Page 23 of Possessing the Prince

Now, I‘m lying next to my knight in naked armor, wondering how to be a short-term wife when being a wife at all was the last thing I wanted. No matter how good this feels, I cannot be married at the end of this year. My photography contract with the Duchess of Kent calls out to me every day from the Bottega Veneta portfolio I keep locked in one of my suitcases. There's no second chance at an opportunity like that. And I know Senya can’t follow me and the royal entourage all over Australia. I can’t have both him and my career, and I owe to the memory of my mother and myself to choose my true vocation.

But in the meantime, I will take this entire experience one day at a time and try not to get kidnapped.

“What are you up thinking about at this hour?” Senya opens one eye and grumbles. I should have known he was awake. He’s always aware of everything.

I smile and trace my fingers across his lips. He bites down on my finger and I laugh. “Oh nothing, just how wonderful it was to get dicked down last night. I must say…you were in rare form, Prince T’ogbe.”

Senya shifts on his back and pulls me down to his chest. “Umm hmm, but I am always in rare form with you, so that is no surprise. All I could think about was putting my babies in your beautiful belly. Abena, when are you going to let me make you mine completely?”

I release a heavy sigh that tricks me and turns into a light sob. The emotion is unexpected, but I can’t get myself together. Senya scrambles up and pulls me with him.

“What is it, Abena?” He pulls me away from his chest and looks me in my eyes. “What did I say to make you so distraught? Does the idea of having my babies upset you? Am I not the type of man you want to father your children?”

I hear the accusation and insecurity in his voice, and I hate that I am the one putting them there with my own secrets and insecurities. I keep my eyes on him and place both hands on his chest.

“Senya, you know I want my career. I was waiting for the right time to tell you, but I’m leaving for Australia as soon as our marriage of convenience is over. I am due to serve the Duke and Duchess of Kent on a pilgrimage through the outback while they negotiate reparations with the Aborigines for a year. We can’t exactly raise babies on two separate continents, can we?”

Senya tenses beneath me. Shit, he’s probably pissed I didn’t tell him about the gig. “I didn’t know you were still seriously thinking about taking that little contract with the royal family.”

I lift up and give him a sharp look. How did he know about the contract? Well, that I can figure out: He always keeps tabs on my whereabouts. First, it was because he was my friend and didn’t want me to overdose alone somewhere. Then it became part of his job. Now, I think he just likes keeping me safe. Seeing that I'm in danger of being kidnapped as we speak…I can’t really be too mad at that.

But did he just call the culmination of my life’s work alittle contract?

“Senya don’t be an ass. There is nothing small about my contract. Why wouldn’t I seriously think about the gig of a lifetime? Don’t you understand what this could do for my career as a photojournalist? I’ll be able to work for any news agency or press office I like when I return. Not to mention that little contract is worth a little over one million dollars, thank you very much!”

Senya closes his eyes and scratches his eyebrows. “Abena, why would you go off and chronicle someone else’s family when we can start our own right here? You don't need the money; I’m richer than God. And you sure as hell won’t be bored here, because my press office was in shambles before you came, and I need you. Your country needs you. Now that we’ve had time to catch our breath and reconnect, can’t you entertain the idea that marrying me and having children might make you happy?”

I say nothing in response for a while and lower my head back to his chest. I could react and yell at him about the many sexist things he just said. And there were many. But instead, I think a response is needed. It’s time I tell him the truth. There's no need to keep having a moot conversation. I swallow hard and gather my nerves.

“Senya…I…I can’t have babies,” I whisper so low that I barely hear myself. The shame steals my voice.

But he hears me. Of course he does. Because Senya would command the wind to still just to hear my voice. He pulls me into a hug so tight I nearly burst. Then he asks with a whisper in my ear, “Why not?”

I pull away and wipe the tears from my face before taking a deep breath to share something I’ve always kept to myself.

“Senya. I know you know all about my years of drug and alcohol abuse. I mean, you were there cleaning up after me for most of it. Well, I never told you that one night, I really did almost die. It was alcohol poisoning. I ended up having to stay in the hospital for a few days, and during that time, the doctor discovered I had fibroids. He let me know between that and the years of alcoholism that my fertility was shot to hell. I had them run all types of tests, because you know…I really hated the idea of never being a mom. But they all came back the same. I got the fibroids removed, but there was nothing they could do about my fertility issues. I went to specialist after specialist, Senya…nothing.”

My tears fall in earnest. I thought I made peace with all of this three years ago, but having to tell Senya my dirty little secret brings a fresh wave of pain.

He stays silent for a very long time—so long that I think he may never speak to me again. But then he kisses me, and he doesn’t stop until my tears dry. He lays me down on my back and continues to kiss me and wash all the shame and guilt away. His lips claim me all over again to remind me I’m still his. When he finally stops, he sits up and straddles me before leaning down and taking my face in his hands. “You should have told me, Abena.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

He laughs. “Aren’tyouthe one trying to run away fromme?”

I shake my head. “No. Not you. Marriage. The institution. The trap. You are everything to me. “Me wiase nyinaa ne wo.”I tense at my use of Twi to tell him he’s my world. It slips out so naturally that it scares me, but I continue. “I couldn’t bear the idea of you looking at me differently…like I was half a woman.”

“Foolish girl,” he growls. “You are more woman than any other female walking this Earth. I would have done what I always do, Abena: I would have taken care of you. There are many ways to have children, and if you wanted them with me, I would have explored each avenue. Tell me, does your father know?”

I lower my eyes. “No. Of course not. He’d freak and probably disown me.”

Senya sits back up and looks at me with eyes full of care and fury. “Abena, that was a dangerous game you were playing. If you had been married off to Michael Apeagyei and not been able to bear a child, I shudder to think what he would have done with you. Kofi would not be cruel, but as Asantehene, he would have divorced you. I know it.”

“I know. I even thought saying something would save me from the betrothals. But I just couldn’t face the shame in our culture from infertility. And I sure couldn't face my father’s disappointment.”

He pulls me up from the bed, wraps my arms around his waist, and speaks into my ear. “Well, none of that matters. You will never disappoint me. To me, you are perfect. Remember that.”

“OK” is all I can eek out. I am overwhelmed by his love and what it means. Senya reads my mind and shifts the subject. He pulls us apart and turns me around to sit in his lap, facing away from him. He knows I need to gather myself. When I hear his deep voice, it calms me.

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