Page 85 of His Beloved Princess
"I know, baby girl," I said, cupping her cheeks with my palms. "And that's the problem. You should never settle with less than you deserve."
"Stop saying that nonsense," she snapped, sitting up.
"It's the truth," I objected, holding her hard stare. She narrowed her eyes at me and looked like she wanted to punch me. But it didn't stop me from explaining my point. "Right now, I'm like twenty percent of myself. It's been almost a month, and I can't stand on my feet. Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?"
"No, Sebastian, I don't," she replied, and I blinked in confusion because she never called me by my full name. "But what I know is helplessness when a person you love is dying in front of you." She got off the bed, her expression rigid and posture tense.
"I know the fear and anxiety of never speaking again with the person who is the reason you live." She gulped, wetness appeared in her eyes once more, and my stomach sank. "And I also know how hard it is to be dragged into something you never asked for."
"Electra," I whispered, stretching my arm in her direction, but she shook her head, taking her purse.
"I was weak, bleeding, and hurt, and you threw me to the sharks," she said, angrily wiping the lone tear that fell from her eye. "So don't tell me what is frustrating. I know enough."
She stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut and leaving me stunned in the hospital bed. It took me a few long moments to understand what had happened and what she had said.
I knew our marriage was hanging between us like a bomb, and we both tried to avoid detonating it, yet this time, it was inevitable. She did what I asked, but she obviously never fully agreed with it.
For me, it was no different if I married her now, in two months, or in five years later. I wanted to spend my life with her. Still, the circumstances of our marital status were slightly bizarre, and I felt like some gesture was needed to prove to her that I loved and wanted her. And I had all the time in the world to come up with something special.
40
The King of the World
Electra
“He’s an arrogant egomaniac,” Zoe claimed when I told her what happened with Bastian, stirring her coffee with a small spoon. “And he’s tied to the bed, unable to command the world to abide by his orders. I’m surprised he didn’t explode sooner.”
“He didn’t explode,” I objected, frowning. The strawberry cheesecake, which looked delicious a few seconds ago, turned to ash in my mouth. “He just doesn’t see that we all went through hell and that some of us are still stuck there.”
I looked out the window at the busy street, shaking my head with annoyance. “Andreas is barely sleeping, you’re hunting a ghost, Peter and Derek bust their asses off so everything goes smoothly, and all he says is, ‘It’s frustrating to lie in bed.’What the actual fuck?”
“Ellie,” Zoe sighed, pouring us a glass of water. “He doesn’t see your perspective, but I’m pretty sure you don’t see his, too.”
“What that’s supposed to mean?” I glowered, leaning closer over the table. She was the only person I told about this, and I needed another opinion. The last thing I wanted was to fight with Bastian and hisstubbornness.
“He feels inefficient, useless, maybe incompetent to care for you properly,” she started, and I rolled my eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. He was the king of the world.” She cast me a knowing look, shrugging. “Imagine ruling from your pedestal one day, and the next, you’re defeated by a deer. That sucks.”
“He’s still the king,” I declared with certainty, scowling at her for her remarks. It couldn’t be true.
“Yes, but he doesn’t feel that way,” she pointed out, silencing her ringing phone after quickly checking the number blinking on the screen. “And you changed too, Ellie. You’re not the same person as you were before the accident.”
“He made me this,” I muttered, playing with the napkin just to occupy my fingers. “His wife, the public figure, the queen of the empire.”
“That’s one side of the coin.” She connected her hands on the table, watching me closely. “Since when are you checking if Andreas is sleeping at night? Or if Peter is playing a good boy? Are you their babysitter or what?”
“Oh, shut up!” I groaned, not in the mood to talk about them.
“Just saying.” She raised her arms in a surrendering gesture. “You’re different.”
“I won’t apologize for having friends,” I mumbled, throwing my scarf and phone into my purse.
“You don’t need to.” She placed her hand on top of mine, stopping my frantic movements. “Just be patient. You love each other, right?”
I nodded, stifling a sob. I felt terrible for being so selfish and not seeing what Bastian was going through. It would’ve never crossed my mind if Zoe hadn’t pointed it out. “Then you’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, standing. She quickly drank her steamy coffee and followed me out.
“I burned my tongue because of you,” I heard her complaining behind me, but I didn’t react. My attention was directed elsewhere, to the person who caused my sleepless nights. Sarah Pearson had just exited her expensive crimson-red Chevrolet, staring back at me as if she saw a ghost.
