Page 14 of Royal Fling
At least I didn’t have any official engagements tomorrow.
Five
Luke
My body was shaking, and each step I took needed calibrating if I wasn’t going to collapse. In fact, I had no idea how I was still on my feet.
I was standing in front of my birth mother. I thought I’d be pissed off seeing her in this fancy penthouse. I thought I’d want answers instead of crying in her arms.
I was wrong.
Fisayo walked us to the living room, and I almost choked on my own spittle at the view ahead.
One side of the room was entirely made of glass with a well-tended balcony and a stunning view of London beyond it.
There was an electrical fireplace on one end of the room, a large sectional beige couch facing both the fireplace and the view, and dimmed lights that reminded me just how late it actually was.
Was I ready for this? Was I ready to do this now? Was she? And where was my biological father?
Even though I had my back to him, I could sense the eyes of the rich man from the airport on me, and it only made me feel more flustered.
I had so many questions. I didn’t even know where to start.
But as we sat on one end of the couch and Beth and the other guy sat on a dining table behind us, Fisayo pierced my eyes with her gaze and took long, deep breaths.
“I’m sorry for turning up unannounced,” I said. “I had every intention of messaging you as soon as I’d landed, but then my brother left me your address and… I guess I couldn’t wait to do this.”
She shook her head and sniffled again. Just as quickly, she inhaled and composed herself.
“You’ve got a brother?” she asked with a sad smile that made me feel uneasy.
“Three actually. And a sister,” I replied.
Her smile widened, but more tears streamed down her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
I knew why she was apologizing, but I didn’t need it. I had a great life thanks to the decision she’d made. But what I did need more than everything was an explanation.
“Are you… are you ready to tell me what happened?”
She nodded, tearing up again.
There was a box of tissues on the coffee table—glass, rimmed with gold accents—and I reached for it. The case was made of leather, and I felt awkward touching something that probably cost more than my entire outfit put together, and I could still feel those intense eyes on me.
Fisayo took a few tissues and patted her face dry, then looked at me.
“I married young,” she started. “It was a different time then. I was only fifteen. But I loved your father, and he loved me. We… we eloped. His parents didn’t approve of me. So they wrote him off.”
My body stilled listening to her tale. I didn’t fidget, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. I just waited for the rest.
This is my story. These are my origins.
“We were poor. We worked long hours to make ends meet, but we were together. We were happy so… it didn’t matter. We wanted to start a family. To have a bunch of children. We were young. And stupid. In love.
“I finally got pregnant when I was seventeen. Oh, you should have seen Femi’s face when I told him. He was over the moon. We’d been trying for so long. He couldn’t wait to have a son. Couldn’t wait to hold you in his arms.”
Fisayo broke down again, and I managed to take a breath before I passed out. Imagining what my life might have been like if I’d grown up with her. If I’d grown up with them.
