Page 6 of Wicked Queen

Nothing really mattered to me now but her and this baby's health. I didn't care about the secrets Alexander had kept. I didn't have room to stress about that in my life. There were more important things to consider. At least, I kept telling myself that. I only wished I believed it. “I don't know how I'm going to do this.”

It hurt to admit it, but I knew if anyone would understand it was Belle.

“Well, to start with, you aren’t going to do it alone,” she said.

So much for not talking about Alexander.

"I can't tell him," I said forcefully because she didn’t seem to be hearing me on this point. “He will make this stressful. He won't be able to keep himself from worrying. This is about the baby, not us. Alexander knowing will only make things worse than they already are.”

We weren’t just talking about the baby’s health anymore and we both knew it.

“Clara,” Belle said my name with some hesitation. “What happened?"

“You know.” But she didn’t and that was the problem.

"Something else is going on.” She took a deep breath and then rattled off the last question I expected from her. “Did he hurt you?"

“No! Nothing like that." I shook my head at the thought. "Alexander would never hurt me physically."

"Would he hurt you other ways?"

"Not intentionally." I knew what she was driving at. Both she and Edward worried about my often tumultuous relationship with Alexander and their concern had been mounting lately. “He doesn't seem to know how to be honest with me."

One of Belle’s expertly shaped eyebrows arched into a question mark. "It seems like you both have that problem."

"It's complicated." I was aware of how stupid that sounded. Yes, Alexander and I had more to worry about than your average couple, but, at the end of the day, should things be this hard between a husband and his wife? Belle didn't say anything as I stewed. "Maybe it shouldn’t be, but I don't know how to change it."

"It would help if you started talking about things." There was no recrimination in her voice — no edge of accusation. This was my best friend trying to remind me of a simple fact: if I wanted things to be less complicated, I should make them easier.

"Look,” she continued. “Alexander frustrates the shit out of me. He always has. Sometimes I don't know how you put up with him, but I'm sure people wonder the same thing about Smith." Her accompanying laugh was hollow. “You know why you love him. I’m just worried. You’re hurting. I can see that.”

"Love increases our tolerance for pain,” I whispered.

“Maybe it shouldn't," Belle echoed me earlier.

"It has to," I said. She didn't argue with me.

Love made people stronger. That much I knew. In a world where it was so much easier to hate, love was defiant. But love — true love — also broke hearts and tore people apart—then pieced them back together. We were all scar tissue masquerading as people. I'd seen Alexander's scars. The ones that marred his body and the ones that marked his soul. There had been no one around to love him through it then— to help put him back together. Under his strong body and dominant exterior he didn't have the layers of protection that loving him had given me. I’d developed a thicker skin with every lie and every secret. Every time a tabloid shared a vicious rumor that hit too close to the truth, I’d gotten stronger and with that strength, I’d shielded him. But maybe that was where I had gone wrong. I'd kept no secrets from him even while I guarded his from everyone else. We were caught in an endless cycle—my love protecting him from pain by enduring it myself. I’d fooled myself into believing that he carried the weight of the world but if we were going to be stronger together, we both had to change. I had secrets from him now—secrets that were going to hurt him. Secrets that could change everything. They were enough of a burden to carry. I couldn't carry his anymore.

I knew what I had to do.

"There's an estate outside of Windsor," I began. It was time to tell someone the truth.

Chapter 4

Alexander

I was waiting for Clara when she came home. It took every ounce of self-control I had—and I didn’t have much—to keep calm. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a doctor’s appointment?”

“You have more important things to do.” She kicked off her heels and headed toward the closet, her eyes studiously avoiding me.

“Nothing is more important to me than you.” I followed her inside, hovering by the door. She glanced at me warily, her gaze darting around me as she realized I’d trapped her inside. “I want to be there. I want to know about these things.”

My words landed like a bomb complete with a warning siren blaring in my head. That had been a mistake—a big one.

“I guess I’m keeping secrets. You must be rubbing off on me.” Clara kept her back toward me as she searched through a number of hanging garments.

Bringing up the doctor’s appointment had been stupid. If there was anything I needed to know about the pregnancy, she would tell me. I didn’t like that she’d left me out, because I wanted her to know it was important to me, too. But I knew she was making a point: she could give as good as she got.