Page 37 of Baby Daddy Protector

“No. I want to be here. I want to stay.” When at last the doctor called time of death, Es swayed slightly, and this time, when I slid my arm around her waist to support her, she let me. “He’s gone,” she whispered. “He’s gone and I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Not really.”

I kissed the top of her head and closed my eyes, remembering the night my own parents had been killed in the terrorist attack. I’d never gotten to say goodbye to them either, and it was a regret I still carried with me to this day. Still, one of my foster families had told me that my parents knew how much I’d loved them and that they watched over me from heaven. Their death wasn’t really a goodbye because they’d never really left me. They were always with me, in my heart.

“He knew, princess. He knew how much you loved him and that you were here for him until the end,” I said, holding her closer as she sagged into me, her tears flowing freely now that we were alone with her father’s body. The medical staff had quietly filed out to give us a moment. “He knew how brave you were, how strong. How capable. He died a happy man because of you, princess.”

Es turned her face into my chest and sobbed. I held her close, my heart aching for her, this woman who meant so much to me. By this point, I wasn’t sure how I’d leave her when the time came. I wasn’t supposed to care, I knew that. It wasn’t part of our deal. I was supposed to stay until the baby was born then return to my SEAL team. That’s what I’d wanted, what I’d lived for. But now…

As I rocked Es slowly, stroking her soft hair and murmuring words of solace in her ear, I started to realize that things had changed for me. I’d changed. Es and our baby had worked their way deep into my heart, and they both now mattered to me far more than I’d ever expected. More than my past, more than my SEAL team, more than my need for control and my fear of being left behind.

“It’ll be all right, princess,” I whispered. “Maybe not now, but it will be eventually, I promise.”

The slight swell of her baby bump pressed against my stomach and I smiled, despite the situation. Hoping to lift her spirits a bit, I asked, “Do you think the baby will be allergic to strawberries, like you and your father were?”

Es sniffled and lifted her head, frowning. “What?”

I tilted my head slightly, cupping her cheeks to swipe away her tears with my thumbs. “The baby. Do you think he’ll be allergic to strawberries, like you and your father?”

“I don’t know.” Es shook her head. “Maybe. I suppose he could be. Such things are often genetic, but I don’t think I’m really allergic.”

“Really?” I cocked a brow at her. “So all the hives and itchiness is normal then?”

She bit her lip, but not before I saw a slight smile. Mission accomplished. Warmth and affection soared inside me. “Fine. I may have a slight allergy. And I know what you’re doing, trying to make me feel better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I kissed her again, sweetly, before one of the staff ducked their head into the room. “We need to go.”

While Es said her final goodbyes to her father, I packed up her knitting and gathered our things. As we walked out of the hospital suite for the last time, heading toward the back entrance that I had had my security team prepare earlier for our departure, I kept my arm around Es. It was as much for my own need to feel her near me as to support and comfort her.

She looked far too pale for my liking. If I didn’t think she’d raise an unholy fuss, I’d just as soon carry her down to our waiting limo in my arms, but I knew Es would have none of that, strong woman that she was.

There’d be tough days ahead, with her father’s funeral to plan and Silvester still lurking about. None of that mattered to me at present. All I wanted right now was to get my wife and baby home to the palace where we could eat and rest and mourn in peace.

TWENTY-SIX

The next few weeks passed by in a blur for me. Between dealing with my grief about my father’s passing and coordinating a state funeral to rival anything Europe had ever seen, I’d had my hands full. Not to mention the pregnancy. I’d outgrown my early maternity clothes and was now sporting full-on tent-like tops and dresses. Not exactly regal wear, but they were comfy and warm—and since we were heading into a long Prylean winter, that was all that mattered.

At least I had Z by my side through it all. He’d been my rock and my protector, and I’d restored him to head of my security team. More than that, though, I was grateful each day to have him as my husband. Even knowing that it was only part of our deal and he’d be gone shortly after our son was born. I did my best to remind myself that our marriage wasn’t real, but it didn’t stop my heart from falling a bit more in love with him each day. I’d be devastated when he left, but I’d let him go because that’s what I’d promised him I would do. And I always kept my promises.

Unfortunately, he was busier than ever, dealing with a rise in threats since the king’s death. I would not have been surprised to find that most of the threats came from backers of my cousin. In addition to the Christmas Market bomb scare, there’d also been two attempts at scaling the palace gates, trying to get inside to harm me and my unborn baby. One had had a knife and the other a handgun. Neither had made it past the driveway, but both attacks had left me shaken.

Then there’d been the day I’d been in town, after my father’s funeral, shopping for things for the nursery. Looking back, I should’ve noticed the strange way the clerk in the shop kept tracking my every movement as if waiting for the right time to strike. At the time, however, I’d been too engrossed in my shopping to pay much attention and had thought myself well-hidden in the disguise I’d worn.

My wig and baseball hat, however, hadn’t deterred the female clerk who’d come at me like a Mack truck in the store, yelling about Silvester reigning forever, and brandishing a wickedly sharp letter opener with which she’d tried to stab me and my baby.

Luckily, my security guards had sprung into action immediately and had managed to pull the woman off and cart her away before any harm was done, but still. I rarely ventured outside the palace walls anymore. Internet shopping had become my new best friend, but it wasn’t the same as getting out and exploring. Most days, the confinement left me restless and bored and on-edge.

Of course, not spending any time with my husband lately didn’t help either. He was so busy trying to keep me safe and keep my cousin’s coup attempts under control that we rarely saw each other during the day. At night, he fell into bed exhausted and was asleep within minutes, barely taking the time to kiss me goodnight first.

Z had assured me that things would get better after our son was officially recognized as the new king, but so far I hadn’t seen any signs that things were improving. Today, there’d even been an active shooter scare at one of the local schools, with the suspected gunman claiming to be trying to bring awareness to my cousin’s rightful claim to the throne by holding innocent children hostage. The world had gone insane and I was scared to bring my son into it, frankly.

I looked over in bed, through the shadows, and stared at the muscled planes of Z’s back. Needing connection, I reached over and placed my hand against his warm skin. He stirred in his sleep and rolled over to face me, eyes still closed as he pulled me into his arms and sleepily kissed my forehead. Not exactly the passionate response I’d been hoping for, but it was enough to comfort me.

I snuggled into him and closed my eyes, praying that Z was right and that once the parliamentary session next week acknowledged our son as the legitimate heir to the throne of Prylea, things would calm down. Still, a niggle of doubt lingered inside me, a worry that with my father gone, I might lose this new little family I’d built just as easily. That thought terrified me.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Deacon, dude!” I walked into the Prancing Pony Pub that Friday, relieved beyond measure to see my best friend in the flesh. My old SEAL buddy had a stopover in Prylea on his way back to America following a secret mission in Russia. We shared a back-slapping bro hug then took a seat in the booth Deacon had saved for us.

“Hey, man,” Deacon said, sliding into the seat opposite mine. “Long time no actual see.”

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