She would send him away, and he wouldn’t have to know. She could keep living in this space, where the baby was hers, and she did not have to deal with Alexandre’s resentment.
“Ines, I’m not sure…” Jonet bit her lip. “You know I’ll support you on anything. I’m on your side. But…heisyour husband and the father of the baby. And, perhaps most importantly, a king.”
The hardrapof knuckles on the door caused Ines to jump. She didn’t have time to think. To plan.
“We can pretend we’re not here,” Jonet whispered.
For a moment, Ines held on to that thought. They could avoid this. All of this.
But this moment was a stark reminder thathidingdid nothing but delay the inevitable. She could not pretend she wasn’t here—because he was. She could not keep this pregnancy from him any longer—because itexisted.
She had gotten her months of running away, wallowing, indulging in feelings and emotional responses, but she had known, deep down, that it could never bereallife.
Not with a baby on the way.
So it was a crystalizing moment. Alexandre on the other side of this door, knocking. Tracking her down. No doubt here tofetchher.
She’d run away thinking she was in charge. She wouldn’t let himcontrolher. She would live her life. For a while, it had felt like finding freedom after a lifetime of men controlling her.
But this wasn’t living. It was hiding. It was avoiding the hard things because they hurt to deal with. If she wanted to build a life for herself, rather than go along with what she’d always been told,hidingwas no answer. Maybe it was better than cowering or acquiescing, but it still wasn’t what she wanted.
She wasn’t fully surewhatshe wanted. Except to be a good mother. Something she’d never had. Her own mother had been negligent at best, dulling whatever pain she felt with alcohol or pills.
Hiding.
Ines would not hide and let her child deal with the fallout. No, she would always be the protector. Themother.
The pounding on the door started up again. Ines didn’t flinch this time. It was time to make a choice. Time to start being amother, not just a vessel.
“I’d like to speak to Alexandre alone, if you don’t mind, Jonet.”
“Of course. Shall I go to your room and pack your things?”
Ines inhaled deeply, let it out. “Yes, thank you.”
Chapter Six
ALEXANDREHAD THOUGHThe’d braced himself for seeing Ines again. He had expected to feel a spurt of rage over what she was keeping from him, but he’d also expected sometimeto prepare. He’dassumedJonet would answer the door.
Not his wife.
Her hair was pulled back, but not in her usual slick, elegant way. It was messy, strands falling out of the band. She wore something baggy and soft—not quite pajamas, but certainly not the kind of outfit a queen should wear inpublic.
It did nothing to undercut this moment of seeing her in the flesh for the first time inmonthsand realizing how much he’dmissedher. Looking at her across the dinner table. Listening to her chatter with Evelyne. The way she’d felt like such a seamless partner when they’d go over their schedules and determined who would handle what.
So for the past four months, essentially, he’d been alone again. Like before their engagement. When he’d felt his entire life was trying to mitigate his father’s violent whims—toward Alis, toward Evelyne, toward Alexandre himself.
It had been quiet and empty, and he had neverrealizedthat his life was mostly made up of those two things—not until Ines had been there by his side for a year and then not at all.
He curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch her. Assuring himself she was real. That she was what he was missing.
Because he was missing nothing. He was a king. He had a kingdom to serve. His own wants mattered not at all. He was a king, not a husband. Not a man.
No matter what Ines made him feel sometimes.
He was missingnothing. Except a good night’s sleep and the ability to be home, handling the responsibilities of hiskingdom. Because ofher.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” she said, with that old bland warmth that she’d trotted out before they were married. Sometimes even after. Like they were friends, but on a surface level. Acquaintances. Coworkers, maybe. She even gave a little curtsy.
