“Tell her I said hello,” he murmured.
“She wants you to come.”
“I’m not going there. Wherever she is...he is.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant. Alexander and Clara had a tendency to orbit one another since they met. That had only gotten worse given everything they went through. “I’m sure we can arrange it, so that he stays away. Don’t you want to see Wills?”
“Does it make me a bad person if I say no?” he asked in a hollow voice. “I don’t want to hate her, but I can’t seem to…”
Forgive her. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know.” He nodded his head before allowing it to hang forward. “But trying to reason with the heart is about as effective as arguing with a table. It can’t be done. I just need time.”
“Then that’s what I’ll tell her,” I said simply. It hurt to see him go through this. It hurt to watch Clara blame herself. But sometimes the only thing that healed wounds was time.
“Belle,” he said tentatively, lowering his sunglasses to stare at me from red-rimmed eyes, “don’t tell her that I hate her. I don’t really…”
“I won’t,” I promised him, wrapping him in another hug only to feel the baby kick hard.
Edward pulled back, his glasses still pushed low on his nose and his eyes wide. “Was that?”
“Yep,” I said with a laugh. “She’s growing quite demanding.”
“I warned you about squishing Mini-Belle,” he said with a laugh that lifted some of the weight from the air around us. “If you aren’t careful, she’ll be forced to come out here and tell you off.”
“Promise?” I groaned. My due date was only two days away and there was no end in sight.
“If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll show up when she damn well pleases,” Edward teased. We rounded a corner and nearly ran into a Christmas tree trimmed with artisan, blown glass ornaments. His good mood evaporated. Maybe shopping wasn’t such a good idea, after all. I could get presents later or place an order. Right now, he needed me more than anyone else in my life might need a gift weeks from now.
“Are you hungry?” I blurted out, steering him clear of the reminder of the impending holidays.
“I could eat, but only if it’s something full of carbs that will make me emotionally numb,” he demanded.
“I think we can make that happen.” It wasn’t much. Maybe it was all I could do: try to be there when he needed to fall apart. Maybe that’s all anyone can do when dealing with a broken heart.
5
Smith
The bar of the Westminster Royal was fairly quiet given the time of day. A few businessmen lingered over cocktails, discussing market prices and valuations. A couple, obviously mind-affair, were sipping champagne in the corner. I took a table in the middle of the room, where I’d be able to see every entrance and exit and waited for my guest to arrive. Out of habit, I checked my mobile, concerned that if Belle tried to reach me I might not have heard it in the bustle of London’t sidewalks. No new messages. I expected a call any moment—the call— and the longer I went without receiving it the more tightly wound I became. It was difficult to let Belle out of my sight when she might go into labor at any time.
Across from me a table of businessmen stopped talking and turned to stare at a woman entering the bar. I didn’t have to look to see who it was.
Georgia Kincaid always made an entrance, whether she was trying to or not.
Today she’d traded her usual motorcycle leather for a pair of tight black pants and a fitted blazer that dipped low enough to display the lace of her bra. Her glossy black hair swung loosely around her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her ruby red lips. She didn’t bother to smile when she spotted me. Instead, she strode straight toward me, ignoring the men’s stares, and took the seat next to me, the only other chair that afforded views of the exits. Some habits never died, and Georgia’s current line of work necessitated vigilance.
“Where’s your wife?” Georgia asked, peering around me like I might be hiding a nine-months pregnant Belle behind my back.
“Shopping with Edward,” I said in a clipped tone.
“I don’t think you have to worry about him.” Georgia’s lips twitched into a bemused smile.
“He’s not the one I’m worried about.”
“You can’t keep her under lock and key all the time,” she advised with a sigh.
I shot her a look. “Can’t I? Isn’t that what your boss does?”
It was something of a sore subject that Georgia had gone to work for Alexander. Particularly, because I’d planned to coax her into keeping an eye on Belle. Somehow, she’d been talked into working for the monarchy, which, given how we were raised, had more than surprised me. Georgia and I had spent our formative years being groomed by one of England’s most insidious crime lords to hate the Royal family and everything it stood for. I’d thought for years that no one hated them more than me, Georgia, and my surrogate father, Hammond. I’d been expected to work against them by Hammond until I realized I wanted nothing to do with him or his sins. I’d had to lose the thing I thought was most important to me in the world: my wife. Then, I’d had to discover my marriage had been a manipulation. That’s when I convinced Georgia to start working against Hammond with the help of the Royal family. But the deeper we dove, the uglier it got until Hammond delivered a game-changer to my door: Belle. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her. Alexander had been furious, concerned it would jeopardize his investigation into the assassination of his father. That’s when I realized my loyalty would only ever lie with Belle. But even that hadn’t been simple. It turned out that we were nothing but pawns in a much larger game. I’d won my freedom only to be dragged back into the fray when they kidnapped Belle’s best friend. I’d helped Alexander find his wife for Belle’s sake. Each time I got pulled back into that world, I wondered if I’d make it back out. This last time, my alliance with Alexander had felt dangerously like friendship.
It’s why I had to convince Belle to leave London. She was in danger as long as we remained near them. But keeping her from her closest friends was proving to be more than I could handle. It wasn’t that I wanted to isolate her. More than anything I wanted her to make new friends, settle into life in Sussex, and start over. Georgia could have helped with that, but I suspected that she’d actually fallen victim to caring about Alexander and Clara too much to walk away.
“Don’t drag Alexander into this,” Georgia advised. “This isn’t about him.”
“Everything’s about him,” I said gruffly. That’s how it felt in London.
“He’s the King, so it probably feels that way.”
“He convinced you to take a job working for the good guys,” I said, wondering how someone as chaotic as Georgia had found herself actively working for the Crown.
“The benefits are excellent,” she said with a shrug. “You should see my new ride.”
I raised an eyebrow. I’d much rather chat about cars than royalty.