Page 44 of The Child of Rue Royale
“You need these,” she says to Bastian through shocked eyes, and I run to her and hug her with one arm, the feelings overwhelming me.
“Thank you, cousin,” Bastian says, pulling the shorts on. His confused glare turns to me, focusing on what’s in my arms. A dark-haired baby with green eyes. His gaze deepens, something blossoming inside his chest. A recognition he can’t put his finger on, but he can feel it—I can feel it.
The world spins around us, and I swallow as Aven stops crying and sneezes, pulling me out of the haze I’m in, the tears just flowing on their own, endlessly.
“Whose child is that?” he whispers, finger pointed at his son. A sob comes from the corner of the room, Chantal realizing that Bastian is going to be delivered some groundbreaking news.
“He’s,” I start and close my eyes, gathering strength. “He’s ours.”
Bastian’s jaw clenches as he takes a step closer to us. “What do you mean, he’s ours? You got a donor?” A shocked look crosses his face.
“No, no! Bastian. He’s yours. The potion. It made parts of you human. Allowed us to conceive. This is your son. Fully and completely. He’s yours.”
Bastian clenches his fists. “No,” he says. “No, I can’t have children.”
“But you did, Bastian. Look at him. He looks just like you. And that’s why we are here. Because the witch that can only birth daughters, birthed a son. Your son.”
“Stop this,” he says, shaking his head. “Stop this.” I see the spark of wonder in his eyes, the disbelief he wants to shed, but the reality seems too good to be true. But it is true. It is.
“He’s yours. Yours and mine,” I whisper, stepping closer to him.
He approaches us slowly, one hand pulling my waist against his, and the other touching Aven’s little hand. “How?” He shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. “This is…this is all I ever wanted. Do you know that?”
I can only nod, so very slowly. I do know that.
“Can I…touch him?”
“He’s yours, yes!” I practically yell, because this feeling, this exuberance in my lungs feels like it can’t be real, it can’t last. With all the pain I’ve clung to over the past eleven months, this feels like my head is a hot air balloon that could burst at any moment.
Bastian’s hesitant, caution radiating from his skin. He looks from Aven to me, then to Chantal, his face so disbelieving, so filled with emotion.
“I can’t…” he says, suddenly stopping. “I don’t know what to do. This is…I can’t take it…I don’t know what’s happening.” His chest is heaving, his shoulders shaking.
It’s so much, and I don’t know what the right move is here, but luckily Chantal runs over to Bastian, placing a hand on his shoulder. “This is a lot to take in,” she says, her eyes sympathizing with him, guiding him toward the rocking chair. “Sit here, and take some deep breaths.”
Like a deer in headlights, Bastian sits, and my jaw tenses. It’s so much, too much for anyone to handle. My heart hurts, but my mind reminds me: he was brought back to life, he might not be a vampireanymore, and now he has a son. No wonder he looks like he might pass out.
I walk over to him, falling at his feet. “Just take deep breaths. Deep breaths,” I say, his eyes never leaving me, his hand reaching out to grasp mine. I hold it, warm, so warm—and I squeeze. “I know it’s a lot. I know it’s so much.”
Bastian nods, green eyes finally looking back to our son, pulling his hand down his face. “I just, how can this be?” he whispers as Chantal hands him a glass of water.
“Drink this,” she says, and Bastian downs the water in seconds, closing his eyes tightly, then opening and closing them on me.
“I’m sorry, Bastian. I—”
“Don’t apologize, baby, no. You’ve given me everything I have ever wanted in my life. Don’t apologize.” With those words, he slides out of the chair and down to the floor where Aven and I sit, and relief washes over me. Thank God.
He lets go of my hand, running his finger over Aven’s cheek with a sharp intake of breath. “Green eyes,” he whispers, enamored with what’s before him. “A son? You can’t have sons?”
I swallow and can only shrug in response. So much has happened in minutes, and there’s still so much to catch up on. Aven looks at his father for the first time, and this is the start of my new life. My everything is in one room.
“Is he…is he a vampire?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. He can be in the sun. He doesn’t need blood. Every test is normal.”
I don’t want to overwhelm him with any more words or details. There’s so much to figure out, so much muck to weed through. This moment doesn’t need to be rushed. And it hits me all over again. I’m staring at the love of my life, living, breathing.
Grief can become your personality. You’re no longer the person you were before you lost your beloved. You become someone else—your skin remains unchanged, but inside you’re marred and mangled. You look the same, but within, you’re a maze of despair. I will never be the same, having experienced that. But I know I won’t take a day for granted anymore. I know that I can and will lose people I love again. The preciousness of life kills your heart little by little.
