“I hope so.”
Bellamy stands before me, her chin on the center of my chest as she stares up at me. “You’re a great man, father, and king. I hope you know that.”
“You’re an incredible woman, mother, and queen. I hopeyouknow that.”
“I’m working on it.”
I smile and press my lips to hers. “Are you ready?”
“No,” she says simply. “But I don’t think I ever will be.”
I remove the biodegradable box from the bag I carrieddown here. Inside the box is a biodegradable bag of his ashes. Her breath hitches when she sees the box, her eyes immediately filling with tears.
“I can’t do it.”
“I can, if you wish.”
She gives me a shaky nod, and I take her hand and walk us to the water’s edge. I kneel down and hold the box over the water.
Bellamy kneels beside me, her body trembling. “Bye, Dad. I love you.” A sob escapes her, and she shakes her head. “Just do it. I can’t…I can’t handle this.”
“Joseph Wright, thank you for giving me your daughter. For all you’ve done for her since the moment she was born. You may be gone, but you will never be forgotten. Rest in peace.”
I glance over to Bellamy, who gives me a jerky nod, and I set the box in the water and give it a firm shove so it drifts out to sea. I take her in my arms, and we sit here, watching it float away as Bellamy cries. I can only hope this is the beginning of her healing and not the start of something darker for her.
18
SEBASTIAN
It’s been three weeks since Bellamy’s father passed, and though she’s improving, there is still a dark cloud that looms heavily over her, refusing to leave. She tries, but I see it in her eyes. I feel it when I touch her. She can’t shake her crushing grief, and I have to do something.
I stand with Rowan and Althea on the third floor of the library, looking around at what’s been done. What once were towering shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls have been replaced with shorter stacks of both children’s books and books Bellamy loves. I went through her e-reader and purchased everything there plus any books that were similar.
Then I had the designers create a play space for children and sealed up the open access to the main library below. The play space is filled with toys for children of all ages and includes an arts and crafts corner, a motor space, a swing, and other things Phaedra promised were very cool—her words, not mine.
I also redid the sitting area by the fireplace. It’s now filled with comfy rocking chairs, a crib, overstuffed sofas, and even a small dining area. I want this to be a place where Bellamy canbring the twins or any of our children to play, relax, and have fun. Bellamy can read a book and sit by the fire while the children play or even take a nap.
I think she’ll love it.
But I also wanted a place that would be just for her, so I created a large reading nook and office away from the main space that has a sliding door for her own privacy.
“When do you show it to her?” Rowan asks, dropping down on the sofa and kicking his feet up on the soft leather ottoman.
“Tonight.”
“Sebastian,” Rowan begins, his voice steady but tinged with concern, “I know you’re doing everything you can for Bellamy, but she needs more help than either of us can provide right now.”
“I know,” I agree. “If this doesn’t work, I’m taking everyone on vacation. I need to snap her out of this before she’s in over her head with it. It’s not the mourning or the grief, it’s the depression that worries me.”
“A vacation might be a nice thing to do,” Althea chimes in. “Phaedra starts her school break on Monday. But what if that doesn’t help her?”
I shrug helplessly. “Therapy, I suppose.”
Althea nods in agreement, her wise eyes filled with sadness. “Yes. That might be what she needs. We all want to support Bellamy, especially during this difficult time. Have you considered hiring a nanny to help care for the children? Take some of that burden from Bellamy?”
I hesitate, my heart torn between wanting to ease Bellamy’s burden and fearing that she might see the suggestion as a sign of weakness or failure on her part. I glance at the window where the sun plays upon the glass, reflecting prisms of light onto the floors.
“We’ve managed without a nanny so far,” I muse aloud, my voice tinged with uncertainty. “When she became queen, Imentioned that to her, and she told me she wanted to raise the children herself as much as she could.”
