Page 55 of His Hidden Royal Heirs

“Yes, and I happen to think you’re smart and funny and delightfully spiteful, when you want to be. I know you’ll be as wonderful a mother as you were a sister. So, again, why wouldn’t Cristhian love that? You’re beautiful, and clearly your chemistry is through the roof. I think these are the things normal people use to determine love.”

Zia didn’t have the words to answer that. Mostly because she didn’t think Beau waswrong, per se, just...how could that apply to her? She didn’t want to delve into that. “How is Lyon treating you?”

She could practically hear Beau roll her eyes at the topic change.

“Quite well, all in all. You know, I’m glad it’s me, Zia. I should like to think that you would be so kind as to use the freedom I helped you accomplish to be happy.”

That little remark landed a bit like a slap. “Beau.”

“I have to go. Dinner waits for no crown princess and future popper-outer of heirs. I love you, Zia. For who you are. Not what you can do.”

“Beau.”

But the line went dead, and Zia was forced to face too much of her sister’s very smart words. Forced to face too many things she’d been ignoring. Yes, hoping something would come along to force her into a decision.

How utterly ridiculous for a woman who’d once fancied herself strong enough to run away from a powerful monarchy, hide away on a polar island, plan to raise her babies alone. She, who had whined about having no agency, no choice, was now...cowering in a castle?Waiting.

Hiding away from a man who said he loved her? Who wanted tomarryher and raise their children, putting the children first. Not letting monarchies have any say.

Honestly, it was the most foolish thing, she could scarcely believe she’d fallen so far. Not quite sure what she was going to do about it, she marched out of her room and went in search of Cristhian.

She was shocked to find him not far away, in a room across the hall. Inside the room was...baby furniture. Two cribs. Abureau. She recognized all of it, because they were all she’d bookmarked on her phone.

He glanced up at her in the entry.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty. I thought it best we have the furniture at the very least. Beau assured me you would like these items.”

Leave it to Beau. “You’re quite right,” Zia managed though her throat had gone tight.

“I have some mock-ups of designs for decor. Apparently these things are meant to have themes. You can choose one or come up with your own.” He walked over to her, held out his phone.

On the screen was a picture of a beautifully done nursery. It was football themed. She swiped through the pictures from there. Every design offered things they had discussed before. Colors and subjects she knew she’d told him she liked.

Because he listened. Because, and maybe she did not fully understandwhy, he must love her. None of this was the act of a man who did not care.

She knew she had feelings for him, but she’d been trying to keep them...safe. Controllable. Because loving someone, trusting someone, had always been so...transactional with her parents. With friends. And she knew she had nothing special to offer Cristhian.

Beau was the only relationship she’d ever had that felt real, and she’d chalked that up to being twins. And maybe, if she was going to be really honest with herself, she’d even turned that into a transaction. Her protecting Beau in order to earn her love.

No, she supposed it didn’t take Psychology 101.

“I think I should like to get married,” she said.

He stood very still, his eyes even narrowing a bit as he studied her. “Why?”

She wanted to laugh. It was, somehow, the perfect response.

“Cristhian... My whole life I only wanted someone to care about me...as a person. The way you have shown that to our children has always impressed me, but it isn’t just that. You... You have takenmyfeelings into account. As though they matter.”

“Of course they do.”

“You say that as if you didn’t spend the first part of our time here demanding what I should do.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” He sighed, took the phone back and shoved it into his pocket before turning to face her. “And they do matter to me, Zia. They always will. I am not perfect. I suppose I have made and will make mistakes, but I will always fix them. Always.”

And she knew that he would. Or at least try to. She had compared him to her father when she’d been angry at him, but her father’s orders had never come from a place of care. They came from a place of wanting power.

That had never been Cristhian’s way. Even when he’d been controlling, it had been...to make things right. A world safe for their family. In a strange way, it was not all that different from the way she’d acted to protect Beau. Because at the end of the day, she and Cristhian wanted the same things.

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