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The Prince pulls away, cupping his hands on either side of my face. “Is that what you want? You want to leave?”
“It’s what’s best for me and the baby…and you.”
His breath trembles. Brows draw together as his gaze shifts from one eye to the other. “But is it what you want?”
“Wolfe…”
“You can’t say my name like that—like it means something to you—and pretend you want to leave.”
“What choice do I have? What are you going to do, marry me? Keep me locked up in this castle and call me your princess for the rest of my life? That’s not what I want for my life, Wolfe. You know that. I want to be able to stand on my own.”
Dropping his hands from my face, the Prince backs away. He nods, turning his face away from me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s too much to ask of you. You have a business and a life in Farcliff.”
“It’s better if I leave. It makes things easier for you, too.”
“How would you know that?” His eyes cut to mine.
I don’t answer. What can I say?
The Prince inhales deeply, rapping his knuckles on the desk. He chews his lip and finally nods. “You’re right. It’s safer for you in Farcliff. I already lost Abby.” His eyes lift to mine. “I can’t lose you, too. I’ll make sure you have everything you need for the baby.”
Why does that hurt to hear? He says it like I’m asking for his money. Like I came here begging for a few coins to rub together.
I shake my head. “I don’t want your money, Wolfe.”
“That baby is mine, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“And what happens when the media finds out? It’ll be a lot worse than one article and a few paparazzi outside my house.” I shake my head. “This has to be a clean break, Wolfe. I have to leave. You have to let me go.”
“So that’s it, then? You inform me you’re the mother of my child and then tell me it’s over?”
“What’s over, Wolfe? Sneaking around behind closed doors? Pretending we’re not together whenever we leave this room?”
Tension ripples between us. I square my shoulders as pain shatters across my chest. This morning, leaving seemed logical. The best, most painless thing to do. Better for me, and the baby, and the Prince.
But right now, with him looking at me like I’ve just ripped his heart out of his chest, it doesn’t seem so good. I turn away, staring at the wall. My eyelids burn, but I refuse to cry. I will not cry. I can’t. If tears fall from my eyes, my resolve will weaken.
I need to leave. I need to be on my own and have my independence. I need to keep my child’s life free from controversy and the pressure of the media.
When my mother died, I vowed I’d take care of myself no matter what. That I wouldn’t rely on anyone. I wouldn’t be a burden. How can I turn around and stay here? How can I put this problem on Wolfe’s shoulders? How can I ask anything from him except to let me go?
And why does it make me want to cry until it hurts to breathe?
I turn to look at him in all his muscled glory. Crisp, white shirt tailored perfectly over his broad frame. Dark, slightly curly hair. Pale amber eyes like warm honey that made me fall in love with him the moment I saw them across from me.
In three steps, I could be in his arms. I could nuzzle against his skin and tear his clothes off, begging him to take me right here. I could ask for his forgiveness and tell him I’ll stay. He doesn’t have to marry me, or admit to being with me, or claim to be the father of my child. I’ll be happy with whatever scraps of attention he’s willing to give me if it just means being near him for one more minute. One more second.
But my feet stay glued to the floor, and my pride keeps me from dropping to my knees. I lift my chin up, knowing I can’t ask him to take care of me. I can’t beg him to love me. I can’t let him carry me through life when I know I can walk on my own.
My mother showed me exactly how strong I need to be to do this. I’ll take care of my baby, even if it kills me just as it did her.
This child isn’t a burden. It’s not a controversy, or a scandal, or a royal bastard to be splayed across the kingdom’s headlines.
This baby is my gift, and I’ll cherish it, even if it means saying goodbye to the Prince.
“Will you let me meet the baby, at least?” Wolfe’s voice is low. His brows are drawn together and damn it, my heart just shatters right there in my chest.
I won’t cry. I can’t cry. I need to be strong, to follow this through to the end and make sure I do what’s best for my child.
I should say no. I should tell him it’s a bad idea—his every move is tracked and photographed. How could we do it without fresh headlines being penned?
Call me weak, but I just can’t make my head shake. Instead, I just dip my chin down. “Maybe.”
Wolfe’s hands ball into fists as his teeth grind together. Amber eyes pour all their hurt and pain and anger into me, and I accept it all. I drink it up, because on some level, I think I deserve it.
Then he blinks, and the emotion is gone. “Okay. If that’s what you want. Goodbye, Rowan.”
I watch him walk out of the office, leaving the door open so I can listen to his fading footsteps.
