made with love. The doctor entered back into the room and smiled sweetly as she gave me the news I already knew. I was pregnant. She handed me about a million pamphlets. I thumbed through them while they set my future appointments. I allowed a tiny bit of excitement to enter into my mind, from the idea of bringing a baby into the world. However, as I trudged back home to the dirty flat with my drunken mother still passed out upstairs, that excitement faded.

  All the pictures on the front of the brochures were happy, healthy babies held by their mother and father in a safe environment. It was almost nauseating how far down my flat was from where I had been just days before that moment. How was I supposed to provide a good life for this child? To be honest, I knew before that appointment that I loved the child that grew inside of me. If only I could have married the Prince Charming that had swept me off my feet on my wedding night. The man that looked longingly at me and worshipped my body. In that flat in Liverpool, the only thing that looked longingly at me were the mice in the corners, looking for their next scrap of food.

  I knew I couldn’t sit there all day, wallowing in my own personal misery. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I grabbed the local paper and started to search for a job. There seemed to be more jobs than I remembered in the area, so I grabbed a marker and started circling everything that sounded remotely possible. From waitressing to maid services, I was willing to get my hands dirty if it meant I could save up some money and start a life for me and the child. While I was at it, I circled a rehab facility that I planned on forcing my mother into. She wouldn’t be happy at first, but when she had reached sobriety and held her grandbaby in her arms, I knew she would thank me for it. I knew I would be thankful for a sober mother, as well, especially since raising a child by yourself is difficult, and I would need all the help I could get.

  Reality sure kicked me right in the teeth. I had just been surrounded by servants, luxury, and freedom. The truth of what I was facing afterward was harsh, cold, and uncomfortable. I knew I had to get past the heartache if I was going to survive any of this. Milos could keep his life in the castle. He was born and bred for it. I wasn’t. I just hoped one day, he would look back and realize what he really missed out on, feeling the emotions that plagued my entire being. I hoped that one day, my child could have a better life than I was going to be forced to provide it, without the trauma of life with a parent that loved the booze and the women more than his own family. I knew what growing up like felt, better than anyone. I was determined to walk into a brighter future and give my child the best life possible.

  Chapter 18: Milos

  The sun had just come up, and I had already poured my second glass of whiskey for the day. I was posted in my, now normal, sitting area and stared out over the gardens, thinking about the time I made love to Adriana in the hedge maze. It had been the moment I realized I loved her, but I pushed the feelings so far down that I managed to screw up everything.

  The servants at my quarters were down to two, ever since I had developed a habit of screaming at them when they entered. I knew I was being more than an asshole, but I wanted to be alone, not in the presence of the babysitting crew I had come to realize was ordered by my mother.

  I ignored the knock on the door, in the hope that they would just fuck off. The pounding was so loud, it shook my glass on the table. Eventually, the door just swung open, and I turned slightly to see Brat walking through my bedroom. His face showed anger, and he was dragging Zlata by the arm through the maze of bottles that were scattered across the floor. He let go of her arm and grabbed the drink from my hand.

  “Drink this,” he said as he slammed a cup of coffee in my hand.

  “Brat, I’m not really in the mood for your lifesaving tactics today,” I sighed.

  “Just drink it. Zlata has something she wants to tell you.” He gestured in her direction, not looking thrilled.

  I looked over at her and sipped the coffee in an attempt to at least appease Brat for the moment. She looked down at her feet and crossed her arms in front of her. I could tell she didn’t want to talk, but Brat had drug her here, and she wasn’t being given an option. Brat nudged her in the side and pushed her forward. She looked up at me and shook her head, being indignant as always.

  “Tell him Zlata, or so help me God, I’ll make sure our parents know about your trip to the islands with that commoner from town,” Brat scolded through gritted teeth.

  “I hired a private investigator to find dirt on Adriana,” she blurted out.

  “You did what?” I was absolutely furious. How dare she stick her nose where it didn’t belong?

  “Hear me out,” she said, putting her hands up defensively. “I knew she was a gold digger. When detective found out she used to be a stripper, I knew she didn’t belong in this kingdom.”

  “Tell him the other part,” Brat growled. “Stop stalling.”

  “The investigator also found out that Adriana’s pregnant,” Zlata said. She handed me a photo of Adriana going into a clinic. “But with her past, I don’t even know how you could think it was yours.”

  “That’s enough, Zlata,” Brat said as he grabbed her arm.

  “No,” she said, pulling forward toward me. “She is not right for you. Forget about her, get a divorce, and marry me. You know I would make a
good queen for your people.”

  “Brat,” I said with a tone of warning. “Please shut her up before I bring back the old tradition of beheading and placing bodies on stakes around the castle.”

  Brat stepped forward, wrapped his arm around Zlata, and pressed his hand against her mouth. She stood there struggling as Brat looked up at me with concern in his eyes. I was livid that Zlata had gone behind my back and done something like this, but the thought that Adriana was pregnant had become the sole focus of my thoughts.

  “Go to her. This is her address.” Brat handed me the paperwork from the private investigator. “You love her. I could see that even before you could. Adriana is a good woman, despite her choice in past careers, and I am pretty positive she loves you too, Milos. It’s really not that difficult. You just need to reach inside of you, figure out the man you really are, and pull your head out of your ass. Be the love that she, and that baby, deserve.”

  I watched as Brat flashed me a knowing smile and dragged Zlata from the room. I set the coffee down on the table next to the whiskey and stared at them both. There was no denying that I was madly in love with this girl. When she’d first left, it seemed almost hopeless, but now, knowing I had a child growing in her belly, I was even more determined to get her back. I picked up the glass of whiskey and walked over to the sink, tipped the cup, and watched the last of it drain down the gold pipes. I needed to get to Liverpool, and there wasn’t another moment to be wasted.