And I don’t know what I’ll do if he does.
25
BELLAMY
The contractions stopped on their own and they released me from the hospital the next day. Sebastian stayed with me and wouldn’t leave my side, but there’s a fissure between us. A crack neither one of us knows how to fill. Part of me thinks we just need time. That if we can just hit an easy patch, it’ll all come back together.
I came home toWelcome Home, Mommysigns and lots of hugs and snuggles and kisses to the belly. Sebastian told them they had to take it easy on me. Rowan seems to be keeping his distance, and I wonder what Sebastian said to him. Rowan never believed in the curse before, but I think he’s been converted to the dark side.
It’s not who I am. It’s not how I want to live my life.
And I have to find a way to make it better for everyone, to prove to them that there is no curse.
Which is why two days later when my ankle is back to normal, I’m pushing myself to be as well. I’m fully aware that I’m living under an umbrella of denial. I haven’t entered my father’s suite since his death. I avoid that part of the palace like the plague. But I refuse to believe that the things that have beenhappening to us are part of some unseen, nefarious force when life happens to everyone.
It’s been a really rough few months is all, but amid that, there’s also been magic.
The children are happy and thriving. They love Arthur. The twins are healthy and looking good. So even with the bad, there is good, and I refuse to overlook the good in favor of the bad.
With that, I agreed to meet with Charlotte.
Sebastian is all over me to take care of myself, and while I want to be the mom who does it all, I know I can’t if I want to have a healthy pregnancy and start the scholarship in my father’s name.
So here I am.
About to meet a woman who could potentially move into the palace and into our lives.
It’s with that thought in my head that I hesitate at the heavy oak door, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. A part of me still resists the idea of bringing a stranger into our home. But Sebastian’s not-so-gentle insistence that we need help is becoming harder to ignore.
“It’s just a meeting,” I mutter under my breath, reaching for the ornate doorknob of Sebastian’s study and turning it.
“Ah, Your Majesty!” A cheerful voice greets me as the door swings open to reveal a woman in her early thirties with a kind smile and twinkling gray eyes. She curtsies—far better at it than I ever was—and then extends her hand. “I’m Charlotte. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello,” I say, shaking her hand and finding my smile is more natural than I thought it would be. There is something about her warmth that instantly puts me at ease. “Please call me Bellamy. I hope you weren’t kept waiting long.”
“Not at all. I was just looking over these amazing books. I’m assuming they’re all first editions.”
“They are.” Then I laugh. “Actually, when I first met the king, he caught me red-handed flipping through one.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. I’m assuming by your tone that didn’t go over too well.”
“Nope. Not at all.”
She laughs. “I met him once when I was younger, maybe twelve or so. I doubt he remembers, but I remember telling my father that he was the most intimidating man I had ever seen, and that was saying a lot considering who my father is.” After the words rush out, she immediately slaps a hand over her mouth and blushes. “I’m so sorry. I hope that didn’t come out as rude or disrespectful.”
I shake my head, waving her off. “Not at all. He was definitely the most intimidating man I had ever met.”
“Oh good.” She laughs and shakes her head in a self-deprecating way. “You know what I meant.”
“I do. Would you like something to drink? Some water, tea, or coffee?” I ask as we sit down, noticing how easygoing she seems to be.
“Tea sounds lovely, thank you,” she replies and freezes when I stand. “Oh wait. You’re the queen. Shouldn’t I be getting the tea?”
“I like doing it,” I assure her, going over to the bar Sebastian has in here and making her a cup, then getting myself a water because caffeine makes my heart race like I’m running a marathon now.
As I pour her tea, I can’t help but study her. I’ve read her résumé, and though she’s about ten or so years older than me, our backgrounds are very similar. College and teaching English in a foreign country after being raised by a single dad. There’s something about that that endears her to me a little.
“So, tell me about your experience working with children,” I prompt, handing her the porcelain cup.
