“You have obligations,” she began in a very quiet voice that held no hint of a tremble. It was the very lack of emotion, the stamp of inarguable logic, that made her words so powerful.
The splinter he had experienced on his wedding day rent deeper, ringing with agony as he felt himself stretched on the rack of conflicting duties. Wife. Crown. Temporary commitment. Eternal service.
A sharp rap on the door had them turning their attention to Mario as he stepped in without waiting for an invitation.
“Apologies, Your Majesty, but the Prince is requested to go the hospital. Immediately.”
* * *
“They’re prepping her for surgery,” he was told when he called from the back of his car. He broke into a sweat and urged his driver to hurry.
He was shown to a lower floor when he arrived. She was in pre-op, flat on her back in a hospital gown, hair covered in a blue cap, lips white, tubes taped to her arm.
“You made it.” She held out her free hand.
He grasped her fingers, disturbed to find her grip clammy and weak. “What happened?”
“Pain. Tearing. They scanned and said it has to be now.” Her mouth trembled.
Thirty-four weeks. So early.
“Shh.” He leaned to shelter her, trying to smooth her tense brow with his thumb, but feeling the trembles coursing through her. “Are you having an attack?”
“No,” she choked. “This is real fear, Xavier.”
“It will be okay,” he insisted, undone because she had every right to be scared and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do. He was scared. “I’ll come in with you.”
What help do you think you will be?
“You can’t. I asked.”
How did that reach inside him and squeeze his lungs dry? Her wanting him with her spun and wrapped and pierced his heart like a barbed hook, deeply uncomfortable, but inexorable, tethering them together. “I’ll come in anyway.”
“You can’t, but listen. I asked them to wait until you were here so I could ask... I’ve texted my family. Tell them how it goes as soon as you can. If I don’t make it—”
“Of course you’ll make it.” He closed his ears against any other outcome.
“Listen. If I don’t, swear to me you’ll give the baby fair time with them. They’ll need it.” Her eyes filled. “Our baby deserves to know what love is.”
Her words punched a hole clear through him, leaving an expanse of emptiness that was replaced with agony. The gentle rebuke in her eyes was another blow, searing and brutal, too painful to withstand, too impactful to avoid.
“You’re going to come through this,” he managed. What if she didn’t? He couldn’t even.
“Promise me on everything you hold sacred. Your crown. Everything.” Her nails dug into the back of his hand.
“If you need to hear it, yes. I’ll take the baby to your family myself.” He would promise anything to ease that terror in her eyes. To ease his own sense of failure. Of being so lacking she had no faith in him to give their child what it needed. Their baby did deserve to know what love was. If she wasn’t here to offer it...
“Sir, we have to take her now.”
“Kiss me goodbye,” Trella whispered.
He swooped without hesitation, felt the tremble in her pouted lips, thought he ought to be gentle, but he took. Ravaged. He invaded her mouth with his tongue and drowned in all she was, trying to slake a hunger he feared would last all of eternity. Her lips opened, surrendering, even as she responded, flavoring the kiss with sweetness amid the shared desperation.
He kissed her as though it was the last one they would ever share. He couldn’t bear the thought that it might be.
“Sir—”
He straightened abruptly, feeling the loss like he was torn away by a tornado, hating that he was forever doing what must be done.
Trella covered her mouth with her wired hand, eyes blinking above her white fingers. She kept her grip on his fingers until she was forced to let go.
“Sir, there’s an observation room for students. Let me show you.”
A nurse showed him to a small room with a window. Beyond, he saw Trella nod at the anesthesiologist before her face was covered with a mask. Her doctor motioned gloved hands to the team then everyone moved into place so all he saw were backs clad in scrubs.
“It shouldn’t take long,” the nurse said. “If you feel lightheaded, there’s a chair.”
He ignored her, all his attention on the surgery.
“They’re waiting for confirmation she’s out,” the nurse said. “There they go.”
They began to move in a controlled, efficient way and the nurse was right. In a very short time, the doctor was handing a tiny, naked infant to the nurse standing by with a towel. The nurse angled the baby to the window, showing him it was a boy.