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Rowan
My life changedtwelve hours ago. As soon as the doctor told me I was with child, it felt like everything I thought I knew just vanished from my mind. The future I saw for myself, gone. The priorities I’ve upheld for a decade…just, poof!
I’m having a baby. I want to have a baby. I’m terrified, of course, but there’s a deep well of love already flowing inside me.
Ever since I came to Nord, I’ve been wondering if I missed something from life. I’ve tried so hard to be independent, to work my way to financial stability, to not be a burden on anyone—I’ve missed the connections that make life worth living.
I know I can’t have that connection with the Prince. He’s royalty. Having a child out of wedlock would be frowned upon, to say the least. I’m already plastered over every newspaper with a horde of reporters following me around.
I can’t be with the Prince. I know that now. It would be bad for the baby. I can’t let my child grow up with its face on newspapers. I need to give it some kind of stability, and I can’t do that here.
But I can have a connection with my grandmother. I can love this child with every bit of my heart and give it the best possible chance at a good life. For the first time ever, I understand my mother’s perspective.
Grandma was right—I wasn’t a burden, and my baby isn’t one, either.
Those realizations all hit me one after the other between the time the doctor told me I was pregnant and now, when I stand in front of the Prince and tell him the truth. They’ve only grown stronger as the minutes have ticked by.
I know what I need to do. I know I need to leave—not just for myself, but for the baby. So it has the best chance of a good, stable life.
I need to leave for the Prince, too. To save him from controversy, and to stop old wounds from splitting open. He can tell me that he’s moving on, but I know he still aches for his fiancée. Those shoes are too big for me to fill.
Right now, though, he’s staring at me like I’ve sprouted another head. Shock doesn’t even begin to cover it. The lips I love to kiss open and close again. His throat clenches and releases as he swallows, and his palm moves to rub the center of his chest.
“You’re…You’re pregnant?” He frowns, confusion written over every inch of his face.
I nod. “Yeah. About five weeks, apparently. So…The visitor’s cottage.”
“I thought you said…”
“I was wrong.” I inhale slowly, preparing myself to make the speech I’ve rehearsed all morning. Squaring my shoulders, I face the Prince. “I’m not expecting you to go public about it, and I’m prepared to keep you out of the baby’s life, if you prefer. I’ll go back to Farcliff to raise the baby. That way, the media attention will die down, and I’ll go back to my anonymous life. It’ll be better for the baby. No pressure. No controversy. No prejudice.”
Wolfe starts to say something, but I hold up my hand.
“I’m not giving this baby up. I’m not going to be ashamed of it, and I’m not going to do anything except love it and provide the best possible life I can for it.”
He stares at me, blinking two or three times. His eyes drop to my stomach, then slowly climb back up again. Wolfe nods, a slow breath passing through his lips. He rubs his forehead with his middle finger, gaze drifting off into nothing.
“You don’t want me involved?” His voice is small. Faraway. He’s hurt.
Ouch. My heart. This is harder than I thought it would be.
I take a deep breath, turning to glance out the window. “When I woke up this morning, there were a dozen reporters waiting outside my house. I had to rush to the car like some criminal hiding my face. That’s not the life I want for me or my child.”
“I wouldn’t want that life for you either,” Wolfe says slowly. “Those journalists are animals. Vicious, bloodthirsty jackals who only want to get a headline.”
I nod. “I’ve made arrangements to head back to Farcliff. My grandmother will come with me until she’s well enough to go back to the Summer Palace in the spring.”
“You’re leaving?” Pain cracks through his voice, sending agony spearing through my heart. Why is this so much harder than I thought? Leaving doesn’t seem so simple when the Prince looks like I just stabbed him in the chest.
I square my shoulders and nod. “If I stay, the rumors will only get worse.”
This morning, as I got ready, I decided I needed to go. Not just for the baby, but for me, too. I can’t stay in Nord, seeing the castle and the newspaper stories about the royal family without feeling my heart break. And I know the Prince and I can’t be together, so I have no choice.
But now, as I watch the Prince’s face crumple, it doesn’t feel right. I thought he’d understand. I thought he’d appreciate me leaving and not dragging him into a messy controversy. I thought he’d want me to go. I know how much he hates the media. How much Abby’s death hurt him. I thought I was doing him a favor.
Inhaling deeply, Wolfe takes slow steps toward me. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close. His hand climbs up my spine and tangles itself in my copper locks, and the Prince holds me tight.
My resolve weakens. He smells like home. His embrace feels like heaven—and I’m supposed to leave it behind?
