“Yes. I haven’t ordered cribs or bassinets. Nothing. We’ve been getting gifts”—she pans her hand toward the stack of packages in the corner—“but I haven’t opened anything yet.”
“They’re your babies. What do you want for their first bedroom?”
I get a wan smile. “I want my dad here, but that’s not an option. I love to read. I love books. I think I know what I want inhere and what I don’t, but I think I need a second opinion and maybe help with a color scheme.”
I nearly laugh. “Your Majesty, you are the queen. It’s okay to use designers if you think they’d help.”
“I know. But it’s not me.”
I give her a reassuring look. “I get it. Let’s go over what you want first. Then we can focus on the other things. Do you mind if I ask why this room isn’t near yours?”
She looks away. “Nora’s suite was the room next to this one.”
“Oh—” I cut myself off. Meaning she and the king didn’t share a room.
Did the king love her? The whole notion of him becoming a beast stems from him being racked with grief following Nora’s death. I know that’s not true. He hid out because of the curse. But to hear they didn’t share a bedroom? Did he know about Nora’s affair? Was he having one of his own? Did he care either way?
Why couldn’t he just put his jealousies aside and let Samil keep Nora? None of this would have happened. None of us would be here in this mess.Iwouldn’t be here in this mess.
“Do you know what you’re having?” I redirect.
“A boy and a girl. We’re going to name the little boy Joseph for my father.”
“I love that.” And I do. I can’t imagine ever having children. I’m not sure people like me get to be mothers. “Two cribs, I take it?”
“Yes. At least we should do two, I think.” She paces toward the wall and leans against it. “I’m new at this.”
“I’m sorry to say, but I’m not anymore experienced.” I walk over to her and stand beside her, mimicking her position.
“Baby clothes. Baby things. There’s so much to learn and get.”
“I’m sure the king can help with that.”
“He does. But as I said, he’s superstitious. Or nervous. I don’t know.”
Or just a jerk who wants no part of planning for more children. I doubt he helped the first time, selfish ass that he is.
“Tell me about your dream nursery for your babies. Rocking chairs, an adult bed for you and the king, bookshelves, themes…”
“All of that.” She laughs. “Tomorrow I’ll order furniture and have it all set up. As for a theme, I thinkLe Petit Prince.”
I tilt my head to her. “Pardon.”
“My father read me that book a million times growing up. I want the different planets and stories and words of wisdom The Little Prince encounters spread throughout the room.” She looks at me, her nose scrunched. “Is that lame?”
I give her a reassuring smile. “Not at all. I love that. What if you painted the ceiling like a night sky with tons of glowing stars?”
“I like that idea. I don’t want the room to be dark, so the ceiling is a cool idea. Roses are a big thing in that book, so those would be pretty on the walls too.”
“It sounds like you know what you want.”
She beams at me, her eyes sparkling. “I guess I do. Sometimes I have to talk things out. For now, maybe we should open the boxes of gifts and see what we have to work with.”
“Let’s do it. You open them, I’ll take notes on who sent what.”
“Perfect.”
For the next hour, we work side by side, sorting tiny garments into piles, and laughing at the number of silver rattles that seem nothing short of useless. She tells me stories about her childhood, living in the US until she bounced around Europe with her father after her mother died. I don’t give her much in return. I can’t. I make up bullshit stories, the lies prickling my heart. The more time I’m in this job, the closer I get tothis family, the more I hate every word that comes from my lips and every action I take against them.
