His level of excitement borders on frightening.
“What?” Rhys asks, utterly shocked, and possibly not completely comprehending what he’s being told. “You’re pregnant?”
I drag my fingers along his temple and down his face. Memorizing it right now. Just like this. Because of all the ways I expected him to react, tears of joy weren’t on my list.
“Almost eight weeks,” I tell him and watch a slow hesitant smile transform into the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.
“Fucking hell yes,” Atticus chants and pumps his fist in the air.
“What?” I ask and push Rhys out of the way so I can see Atticus do a literal happy dance as he holds his phone up and tears spill from his eyes too.
“Look at your phones. The vote is in. They passed the amendment. Rhys doesn’t have to abdicate, and thanks to you, queen bee, I’m no longer second in line to the throne. Fuck yes. The world is good and kind and fair, and I don’t have to fucking rule it.”
He starts muttering under his breath as he walks away with the weight of an entire country lifted from his shoulders.
“Where are you going, brother?” Rhys calls out as he turns back to me.
Atticus looks over his shoulder, sweet relief reflecting back at us. “To the Seven Swords to celebrate. You coming with?”
My husband pushes my hair out of my eyes as his shine with so much love, I feel like my cup is overflowing. “No. I’ve got everything I need right here.”
I drag my teeth over my trembling lips and take a deep cleansing breath. “You get to keep your throne.”
“I do. But do I get to keep you? I promised if you gave me six months, I’d let you leave if you wanted an out, Bellamy. Are you still looking for that out?”
“There was never an out, Rhys. There was only ever going to be you and me at the end of those six months. I knew it in December. I know it now. And I’ll know it fifty years from now.” And something about voicing those words soothes my soul and settles my heart. “I can’t believe you were going to give up your crown for me.”
“I’ll spend my last breath on this earth telling you I love you, Bellamy. My crown meant nothing without you.”
“I love you, Rhys. I love you, and I love our life. I never thought I would, but my God, I do.” I swipe my finger through the butterscotch sauce, and Rhys licks it off my finger. “Want to get dirty so we can take another shower, my king?”
His eyes heat as he grabs the plate and my hand and leads the way.
BELLAMY
Respect can build a dynasty.
Trust can make it unbreakable.
Love can make it unending.
—Bellamy’s Secret Thoughts
Iwait under the portico behind Rosenhall Palace, anxiously counting down the seconds until the town car bringing Caitlin, Callen, and Anastasia here finally stops in front of Rhys and me.
“You’re vibrating, love,” my husband teases, like he’s been doing all week as our family and friends have arrived for the coronation.
Before I can answer him, my best friend throws open the car door, not bothering to wait for the footman to open it for her, and we both squeal as we throw our arms around each other. “I can’t believe you’re finally here.”
She runs her hands over my bump with a weepy smile. “You’re really pregnant.”
“So are you,” I cry and rest my hand on her bump before Callen gets out of the car with their daughter, Anastasia, sitting on his hip. “Oh my goodness. Look at you, baby.”
This little girl who changed our lives hides her face in her daddy’s shoulder. She’s barely one, but she’s already the spitting image of her mother. Callen wraps an arm around me in a hug, and I press my lips to Anastasia’s head. “I missed you so much.”
“Are we supposed to bow?” he asks with a cheeky grin.
“You’ve held my hair while I puked. I’m pretty sure we’re past bowing.” My smile hurts, it’s so big as I step back into Rhys’s arms and watch him greet my friends and charm the baby, which makes me ridiculously happy.
