Page 14 of Royal Love
As Parker drives me back to the palace, I stare out the window, thinking about everything Dr. Merrick and I discussed. The weight of responsibility—to my country, to Amelia, to our unborn child—sometimes feels crushing. But today, for the first time in weeks, it also feels manageable.
“Everything all right, sir?” Parker asks, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Getting there,” I reply.
When we arrive at the palace, I head straight to my office, needing a moment to process before seeing Amelia. I close the door behind me and walk to my desk, opening the bottom drawer where I keep personal items. Among them is a small wooden box that belonged to my grandfather—the king everyone says I take after, not my father.
Inside, I find what I’m looking for—my grandfather’s compass. He gave it to me before his death, telling me it would always help me find my way home. As a child, I took it literally. Now, I understand the metaphor.
This could be the token Dr. Merrick suggested—a physical reminder of who I want to be, of the legacy I want to create.
I slip the compass into my pocket just as my phone rings. It’s Kate, my new assistant. She’s promised to keep me on track.
“Sir, I’ve moved your interviews to Thursday as requested. You’re free to leave early on Friday.”
“Thank you, Kate. That’s perfect.”
After we hang up, I sit there for a moment, thinking about Dr. Merrick’s advice to be honest with Amelia. We need time awayfrom the palace, away from the constant demands of the crown. We need space to talk, truly talk, before our child arrives.
With newfound determination, I leave my office and head to our private quarters. I find Amelia in our sitting room, a book open on her lap, one hand resting protectively over her growing belly. The sight of her still takes my breath away.
She looks up, her face brightening. “You’re home earlier than I expected.”
“I rearranged some things.” I cross the room and sit beside her, taking her hand in mine. The compass in my pocket presses against my thigh, a comforting weight. “Lia, what do you think about going to the beach house this weekend? Just the two of us. We can leave early Friday.”
Her smile widens, reaching her eyes in that way that makes my heart skip. “I would love to,” she says, squeezing my hand. “More than anything.”
CHAPTER 13
AMELIA
The next afternoon, I’m folding another sundress and tucking it into my suitcase, trying to ignore the dull ache in my lower back. The beach house waits for us—our sanctuary away from the palace, away from prying eyes and scheduled appearances. Just Tristan and me for three glorious days.
“You’re bringing too many outfits,” Shannon comments, perched on the edge of my bed. “It’s only a weekend.”
“Says the woman who isn’t growing out of her clothes by the hour.” I hold up a flowing maxi dress, examining it skeptically. “This fit last week. Now I’m not so sure.”
Shannon laughs, but her eyes are gentle. “Your belly’s barely showing, Amelia.”
“Tell that to my waistbands.” I toss the dress into the suitcase anyway. “And don’t get me started on my bras. Who knew pregnancy would make everything hurt so much? My breasts feel like they’ve been used as punching bags.”
“The price of creating royalty,” Shannon quips, reaching for the dress I just packed and refolding it more neatly.
I collapse onto the bed next to my suitcase, dramatically throwing an arm over my eyes. “I’ve been sick every morningthis week. The royal physician says it’s normal, but there’s nothing dignified about puking into priceless antique toilets.”
“At least Tristan holds your hair back.”
“True.” I smile despite myself. “He’s been annoyingly perfect about everything. Gets up with me no matter how early, makes sure there’s crackers by the bed.” I rub my still-flat stomach thoughtfully. “I think he’s more excited than I am sometimes.”
Shannon’s quiet for a moment, her hands pausing over my suitcase. I lift my head to look at her.
“Everything okay?”
She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wanted to tell you…Parker and I are getting more serious.”
I sit up immediately, my nausea forgotten. “Oh? Do tell.”
“It’s different now,” she says, a blush creeping up her neck. “We’ve been dating for months, but lately it feels like we’re moving to another level.”
