“Hey queen bee. Have you seen Rhys?” Atticus asks as he sits down next to me at the kitchen counter and eyes my sticky toffee pudding. “You gonna share the wealth?”
“Get your own,” I groan and pull my plate closer.
“Okay, down, killer. You’re not the only one allowed to eat your emotions, you know. I am waiting to find out if my whole world is going to change too.”
Shit.
I hadn’t thought about that. His entire life could be about to change because of Rhys’s decision… because of me.
“I’m sorry, Atticus. I hadn’t thought about that,” I admit.
He shrugs it off and grabs his own pudding. “I’ve known my role for as long as Rhys has known his. Rhys has been raised to rule this country and I’ve been raised to protect Rhys. Not like Vaughn does, but in some ways I like to think what I do is more important. I just never expected there would be a snowball’s chance in hell of it possibly meaning I’d end up sitting on the throne.”
“Would that be the worst thing in the world?” I’m not sure why I ask when I think I already know the answer.
“To be King? Left alone in this country, without a father I can trust, or a brother and sister nearby, because they would both be living in America?” He drags his fork through the pudding, making sure to get extra butterscotch soaking it through. “Yes. I think it would be the worst thing in the world. I’ve never wantedit, Bee. Don’t let Rhys fool you. He may hate the idea of having to conform to what the world expects from the King of Mornea, but that will be what makes him a great king. It’s not that he wants the power, it’s that he respects the job and the citizens of this country. He’s spent a lifetime preparing for it. That’s just not me.”
“I am sorry, Atticus.” I have no doubt it’s too little, too late, but my brother-in-law smiles like he always does, hiding more pain than I think most people realize.
He looks at my glass of milk and maybe notices the red rimming my eyes. “Need me to make you some coffee or something?”
Call me stupid, but that’s it.
That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
And I’m the fucking camel that just can’t take any more today. I’m at my emotional capacity and the tears come hard and fast and in big, hulking, fat streams down my cheeks.
“Holy shit, Bee... what... What did I say?” He looks at me like I’m a little green alien standing in front of him and he has no idea what to do or say to me. “I didn’t mean to lay that all on you. I?—”
“It’s not that,” I sob. Like actually sob because I can’t control it.
I’m not even sure I’m trying at this point.
My chest shakes and my hands tremble and the tears won’t stop…
“What the fuck did you do?” Rhys roars as he storms in the room and puts himself between Atticus and me, like he thinks he needs to protect me from his brother. The one person in the world who would probably stand toe to toe with me to protect my husband from the world. And that thought makes me cry harder. “What’s wrong, love? Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, unable to form words as a heavy sob gets caught in my throat, choking me.
“You’re scaring me, Bellamy.” Rhys bends his knees, bringing himself eye level to me, and there’s so much love shining right there in the depths of those sapphire blues.
All of our phones buzz at the same time, but none of us move an inch to check them.
“Little bee . . .”
His voice wraps around me like a weighted blanket, soothing and solid and so damn strong. But is he strong enough for this? Am I? Is Atticus?
“Rhys... I went to the doctor this morning?—”
His hands gently wrap around my head. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together. We’ll get through?—”
“Stop, Rhys... I’m not sick.” Fuck. I don’t even know how to say this. I don’t know how he’ll react. I don’t know if this news will make everything that’s happening even worse.
“I wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant. Little to no chance. That’s what I’ve been told since I was fifteen. I never let myself focus on that because I got to live. I got to be healthy and live. I could adopt if I wanted kids. And to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t even sure if kids were in the cards for me. You had to have a boyfriend long enough to want to have that talk, and I never dated a man worth?—”
“I’m trying to follow you here, Bellamy, but if you start talking about other men, I may throw you over my shoulder and take you somewhere I can make you forget any other man ever existed before me,” he grumbles and Atticus moves in next to him.
“Real smooth, you wanker. She’s trying to tell you she’s pregnant. Even I figured that out.” A moment passes before Atticus’s eyes light up with… is that relief I see shining there? “And do you know what that means?”
