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“Cheese! I wanna try,” Hope said.
Felicity was still looking for the strawberries. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she told Hope, who immediately looked to Rafael.
He had to admit that it felt good, the way she turned to him. They hadn’t known each other very long and Hope already knew she had him wrapped around her finger.
He wasn’t, was he? Rafael considered this as she locked eyes with the cheese display.
“Oh, all right,” he said, going over to get her one of the little squares. It was then that he noticed the sign—jalapeño cheddar. He already had the square in a small piece of paper in his hand, and went back to Hope. “I don’t know if you’ll like
this,” he said cautiously. “It’s spicy, because it has—”
Before he could finish the sentence, she’d grabbed the cheese out of his hand and popped it in her mouth.
One chew, then two…her expression changed, going from curiosity to disgust, and then she clapped her little hands over her mouth. “Spicy!” she shouted.
“Rafael told you it was spicy,” said Felicity, laughing a little. “Here. Spit it out, if you need to.” Felicity reached over and took the paper from Rafael’s hand, getting it back to Hope’s mouth just in time to catch the half-chewed piece of cheese.
Yes. An adventure.
They finally ended up by the strawberries, and that was when one of the store employees took the chance to approach. Rafael had no problem with this—anytime he made a public appearance like this, everyone was vetted ahead of time—and Hope was utterly delighted when the man offered to cut up a sampling of the strawberries for them to taste. Hope watched as he cut two strawberries into quarters, handing them to Rafael in a little plastic cup.
“More, please,” she said sweetly, and Rafael thought his heart would never recover. He put a slice of strawberry into her mouth and her eyes lit up.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” He had a bite of the strawberry himself. They were perfect.
Hope gestured to the cup, still with its slices inside. “Cupcakes,” she said solemnly, and Rafael knew exactly what she was asking.
“As soon as we get home, I’ll help you make strawberry cupcakes,” he promised. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Felicity smiling again.
Less than an hour later, they were out of the store and back at the castle. Rafael had a private kitchen in his apartments. It had gone mostly unused since he became the king, but now, with Hope perched on the counter and Felicity standing next to him, he wondered why he’d put it off so long.
“That was a success,” he said, pouring the cupcake mix into a large mixing bowl. Felicity had set out all the other ingredients—eggs, vegetable oil, milk—while Hope played with a set of measuring cups.
“I have to agree. I’m pretty proud of myself,” Felicity said, pretending to flip her hair back.
“It almost made me wish we could do that more often.”
Felicity laughed. “You don’t have time to do the grocery shopping.”
“I know it.” But still, this felt good. This wasn’t a photo op or a publicity stunt. This was just a man enjoying his daughter—and his daughter’s mother.
* * *
Somehow, the afternoon got away from them. By the time the cupcakes were baked, cooled, frosted, and eaten, Hope was rubbing her eyes. They’d had another tea party gathered around Rafael’s table, this time with the cupcakes they’d baked, and one thing had led to another until it was evening.
“Bedtime,” Felicity said, reaching for her daughter.
“No.” Hope pouted. “Rafael.”
He looked over from where he stood at the counter. “Did you call for me, sweetheart?”
“Go to bed,” Hope said, and Felicity didn’t miss the way Rafael lit up at the sight of it. He was there in an instant, lifting her out of her high chair and into his arms.
“I’ll take you to bed.” He glanced at Felicity for permission.
“Go right ahead.” Her heart had never been so warm…and so conflicted. It was one thing to be getting the hang of royal protocol. It was another to think about maintaining it for the rest of her life. What other pressures might they face? Could she stand it if, one day, Rafael wanted to go back to being married in public and living separate lives behind closed doors?
After he left, she stood in the empty kitchen, surveying the mess. It was all a sign of a very good time, and she hummed to herself as she filled the sink with warm water and tipped in the measuring cups one by one. This was nice, she thought to herself. It felt normal to be here, doing the dishes with all the time in the world. Plus, she’d get to lick the bowl.
