“Good morning, Your Highness,” the woman says with a curtsey.
“Did Ms. Tremblay already go down to breakfast?”
“Actually, she left for London early this morning.”
“London?” I shake my head, wondering why I wasn’t made aware of this.
“It was a last-minute trip. The designer Her Majesty wants for her wedding dress had availability to squeeze her in today.”
“Oh.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, hating she’s in London without me. I promised I’d take her one day.
Yet another broken promise.
I debate canceling my engagements scheduled over the next several days to surprise her with a romantic weekend away. She’s only been here a little more than a week, yet I can’t help but feel like I’m losing her. Like there’s a divide between us when we were once strong and impenetrable.
But when I glance at the copy of the local newspaper left on a silver tray outside my door, the headline reporting the referendum still has strong support, despite the announcement of my engagement, I’m reminded of my obligations to the Crown.
Nora will have to wait.
Chapter Sixteen
Nora
“Are you feeling okay, love?”
I look up from the fruit I’d requested for breakfast. I thought it would be the easiest on my stomach, but nothing seems appetizing right now.
“Just morning sickness.” I give Anderson a smile, not wanting to ruin the few minutes we have together before we each have to go our separate ways for the day.
“I’m sorry.”
I swallow hard, pushing down the acid rising in my throat at the mere thought of eating anything. Sliding the bowl away, I opt for a small bite of my dry toast instead.
“It’ll pass,” I tell him in the hopes it eases his worry. He has enough to concern himself with lately.
Anderson has spent every day of the past three weeks attending meetings, galas, public events, all to prove to the nation that his MS won’t limit his ability to lead when the time comes… If the time comes. There’s still a possibility this referendum will pass.
By the time he gets home after working for sometimes sixteen hours, I’m usually asleep or, if I do manage to stay awake in order to have a few minutes with him, he’s exhausted with only enough energy to shrug out of his clothes before collapsing into bed.
We’ve barely spent more than an hour together lately, outside of sleeping in the same bed. I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with my impromptu afternoon tea with his grandmother the day after our engagement was made official.
Despite the palace PR team trying to arrange a few public appearances where Anderson and I are seen together, something more important always comes up, causing me to go pick out floral arrangements alone. Or taste cakes alone. Or pretty much do everything alone.
“Are you sure that’s all?” Anderson asks after I attempt to swallow down some toast, fighting my body to do so. “That there’s not something else bothering you?”
“What makes you think that?” I take a timid sip of water, unsure whether it’ll help keep the few bites of food down or cause it all to come back up and destroy the tablecloth that probably costs more than most of the clothes I owned before I met Anderson.
“Because I know you.” He grabs my hand, brushing his thumb against the diamond ring on my right hand.
God, I’ve missed this connection, the roughness of his skin against mine. I miss him. Miss spending hours doing whatever we wanted as we roamed New York City for hidden gems.
Like when I took him to the subway grate made famous by Marilyn Monroe, both of us proceeding to pose like the famous actress did.
Or when he showed me the Hess Triangle in the West Village, a small triangle of privately owned property in the middle of the sidewalk that’s the result of a dispute between the Hess Estate and the city.
Or when I took him to Grand Central and demonstrated the magic of the Whispering Gallery. How one person could whisper something while standing on one side of the famed arches, the person standing on the other side clearly hearing it over all the noise of the train station. He’d whispered he loved me. Then quite a few things that would make even some of the girls working at the strip clubs blush.
“Remember what I told you before we stepped off that plane?” Anderson presses, pulling me out of my memories. “I need you to be open and honest with me. If I don’t know something’s upsetting you, how can I help fix it? I don’t want to always worry that you’re not telling me something that affects your well-being. If you keep things from me, I will be.”
I study his own tired appearance. His weary eyes, eyelids drooping, bags underneath. I look at his hand as it caresses mine, noting he’s been chewing his fingernails, a habit he only does when extremely stressed. I hate the idea of adding to that stress. Hate the idea of making him feel guilty simply because I’m a little homesick. That I’ve rarely been able to talk to my friends because of the time difference.
That I wish I saw him more.
All I can hear are Queen Veronica’s words she shared with me during tea. That it’s my job to continue the illusion, to not let the world see that being near the crown is a burden.
And that means not letting Anderson see being close to him has become a burden.
“I’m just a little nervous about today. That’s all.”
He furrows his brow, glancing down at his calendar on the tablet in front of him. “Is it something for the wedding? Or a training exercise?”
My heart sinks, and I lean into him. “I told you last week.” I keep my voice low. “I have my first appointment with the palace OB/GYN. Even made sure it was on your agenda.” I look from him to Lieutenant Colonel Bridge, who sits on the other side of him, as he always does during breakfast in order to review his schedule. Most days, this is the only time I get with Anderson, yet I still must share it with his private secretary.
Am I always going to have to share him?
“Shite.” He squeezes his eyes shut.
I pull my hand from his, my shoulders slumping. I don’t even have to ask. He either forgot, or my appointment never made it onto his calendar for today.
Possibly both.
“I’m sorry, Nora. I guess I…lost track of days or something.”
I swallow down the disappointment bubbling inside me and force a smile, despite being on the brink of tears. It’s utterly ridiculous for me to be upset over this. It’s only a doctor’s appointment.
But after suffering a pregnancy loss as traumatic as I did, I’m constantly worried I’ll lose this one, too. Constantly scared of sitting in that exam room all alone. What if the doctor tells me there’s no heartbeat?
I went through that alone once.
I don’t want to go through it again.
“It’s okay. There will be more appointments,” I say, although my voice lacks any conviction.
Hopefully there will be more. But will he be at those? Or will they also be conveniently left off his schedule?
Anderson shifts his gaze from me, pinning Lieutenant Colonel Bridge with a glare. “Why isn’t Ms. Tremblay’s appointment on my agenda?”
“It was,” he begins. “Unfortunately, a few things came up last minute that were deemed a higher priority.”