by Geneva Lee
“He had a meeting,” I lied. “It’s really not a big deal.”
“You’re halfway through. They must be doing a scan.”
“Not this time.” Talking with my mother always reminded me how easy it was to lie to someone you loved. “I will let you know how it goes.”
“Yes and we need to do dinner soon. We missed celebrating Alexander’s birthday—”
“I’ll ask him about it. I have to go. I’m there.” I hung up the phone after five more promises to make concrete plans soon.
We had missed Alexander’s birthday. I’d opened the games as a ceremonial gesture, but I hadn’t even gotten him a cake. It hadn’t occurred to me to plan a party or host a dinner. I’d been focused on the games while I ignored my real life. Was that where everything had gone wrong?
“Does your mother know where your doctor’s office is?” Georgia asked, calling my attention away from my self-flagellation. I shook my head. “Thank God, or she probably would have shown up.”
“Let’s get this over with, just to be sure,” Belle teased as Smith pulled into a carpark.
“Around the corner.” Georgia directed him to a secluded spot and Smith shot her dirty looks.
“Who taught you how to drive?” he asked her.
“The same person who taught you,” she admitted, “but while you’ve been roaming the streets in your flashy sports cars, I got better at it.”
“They’re always like this,” Belle said under her breath.
The doctor’s office was empty, a courtesy I was definitely grateful for. Right now I didn’t feel like having my photo taken or eyes follow me through the clinic. Belle was the only one allowed into the exam room with me. We left Smith and Georgia bickering outside.
A round-faced nurse bustled in and cheerfully took my vitals, asking me questions about how I felt, like I was any other patient who might walk through the doors. It was a nice change of pace.
“This is different than I expected,” Belle told me when the nurse left to call the doctor.
“What happens at your appointments?” I settled against the exam chair.
“The exact same thing,” she said.
“I’ll make them call me Your Majesty for the rest of the exam if you like,” I said dryly.
Doctor Ball entered the room scanning my chart, and his brows crinkled with concern. “Your blood pressure seems high.”
“I just spoke with my mother.” Madeline Bishop should come with her own side effects disclaimer: May cause sudden increase in blood pressure, heart palpitations, feelings of depression and homicidal urges.
“I suppose I can’t tell you not to speak with your mother until after the baby’s born,” he said.
“I wish you would,” I said with a bitter smile. Doctor’s orders might be the only thing to keep her at bay.
“Leave her to me.” Belle patted my hand.
“Let’s keep an eye on it,” he suggested. “Are you ready to see your baby?” He glanced around as if realizing something was missing. “Will your husband be joining us?”
I forced a brittle smile. “He couldn’t. I brought my best friend.”
“Oh lovely.” He stuck out his hand in introduction. She took it and his head cocked to the side. “And how far along are you?”
“Ten weeks.” Belle practically vibrated with excitement because he’d noticed. He must have had a sixth sense when it came to pregnant women, because she still looked the same to me.
“Now let’s meet the new addition,” he suggested.
The ultrasound gel was cold as he applied it to my bump and I craned my head to see the monitor, holding my breath. I was still only feeling the baby sporadically, and I was a little nervous. But then: there he was, dancing on the screen. I exhaled as a gentle peace washed over me, followed instantly by guilt from keeping Alexander away.
“So, are we finding out?” Dr. Ball asked.
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to keep it a surprise. The other part wondered if Alexander wanted to know. One of my favorite things about being pregnant last time was the ongoing debate we’d had about whether the baby was a boy or girl. “I’m not sure.”
“I’ll make a note in my files and I can tell you later if you decide you want to know.”
I nodded. That seemed like a perfect compromise.
“I’m going to check some measurements and make sure we’re where we should be. I’ll send you with pictures to share with your family.”
I murmured a thanks, my eyes never leaving the tiny life growing inside me. Belle squeezed my hand and I saw she had tears in her eyes.
“He’s perfect,” she told me.
“He, huh?” It was good to know she was in my camp on the gender debate.
“Or she,” she teased.
“I can’t wait until you have yours. Are you finding out?” I asked her.
“I bloody well will be,” she said. “I have a lot of shopping to do!”
“Is the placenta okay?” I asked Dr. Ball, worried that we would have a repeat of my pregnancy with Elizabeth.
Dr. Ball looked up, startled, and stared for a moment, before quickly nodding. “It’s anterior. You won’t have felt much movement, I expect.”
That explained it, but it didn’t explain why he looked so worried.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, no longer caring about the placenta.
“I’m not certain,” he admitted. He spent the next few minutes moving the wand around and zooming in on the baby. With each second that passed, my panic ratcheted up a level, until he finally swiveled around. “I’d like you to see a specialist.”
“What’s wrong?” I pressed. Belle’s hand tightened over mine and I clutched it like a lifeline.
“There’s a slight irregularity with the baby’s heart. It might be nothing, but it should be looked into.”
