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Rowan
Your cervix changescolor when you’re pregnant, apparently. It gets softer, too, or so the doctor says when I ask why the heck she thinks I’m pregnant.
A blood test confirmed it—I’m carrying the Prince’s child.
A torrent of emotions rips through me, burning a wide swath straight through my heart. It’s the best and worst news I’ve ever heard.
Worst, because it changes the entire course of my life. How am I going to tell the Prince? How will I take care of it? Will he even want the baby?
And it’s the best news, because after the initial shock wears off, and I stand outside the doctor’s office with a handful of pamphlets, I finally feel like my life has a purpose.
It hits me like a sack of rocks to the side of the head. Meaning.
I thought work was my purpose? I thought building a business and being independent was my calling? Those things mean nothing.
Weak sunlight warms my skin as I tilt my head up toward its rays, feeling like my whole life has changed in an instant. My heart beats erratically as my emotions wage war with each other. Panic nips at the heels of excitement, and if I look too closely at it, I fear panic will win. Fear and love and uncertainty grab their weapons and face off inside me.
Eyvar clears his throat, nodding to the door he’s holding open. “Miss Reed?”
Mechanically, I shuffle toward the car. I slip inside, seeing nothing. Feeling everything. My hand smooths over my stomach as Eyvar closes the door, and I jump at the sound. Everything is too loud. Too sensitive. Too warm and somehow too cold, too.
I’m pregnant.
I stare at my past through shards of a broken mirror, realizing that in all the years I’ve worked myself to the bone, I’ve achieved nothing. Well, nothing that really matters.
Yes, I have a business. I have money. I have a contract to redesign a royal residence.
For what? For who?
In the weeks that I’ve been in Nord, I befriended Vikki. I fell in love with Wolfe, and I reconnected with my grandmother. As the car snakes through the snowy streets of Stirling, I think about that little four-letter word. Love. For the first time in my life, I’ve felt it in all its forms, all at once. Family, friendship…and Wolfe. I was a fool to think I could fight these feelings. As soon as he stepped into my life, a tidal wave was crashing into me, and I thought I could fight it off with a crude stick as a weapon. Love swept me out to sea, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
I’m in love with Wolfe. The prince who looked at me like I amused him. The man who opened up to me, day by day, showing me that we aren’t really that different from each other at all. He makes me feel less…alone. I feel more fulfilled here than I ever did in Farcliff, no matter how big my corner office is, or how nice the view is from the top.
Eyvar pulls up outside my house, and I let myself out of the car. I call out a breathless thank you and rush through the front door, locking it as soon as I’m inside. I listen for a beat, but the house is silent. Grandma must be resting.
My heart hammers uncomfortably. I’m flushed and terrified and so fucking excited.
Why am I excited? Shouldn’t panic be winning?
Somehow, I can’t keep the smile off my face. When I catch a glimpse of myself in a hallway mirror, my eyes shine unnaturally and there’s a goofy grin on my lips. Sucking in a deep breath, I try to make sense of what’s going on. I pad down the hallway and lock myself in my room, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the carpet.
Think, Rowan.
I’m keeping the baby. That, I know. I already love it, even though it’s probably the size of a seed. A smile drifts over my lips as I think of my own mother. She must have felt this way about me, too. It’s the reason she went to look for my father in Farcliff. It’s the reason she worked herself to death to provide for me. It’s the reason she never complained about it.
She loved me in a way I didn’t understand. Like only a mother can.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath. Dark, insidious thoughts creep into my frazzled mind. My past grins at me, reminding me that things don’t always turn out the way we hope. My father didn’t want me. He already had a family. Will the Prince want this baby? Am I doing exactly what my mother did with me? Subjecting myself to the kind of difficult life I saw her fight—and lose?
I think of the past four weeks, and how the Prince’s eyes soften every time he glances at me. How his fingers drift over my skin, sending shivers flowing through my very core. The way he looks at me feels…real.
What if he wanted this baby, too? What if royalty wasn’t a wedge between us? We could…We could have a family.
Curling up on the bed, I tuck my knees into my chest and let out a long breath. For one night, I allow myself to hope things will work out. I hope the Prince will feel as good as I do. I hope this baby will have a father.
For one night, I ignore my past. I ignore the blaring warning signs that tell me this isn’t a normal situation, and things might not work out for me and my child.
When I getup in the morning, the sound of the doorbell strikes fear in my heart. No one comes to this house, especially not this early in the morning. Is it the Prince? Did he find out about the baby? Did Eyvar say something? Or the doctor?
