Page 122 of Royal Bargain
She smiles—but it doesn’t stick. “Thanks. I’m glad it went okay. I really am.”
Her voice falters. I wait. I saw it back at the venue—the way she kept scanning the crowd, hands trembling when she thought no one would notice.
“I just…” She exhales hard. “I should be happy. And I am. But the whole time I was up there, I kept expecting Dariy to show up. Or worse—Papa.”
Her hands twist together in her lap. “And leaving Lily…” She trails off. “I know she was fine. I know. But I still felt like shit the whole night.”
I reach for her hand, threading our fingers. “Hey. We’re not aiming for perfect. We’re surviving. And you were gone, what—three hours, maybe? Lily was safe. You chased something that mattered to you. That’s not selfish. That’s brave as hell.”
Ana leans her head back against the cushion. “Doesn’t feel brave. Just… guilty.”
“It wasn’t,” I say. “And you’re not going anywhere you don’t want to. I’ll call Ingrid first thing and tell her where to stick her damn schedule.”
That earns a real laugh this time. “She might actually do it. Just to be petty.”
I grin. “Then I’ll record it.”
She opens one eye. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re fried,” I say, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s get you changed. Crawl into bed with Lily. I’ll barricade the damn door if I have to. No one’s getting through me.”
Her expression softens, but that worry still lingers behind her lashes like smoke that won’t clear. I don’t press. Not yet. She’ll tell me what she needs to in her own time.
For now, we’re home. We’re safe.
And I’ll make damn sure it stays that way.
Ana doesn’t move right away, but when I stand and offer my hand, she takes it.
We change out of our clothes—her into an oversized tee and fuzzy socks, me into sweats and a ratty old t-shirt—and tiptoeinto the nursery. Lily’s still asleep, curled on her side in her crib, a stuffed fox tucked against her cheek.
Ana just stares at her for a minute, brushing her fingers over Lily’s tiny hand. “She’s getting so big.”
“She made a new face today,” I whisper. “Scrunches her nose like she smelled something foul. I think she was mimicking me.”
Ana smiles and looks at me over her shoulder. “You do make a lot of faces.”
“I’m expressive.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
We both grin, the tension easing. I carefully scoop Lily into my arms, and she stirs but doesn’t cry—just lets out a soft sigh and nestles into my chest. We carry her back to the living room and settle on the couch, Ana curling against my side, Lily in her lap now, still half-asleep but beginning to stir.
“Hey,kotik,” Ana coos softly. “Did you miss Mama?”
Lily yawns, then squints up at her with those impossibly big blue eyes. I reach down and tap her nose, then stick my tongue out at her.
She stares at me for a beat, then, slowly, sticks her tongue out in return.
Ana gasps. “Did she—did she copy you?”
“No way.” I do it again—tongue out, exaggerated. Lily does it back.
“Oh my God.” Ana starts giggling. “She’s mocking you already.”
“She gets it from your side,” I say, grinning.