Tears swelled in my throat, and I choked out the one question I needed answered. “Is the baby going to be okay?”
“The baby is healthy. It might be nothing, but I’d rather be cautious. I can make a few calls and get you in to see a specialist.”
“Can I go after hours?” I asked softly. “I’d rather not have people speculating…”
“I understand. I know a doctor who will see to your absolute privacy,” he reassured me. He paused and offered me a warm smile. “I don’t want you worrying about this. I see nothing to suggest we have a serious concern.”
“What if it is serious?” I wanted to face the worst case scenario now rather than imagine what it could be. “What could we do?”
“Medicine has come a very long way. If surgery is necessary, we can perform it immediately upon birth. Believe me, knowing what, if anything, is wrong will make a difference.”
I stared at the monitor where our child moved freely, oblivious to the world waiting for him, and wished I could keep him there, safe and protected. “Can I have a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll need to…”
I nodded that it was okay and said a silent goodbye as he shut off the monitor. He reached down and handed me a few printed pictures. Hesitating at the door, he turned, “It’s really quite normal to have little abnormalities pop up during a scan and then discover it was nothing.”
I pressed my lips into a grim smile. It wasn’t always nothing. The second the door closed, the tears I’d been holding down broke free. Belle moved to sit next to me and circled me in a tight hug. She didn’t try to calm me down with empty words or reassurances. She just let me cry. Sometimes that was all a best friend could do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ALEXANDER
I was in no mood for political drama. I’d spent the last few nights sharing a bed with Clara in a frustratingly puritanical fashion. She was asleep when I turned in and gone when I woke up. Her meals were spent with Edward or Belle or alone. We’d barely spoken more than twenty words to one another since I’d revealed the truth about Anders. I was determined to give her space, but if she appreciated it, I didn’t know. S
he certainly hadn’t told me. Meanwhile, I had the fucking privilege of sitting through unproductive meetings and accomplishing nothing. I was trapped in a cycle of doing nothing and saying nothing, which left me feeling bloody hopeless.
“The Prime Minister has arrived,” Norris informed me.
“You aren’t my secretary,” I snapped. “Shouldn’t you be protecting someone?”
“At the moment, the only person in danger is you,” he said in an even voice.
I placed the bait on the hook and dangled it, angling for a fight. “Oh really?”
“In danger of making an ass of yourself.” He tugged at his suit jacket without blinking. “Shall I show the Prime Minister in?”
“Please,” I said through gritted teeth. Norris wasn’t going to fight with me and, in my experience, Prime Minister Clark was more likely to roll over and take it than defend himself.
The whole situation left me feeling twitchy. I’d tried to do the right thing and give Clara what she wanted. I’d fucked up plenty, but it wasn’t as though I was keeping a secret to hurt her. It was the opposite. I’d accepted she would be angry with me when I finally decided to tell her, but her silent show of disappointment was so much worse.
The Prime Minister showed up in my office looking as though he’d swallowed a rotten egg. I wasn’t fond of these meetings either, but this was extreme. He took a seat across from me and cleared his throat ominously.
“What’s happened now?” I asked wearily. There was always some new economic crisis or terrorist threat. The sky was always falling, and yet, we were still sitting here breathing.
“Parliament has called a special council to discuss the treatment of Oliver Jacobson,” he informed me.
It was the last thing I expected. “He’s been formally charged.”
“Yes,” Clark hesitated before continuing, “but there are some members of Parliament who feel the crown has overstepped its bounds in this case.”
“I bet I could pick those members out of a line-up,” I said darkly.
Clark winced as though I’d struck a sore point. “In addition, they’re calling for his release.”
My fingers dug into the arms of my chair and I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. “You aren’t serious? We have a signed confession.”
“Some are saying a man will confess to anything after being held—”
“Stop being a politician for one goddamned minute, Clark,” I ordered him, rising from my seat, “and tell me what you think.”
His jaw tensed as he stared up at me, the only proof that he was anything but calm. “I think its bollocks. I’ve seen the evidence. It’s damning.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?” I turned and gazed out the window, wondering how anyone could be so blind.
“I can’t do anything. They’re calling for action and for legislation which will severely limit the powers of the monarchy,” he explained in a low voice.
“They want my crown,” I muttered with a laugh as I stared at the grounds of my palace. It was ridiculous. I never wanted the damn thing in the first place. I’d been forced to take it to protect my wife from a man who wanted to destroy me, no matter the cost. It was a twisted, unending cycle, and I was trapped. I whipped around to face Clark. “Maybe you should be King.”
“That’s not really how it works,” he said slowly, missing the joke.
“I’m not looking for a lesson in government.” My whole life had been one: shaking hands, enduring endless hours of political discussion, parties, paparazzi, lies, secrets, and impotent compromises.
“I wanted to warn you.” He paused as if weighing what he would say next. “I think you might have more enemies in Parliament. I only pray they don’t come after you like Jacobson.”
