“Mommy, can I help?”
And just like that, my freaking world stops.
I stare down at Zayer as he stares up at me with those big blue-gray eyes. He’s called me Mama before, and that was atrip. It was sort of a one-and-done thing last week when we were on the boat. But Mommy? FuckingMommy?
Phaedra and Sabrina stop moving along with me, and I know I’m starting to cry because it’s hormones, but…Zayer just called me Mommy. Not Mama, but Mommy.
My voice cracks all over the place as I push out, “Of course, baby boy.”
Cue the sob, because it comes after I say that.
“Why are you crying like that?” Phaedra asks, her eyes wide with curiosity as she stands on her tiptoes, trying to see the contents of the mixing bowl.
“Zayer called me Mommy.”
“I know. I heard him.”
Oh, Phaedra. Always so exact and queenlike.
“It’s a big deal for me,” I tell her. “I’m not technically your mother, and I’d never ever want to replace the mama you had, but…I want you all to think of me as your second mama.”
“So, if we call you Mommy, is that different from Mama?” Sabrina questions, and I swear, my hormones are not strong enough to fend this off.
“It is. If you think of it that way.”
“Okay.” She shrugs because that’s Sabrina. Always go with the flow while creating havoc.
Phaedra isn’t ever so easily won, but she turns to me and stares straight up at me with those blazing green eyes of hers. “Mommy is different from Mama.”
I’m about to pass out.
I nod jerkily.
“I think I can call you Mommy and still know I had a mama.”
Oh shit. I’m a legit mess of tears. “You can.”
“Are you okay with that? Because you’re crying a lot so I’m not sure.”
“I’m so much more than okay with that. I would love for youall to call me Mommy if you’re okay with it. These are happy tears.”
“Okay. That’s what I’ll call you,” Phaedra says as if it’s not the biggest deal in the world. “Can I help?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” I reply, handing her a whisk and guiding her hand as we stir the thick batter together. I’ve forced myself to stop crying, but I want to run to the highest spire of the palace and scream from the rooftops that my stepchildren want to call me Mommy. I feel like that smacks the bitch out of every fairy tale stepmother in existence right there.
Sabrina and Zayer eagerly join in, each taking turns adding ingredients to the mix. Their laughter and excitement add to my own as we sing and dance and cook and bake. And this is why I don’t believe in the curse. Because if this family is cursed, how on earth did I get here and get so lucky? Impossible, right?
But as we work together in the kitchen, I can’t shake the thought of having a conversation with Sebastian about not hiring a new nanny. I agreed. Fully. Completely. I was one hundred percent on board.
But…over the last week, with everything that’s been happening, I’ve been with the children. And…I’ve felt like my old self again. The Bellamy I know. Not the one dancing around political opponents or dealing with the cattiness of other women.
I’ve been hanging out with the children. I’ve been playing with them and Arthur, who they can’t get enough of. I know Sebastian is under immense pressure lately, managing both his royal duties and his concern for my well-being after losing my dad. Bringing up the subject would only add to his stress, but the idea of sharing these precious times with someone else weighs heavily on me.
“Mommy, what’s next?” Sabrina inquires, snapping me out of my thoughts. Because I’m not sure their calling me Mommy will ever get old.
“Next, we thank our lucky stars that Margarite was willing to handle the lobsters, because I was not brave enough for that. But now that we have all the meat, we’ll make the lobster salad that we’ll put onto the rolls,” I announce, pulling out the ingredients and setting them on the counter. The children gather around, eager to assist, and I can’t help but smile at their enthusiasm.
“Can I butter the bread, Mommy?” Zayer asks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
