Evelyn's eyes started to water. “It’s really easy to feel isolated when you’re dealing with infertility,” she said as put back the papers in her journal. “I felt so alone in those early years as queen. And then add on all the pressure to produce an heir, those feelings of loneliness, of feeling unworthy and broken, were only amplified.”
All I could do was nod through my tears, because I knew exactly what that felt like.
“You, my dear girl”—she grabbed my hand—“are deserving of happiness, and you are valuable regardless of what you feel right now. I know you may want to run away and lick your wounds alone, but that's what this disease wants you to do. It wants you to hide and feel like no one understands. It wants you to feel damaged and defective. But you aren’t.”
Evelyn stood, moving to sit on the edge of my bed. She cupped my cheek and placed a kiss on my head.
“I am not here to minimize those feelings. Those are valid feelings and emotions you need to process. But you don’t have to do that alone. The patriarchy wants you to feel broken and like you’re less of a woman. But you’re not. You are stronger than you believe. You bring so much more to the table than just a uterus to bear children. You bring empathy, you bring insight to the world that many in my family don’t have. Your desire to make sure everyone around you is taken care of is a gift. You fight for justice, and I don’t want to see that wasted because you don’t believe you are worthy.”
My body shook with sobs as her affirmations washed over me. I wanted to believe them; I knew in my heart they were true.
“Regardless of what you choose to do, I want you to know that you don’t have to do this alone, my dear. You’re never alone.” She reached her arms out and I fell into them, letting her rub my back as I cried.
After I had finally run my tears dry, I squeezed Evelyn tightly and thanked her for her words, support, and understanding. I was lucky and so grateful to have her in my corner.
She made her way to the door to leave but stopped right before she opened it.
“Francis was there with me through it all. He never once made me feel like I was less of a queen or a woman because we lost our babies.” She shook her head. “No, he stayed with me through every high and low of it. Every time I grew worried that I was losing Leroy, he held my hand through it. He would call the palace midwife in the early hours to bring the doppler in—and that was quite a feat back in those days—so I could hear the heartbeat and find somecomfort in knowing the baby was okay. He never made me feel crazy or like I was overreacting. And he never made me think that I couldn’t be a good queen because of my fertility issues. Oliver would do the same. He loves you and will stand by you through it all. This disease may have taken some things from you, but Oliver does not have to be one of them.”
And with that, Evelyn opened the hospital suite door and left.
I blinked myself awake, surprised that I had drifted off even for just a few minutes. Shifting in the hospital’s waiting room chair, I found my back and neck unbelievably stiff.Well, you certainly aren’t twenty-one anymore,I mused to myself as I slowly moved my head to one side and then the other.
Steffan sat two chairs away, quietly working on a crossword puzzle while keeping one eye on the hospital staff passing by. I had convinced Faxon to let Steffan relieve him for a few hours so he could get some rest. Even though he had finally relented, I had a feeling he hadn’t gone far; he had likely convinced the nurses to let him crash in one of the on-call rooms.
“Would you like me to call for some coffee or some food, Your Majesty?” Steffan asked. “I’m sure we can procure you a shower as well if you’d like.”
“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t a hint, Steffan,” I said wryly. “I’ll get some coffee in a bit, thank you though.”
One side of Steffan’s mouth tipped up as he nodded,pulling out his phone, no doubt to text Faxon that I was awake.
Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Faxon rounded the corner holding a drink carrier with three hospital coffee cups. He handed the first one to me, and the second to Steffan as he rose—I mentally berated myself for not even considering earlier that he had likely needed the caffeine as well. It had been a long day for all of us.
“Thank you, Faxon,” I murmured before I took a sip. It wasn’t the best coffee in the world, but it would do the trick.
Faxon nodded, taking the seat Steffan had just vacated. He eyed me for a moment before saying, “Countries. Letter T.”
Faxon had been my personal security guard for over a decade, and at some point, we had developed a game wherein one person named a category and a letter of the alphabet, and the other person had to name as many items in that category starting with that letter as they could. I knew now that he was trying to distract me from worrying about Adelaide, but I was also grateful to him. He wouldn’t push me to talk things out or try to make me go home; instead, he would simply sit with me and offer what diversion he could while we waited.
After about half an hour, I was stalled out on animals beginning with W when the sound of Gram’s cane floated down the corridor. A few moments later, she rounded the corner, the sheen of recently shed tears in her eyes.
I rose, wrapping her small frame in my arms. “How is she?” I asked.
Gram patted my back. “I think she’s going to be just fine. Why don’t you go on in and see for yourself?”
I drew back, taking in the force that was my grandmother. “Thank you for coming.”
She reached up and placed her cool hand on my cheek. “Thank you for calling me. Now, go get your girl.”
I pressed a kiss to the back of Gram’s hand before racing down the hall to Adelaide’s room.
After knocking on the door, I opened it just wide enough to poke my head in. “Can I come in?”
Adelaide was sitting up in bed, dressed in a fresh pair of pajamas. She looked tired but much better than even just a few hours before.
I closed the door before closing the space between us, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. “Hey,” I started. “Are you?—”
She held up a hand to stop me. “Ollie, wait. I have something to say first.” She took a deep breath. “You were right when you said what happened was traumatic. It was, but not just for me. I can only imagine how scary it was for you, too. But I need to believe you and trust you to know what you can handle. There’s this voice inside me that keeps trying to convince me that I’m better off facing all this alone, that I don’t deserve the joy you bring to my life every single day. But a very wise woman just helped me realize that that voice is a liar.”