“Let them.” I leaned down, clutching the edge of my desk. “Let them come for me. They’ve mistaken me for my title, but I’m flesh and blood and I’ll fight like any man for what’s mine. They think I’m some powerless figure that they can control—that they can frighten into bowing to them? I bow before no man.”
* * *
Norris appeared as soon as Clark left, white-faced and apologetic. He smiled tightly as he shut the door behind him. “That went well.”
“So I don’t need to catch you up?” The perk of having an advisor trained to eavesdrop constantly was that I didn’t have to rehash the sordid stories. Now that Clark was gone, I collapsed in my seat, feeling the fury that had fueled me moments before leak away.
“I’m having our people look into who is behind this legislative action.”
I rested my head against the back of my chair, closing my eyes. “It will be interesting to see where it leads.”
“I spoke with the nurses and everything is fine,” he reported. It was a needless reminder of my responsibilities.
“I assume you’ll tell me if that changes.”
“I thought you might like to know.”
I filed the information away. There were more important items to consider: Clark’s warning for one, and my wife’s studious avoidance of me for another. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.
“You’ve done all you can,” Norris began, “so I think you should take a day off.”
“I get a break from ruling the country? Brilliant. I thought it was a full-time job.” I rubbed at my jaw and wished I was talking to Clara. Being with her was the only thing that could grant me a moment’s reprieve. But I was being punished; I had to take my medicine and like it.
“Do you even know what day it is?” he asked, finally taking a seat. “Burning the candle at both ends only leaves you in the dark.”
“I’m afraid I’ve been in the dark for a while,” I admitted. “That’s how it always feels when she shuts me out, but this time I can’t pretend I don’t deserve it.”
“Clara doesn’t want to hurt you.”
“She’s doing a damn good job despite that,” I said with a rueful smile. “She needs time.”
“She needs you.”
I wanted to believe him, but right now, it felt like I was the last thing my wife needed. She certainly didn’t need me to burden her with any more trouble. What would I tell her if she was here? Nothing would come of the parliamentary council except an increase in editorials calling for the end of the monarchy. Personally, I might welcome an early retirement. It was best to give her the opportunity to process things, even if I would rather she was here distracting me with her perfect body.
Instead, I had Norris, who was good company, but not half as sexy.
“What day of the week is it anyway?” I asked.
“Wednesday,” he said pointedly.
“And that’s important because?” I didn’t have the energy to decipher the hints he was dropping.
“It’s less the day of the week so much as the date.”
“Just tell me,” I begged. “What am I forgetting?”
He considered for a moment before taking pity on me. “A rather important doctor’s appointment.”
I was on my feet before the last syllable left his mouth.
“Keys,” I barked.
“I’ll have the car brought ‘round.” Norris stood, straightening his jacket with excruciating care. Sod his goddamn suit when I was wrecking my marriage—again!
“Keys, Norris,” I said, hoping to make myself clear.
“Alexander, I can’t allow you—”
“There is nothing more dangerous than failing her right now,” I said in a low voice. I needed to be there not as a king but as her husband. “Some things a man has to face alone.”
His wife was one of them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CLARA
I peppered the doctor with questions for the next hour and refused to leave until we had an appointment with the specialist arranged within the week.
“You can exercise, eat normally, have sex,” he reassured me. “Anything that reduces your stress will help the baby.” He tacked on the last bit with a sort of forced hop
efulness. We both knew there was no avoiding stress in my life. It was a given.
But I could try to de-stress, and I would do whatever it took to see my child safely into the world.
Dr. Ball paused outside the exam room door and placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Clara. You have an army of specialists at your fingertips.”
“Dr. Ball,” I didn’t know where to begin, because there was one more question that haunted me. “The placenta with Elizabeth and now this—I’m not very good at being pregnant.”
Belle, who had kept a firm hold on me throughout, hugged me around the shoulders.
“It has nothing to do with you,” he said, but he didn’t sound sure.
I couldn’t press him further. Since Alexander had become a father, it had changed him. The man who had never wanted a baby would happily see me barefoot and pregnant for the rest of my life. Having a child had done more to help him become a better man than I ever could. Even he had acknowledged it. He’d also made it clear he’d happily fill every empty room in the palace. I couldn’t imagine telling him I was damaged goods—unfit to bear his children—when he wanted them so badly.
Before we reached the waiting room, I pulled Belle aside.
“Don’t say anything, please.”
She searched my face for a moment. “Clara, we’re all here to support you and you’re going to need that more than ever.”
“But I don’t need pity.” I couldn’t expect her to understand. My every move was already watched by security teams and tabloids, even my own husband. The thought of them analyzing me, judging me—or just feeling sorry for me—was too much. No one else could carry my burden, just as no one else could carry my child.
“I won’t say anything,” she promised, “but you are telling Alexander.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Clara, I know you’re upset with him, but—”