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Epilogue
Rowan
AcceptingWolfe’s love is a kind of release I’ve never experienced before. Throughout my pregnancy, I thought I understood my mother’s decisions. I understood that I wasn’t a burden to her, but I still held onto my need for independence.
What I realize with Wolfe is that independence doesn’t have to mean being alone. I can be with him—and accept all the support that comes with being associated with the royal family—without feeling like I’m leeching off him.
Because I’m giving him something, too—love. Companionship. Partnership.
It’s just like my relationship with my mother. I didn’t realize that she was getting love and fulfillment from me, even though she had to work hard to provide for me. Relationships aren’t about carrying another person—they’re about leaning on each other and being stronger together than you ever could be alone, no matter how independent you think you are.
Wolfe’s strength is something I desperately need as we stay in the hospital and wait for our son to recover. The first time I hold him in my arms, Wolfe is beside me. His eyes shine as he watches me and the baby, and I know this moment is even more special with him beside me.
I run my fingers over the baby’s soft, black hair, laying a kiss on his forehead. He’s so small. So incredibly beautiful.
“What do you want to name him?” Wolfe asks, putting a palm on the baby’s back. His hand is so big it covers our son’s entire body, and I’m reminded just how tiny he really is.
I shake my head, sighing. “I don’t know. I thought I’d have a name when I saw him, but nothing happened the way I planned.” Glancing at Wolfe, I arch my brows. “I think we should choose a name together.”
Wolfe rewards me with a brilliant smile. It reaches from ear to ear and warms my heart. He leans over and kisses my lips, letting out a long sigh.
“Together sounds good,” he says, brushing his lips over my temple. “Always together.”
Wolfe climbs into the hospital bed beside me, wrapping the baby and me in a strong arm. In his embrace, I feel safe and protected—and happy.
We nameour baby boy Wren, after seeing a bird flit from tree to tree outside the hospital window. I lean my head against Wolfe’s shoulder, smiling. “That’s a beautiful bird,” I say, looking at the bird tilt its head as it looks through the window.
“It’s very far north for a wren, even this time of year,” Wolfe says, watching the bird.
We exchange a glance, smile, and understand each other.
“You know male wrens build a number of nests, waiting for a female to choose one?” Wolfe says, hooking his arm around my shoulder.
I run my fingers through Wren’s thin, newborn hair, smiling. “Do they?”
“Uh-huh.” Wolfe nods. “Kind of feels like what I’ve been doing. Waiting for you.”
“Except I’m the one who designed our nest.” I grin.
“You want to stay at the Summer Palace?” Wolfe’s eyebrows jump. “I assumed you’d want to be in the city.”
“The Summer Palace is the first place that’s felt like home,” I say, laying a soft kiss on Wren’s head. I can’t stop kissing him and running my hands over his soft newborn skin.
Wolfe lets out a low growl, pulling me into his chest. I know what that growl means—it means I’ve just made him very happy. I’ve chosen a nest—the Summer Palace, with Wolfe by my side.
We marryin a quiet ceremony a month later, only releasing a few pictures to the media. I’m exhausted, but happy, still sore from the birth and running on too little sleep. Tucked away at the Summer Palace, we insulate ourselves from any gossip and articles, caring only about each other and our son.
It’s not a problem. The few snippets of news I see are mostly positive, congratulating us and praising the Prince for overcoming his grief. The opening of the visitor’s cottage museum helps the public image, and I see it as my first offering to Nord. Hopefully, in my life, I’ll be able to offer much, much more to the land that made me feel complete.
Grandma stays with us, cooing over Wren and smiling at me every chance she gets. Vikki falls in love with the baby, too, volunteering to babysit any chance she gets. She sings to Wren and puts him to sleep faster than I ever can, and I’m grateful for her help.
On one cool autumn day, when the sky is clear and the air is crisp, Wolfe asks Vikki to take care of the baby. He takes me by the hand and brings me to the garages, a grin teasing his lips. My heart flips, and I know I’ll never tire of seeing him smile. My husband—husband!—hops into a truck, clicking his fingers for Chief to jump in the back.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, smiling.
“Shh,” Wolfe says. “Just enjoy it.”
I use his help to get in the passenger seat—my body still feels weak, even months after my operation. I let the drive lull me to a shallow sleep, only opening my eyes when Wolfe stops the car.
