“Should I get a wheelchair or something?”
“Hilarious,” I said in a flat tone. “I’m trying to get some exercise in, so this diva will get the hell out of me. And that’s pretty impossible since I’m not allowed to go anywhere thanks to you.”
“Me?” She snorted, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder as she led me towards Clara’s private residence. “That’s all your husband, sweetheart.”
“You’re enabling him,” I said grumpily. I’d thought Smith handled the situation at the baby shower better than expected—until the following morning when I discovered Brexton Miles was my new shadow. It could be worse. He was funny and sweet and built like a tank. But any hopes I had of scurrying around London, enjoying my last hurrah, were dashed by his presence. I felt like I had a babysitter.
“You lucked out. You got Brex. Your best friend is stuck with me,” Georgia said as she opened the door.
“It’s terrible,” Clara called from her sitting room. William was on her lap, gurgling happily. She’d put him in a pair of short pants that matched his blue eyes. A sweep of black hair stuck up on top of his head, making him look more like his father everyday. “She doesn’t even like to shop.”
“Neither do you,” I reminded Clara. She really had changed. It hit me every day that I came here, and I’d been here most days since our return from Sussex. Not only did she live in the heart of London and wave from the balcony for state events and host garden parties on the lawn, she was a wife and a mother.
“I like buying tiny baby things,” she admitted with a wink. “I can’t help it. It makes me happy.”
Happiness was something that seemed to be in perpetually short supply around here of late. Clara and Alexander adored each other—anyone could see that. But their love came with its own problems. Loving him had proven to be nearly deadly for her in more ways than one. Little William, sitting on her lap now the picture of health, had already required surgery for a heart defect in his short life. Money and power might have bought them guards and security, but it couldn’t protect them from fate. Nothing could.
Clara stood, lifting William higher on her shoulder, and nodded toward the nursery.
“That’s my cue,” Georgia said, holding up a tabloid. “I’ll be in here, learning the Royal Family’s most devastating secret.”
“Be sure to let me know what it is later,” Clara told her, and they shared a laugh. I did my best not to stare at them like they were aliens. Something twisted in my chest, and it took a moment for me to recognize what it was: jealousy.
They’d bonded. Of course, they had after everything Clara had been through and how much time they spent together. It wasn't that I wanted to be closer to Georgia. Somehow I was certain we’d always lock horns. But I missed the days of living with Clara, gossiping over too much wine, thinking the biggest decision I had to face was what flowers to carry for my wedding. That had been before Alexander and Smith and the insane world we found ourselves in now.
As soon as we entered William’s room, Elizabeth rushed over, grabbed my hand, and dragged me down to her own room. “I have a new tea set.”
She still lisped as she spoke and my heart leapt. I didn’t bother to remind her that I had given her the tea set for her birthday a month ago. It hardly seemed important. Elizabeth pretended to pour both of us cups, and I took mine, sipping daintily to her delight. A few years from now, she’d be here with my daughter, playing together. I almost couldn’t wait.
If Smith didn’t keep us locked away in Sussex, that was.
She laid a tiny warm hand on my stomach, scrunched her nose, and said, “Kick!”
“I’m not sure she’ll do it on command, darling,” I warned her.
She turned a look so purely Alexander on me that I couldn’t help but giggle, which resulted in a kick, after all.
After a few minutes, I finally managed to convince Elizabeth to return to William’s room.
“My room is more interesting,” she informed me, only missing about half the syllables as she spoke. “We should stay here.”
“I want to see your brother, too.” I suspected she might be a little jealous herself.
“Fine.” She shrugged. “But he’s boring.”
Judging from the scene that greeted me when we finally made our way back into the nursery, William had ceased being boring and finally done something interesting.
“Clever boy,” Clara cooed, camera trained at him while he stuck his toes in his mouth.
We stepped inside and his head turned, sensing the movement—and then he rolled over.
“Oh!” I clapped, feeling as though I’d won the lottery. Elizabeth looked up at me before joining in. I guessed even she was impressed by this milestone.
Clara straightened up, letting Wills do his tummy time, and smiled but I caught her eyes wandering over me like she expected I might burst any moment. “I wasn’t sure we’d see you today.”
“I’m going to serve the baby a vacate notice.” I waddled over to the chair across from her and lowered into it, feeling instant relief. “I feel as big as a house.”
“You look gorgeous.” I could tell she meant it, which made the compliment stick even if I was feeling about as attractive as hippopotamus.
“I’m just ready to meet this little one.” I rubbed the spot where she’d been kicking me moments earlier.
Clara looked at her phone, her eyes flickering over the video. I heard myself exclaim and clap. She swiped something and sighed.
It was clear she’d sent the video to her husband, but that wasn’t who she was thinking of. I knew because I’d been worrying about Edward, too. “You should send it to him.”
“Alexander hates missing this stuff.”
“You know what I meant.” I’d seen the pain in her eyes when she’d realized he wasn’t coming to the baby shower last week. I’d nearly called him the next day to give him a piece of my mind, upset that he’d missed it, especially since Alexander hadn’t been there. I’d had to remind myself that I needed to give him the space to heal, even if I wanted to mother him until he felt better.
“Have you spoken with him?” she asked with some hesitation.
“For a few minutes.” I’d only seen him once since we came back to London, and no part of me wanted to relay to her the things he’d said that day. I knew that if I told her we’d lunched together, she would ask and I would have to lie more. Edward had asked me not to tell her how much he was struggling with his feelings toward his family. I needed to respect that as much as I could. “He called to tell me he was going to Italy.”
“Italy?” She did a decent job of looking surprised, but Edward had been running away as often as possible from the city. I didn’t have the heart to tell her he planned to be gone for the holidays, as well.
“He said he’s eating all the pasta and getting fat.” He had, in fact, used those exact words.
But Clara’s voice was distant, lost to guilt, when she responded, “He’s never going to forgive me.”
“It’s not you that he has to forgive,” I said gently. “He needs time to process what David did and what…”