Birdie scooted closer to me so she could peer over my shoulder as I paged through the book. “I picked that up for you after our Thanksgiving dinner,” she said into my shoulder. “I thought it might be a nice addition to your collection.”
I blinked back my own tears at her thoughtfulness and the way she had remembered what I had told her about my dad. “Thank you, my love,” I whispered, pulling her into my chest.
I was ready to show her my appreciation in the best way possible when I glanced at the clock.
“Baby,” I said, pulling back from her, “I have about a hundred different ways I plan to worship this body of yours later today, but right now we will be toast if we don’t make it up to the palace for Christmas breakfast.”
Birdie threw back her head laughing. “All right, but don’t think I’m letting you forget that plan,” she said. She planted a kiss on my forehead and climbed out of bed.
“Never,” I growled, telling my dick to calm down as I watched her pull clothes out of her suitcase. “I do have one more thing I need to discuss with you while we get dressed, though.”
Thirty minutes later, we were on our way back to the palace, Birdie tucked under my arm. I gazed at the expansive building fully bedecked for Christmas and considered all the things this place had been to me over the years. First, my best friend’s home. Later, my own home, though those memories were all colored through heartache. And finally, the place where I fell in love with the woman beside me—my fiancée.
While we dressed, I had told her about Oliver’s job offer. I knew I owed him an answer, but also knew that I couldn’t make this important decision alone. Not anymore.
I smiled as we walked, feeling peace with the decision Birdie and I had made together and excitement at giving Oliver my acceptance. As Birdie and I had talked, I realized that my reluctance to be a working royal had faded. I wasn’t sure if Iwould want to keep the job forever, especially once we decided to grow our family, but for now, I would embrace the change and the adventures it would bring. After all, I reminded myself, being a part of the royal family had already brought me the best thing: a love to last a lifetime.
FIVE YEARS LATER
I awoke to a small kiss being placed on my cheek. Rolling over, I was met with Knox’s crystal blue eyes, except they were smaller and bright with excitement.
“Mommy. Up, it Christmas.”
Our beautiful little two-and-a-half-year-old Holland Noelle stood by my side of our bed, dressed in snowman footie pajamas, dancing in place with eagerness for Christmas morning and what awaited us in the family room downstairs. I couldn’t blame her for her excitement; this was the first Christmas that she really understood what was going on. She had asked every single night for three weeks if Christmas was in the morning. It took Knox and me an extra hour last night after we got home from Archer’s house to get her settled down and tucked into bed because she couldn’t contain her excitement for what the morning brought.
“Good morning, Holly,” I smiled as I brushed a wild strand of her dark hair out of her face.
She pushed my hand away and climbed up into our bed, lifting the comforter to look for Eugene, who was curled into a ball at my feet.
“Genie?” Her voice was muffled by the covers. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Her nickname for Eugene melted my heart every time she said it. My happiness with my child quickly dissipated when she kicked me in my ribs and then rolled back and forth on the bed in a fit of laughter, her legs going wild and kicking anything they came in contact with.
“Daddy! Stop! No tickle!”
Knox’s side of the bed bumped up and down with his laughter and Holly kicking and laughing. Eugene crawled up the length of my body and jumped off the bed, not wanting to be a part of the tussle. He loved snuggling Holly and was her fiercest guardian, but when it came time to wrestle and play, he was no longer about that in his old age.
A large, calloused hand wound around my middle and pulled me in for a family cuddle, one of my favorite things in this world.
“Merry Christmas, Henderson ladies,” Knox’s scruffy morning voice said as he rubbed a slow circle on top of my stomach.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” I responded.
“Presents?!” Holly asked.
“Let’s go see if your cousins and Grandpa are awake,” Knox told her.
After going to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and taming the wild mess of hair on top of my head, I descended the large staircase of our renovated manor.
Knox and I had flown to Mykonos, Greece, where his parents had vacationed often, and had a sweet, intimatewedding ceremony with our family. Neither of us had wanted a big expensive wedding. All we wanted was to be married and start our lives together.
King Leroy and Queen Isobel had generously gifted us this old manor as a wedding present. It had badly needed an overhaul, and although it took Knox three years to finish all of the renovations, he had worked day and night the final few months, making sure that it would be ready to bring home Holland and that we would have the perfect oasis for our family. I had offered many times to help him, having done odd jobs around my apartment in New York. But he refused to let me do any handiwork, reminding me of the first night we met. I stuck to painting and hanging the art.
I wouldn’t have been upset if the manor hadn’t been ready, though. Some days I missed the tiny cottage at the palace and all the memories it held. But this home was perfect. It was everything we both wanted. The perfect home for us.
I padded down the long hallway toward the back of the house that held the family room and kitchen. Christmas music and pots and pans clanging together let me know that the house was awake and Christmas morning was in full swing. My cheeks ached from the smile that graced my face.
“Holland, get away from those presents until your mom gets down here,” Knox’s baritone voice chided.
That daughter of ours was on a mission this morning.
