After a minute, she murmured, “How are you?”
“Okay. I saw my father.”
When he didn’t respond further, she gently prodded him. “And? How is he? I messaged your mother, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“I’m not surprised.” He inhaled deeply once more. “We need to talk.”
Her face turned to shock. “Your father hasn’t…he’s not…”
“No! No, he’s fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you about that. I do have news to share with you, but it’s not that.”
She sagged in relief against his chest. “Oh. That’s good. I’m so glad he’ll be all right.”
“Come, darling. Have you eaten anything today?”
“A snack, but I’m not hungry. Oh, but I’ll eat with you if you’d like something.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not hungry either. Maybe at family dinner tonight. Let’s make some tea at least before we talk.”
“That serious?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, then moved to her heels and slipped them on again.
He grasped her hand and led her out of their bedroom. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as they made their way to their kitchen.
“Why don’t I make it?” she asked, and it was so like her. She was always ready to help or lend a hand where she could.
“I’ll do it. The routine of it will help me right now. Meet me in our sitting room.”
She nodded and rubbed a hand down his arm in comfort before leaving.
His wife was picky about her tea, and he was proud to say he could finally make it just as she liked it. Oh, she’d drink anything if someone else made it, but she was always precise when making it for herself and it needed to have the right tea-to-milk ratio. After making a pot and adding it to a tray with all the cups and accoutrements, he added a few pastries, just in case, and picked up the tray.
He headed down the hall to the cozy room they spent time in nearly every night. It was the smallest of their sitting rooms, but he loved it. There was just enough space for a few very comfortable chairs, a plush sofa, and a tv and entertainment system. He found her in her ‘spot’ on the sofa, leaning back and checking her phone.
She smiled again—his smile—when he down the tray on the massive ottoman that doubled as a table sometimes. “I’ll pour.”
He wanted to serve her a perfect cuppa, but let her take the lead. She was wearing a sleeveless, knee-length black dress, the matching jacket discarded on a chair nearby. He watched as she leaned over to pour and gently rubbed a hand down her back while she did, needing the connection. As she handed him a cup, he wondered how to start the conversation.
They sat, slowly and silently sipping, for a few minutes before he began. “My father…he’s decided to retire sooner than expected.”
It took her a second to realize that ‘retire’ meant abdicate, which meant Alex would become king, which also meant that she would become queen. He saw when she made the connection and the cup started slipping in her hand.
He reached over to grab it and set it on the tray. “Darling?”
Her mouth was open slightly and she was staring into the distance but not focused on anything in particular.
“Darling? I know it’s a lot to take in.”
She turned to face him. “I’m…I’m going to become queen? Are you sure?”
He couldn’t help but smile. “You already are a queen—myqueen. Now you’ll be the country’s too.”
“Holy shit.”
He let out a bark of laughter. Is this how he’d looked and acted to his father earlier? “My sentiments exactly.”
