Page 45 of Royal Love
“Don’t encourage him.” But I can’t help smiling as I spot Tristan across the room, deep in conversation with Kate, his assistant. Even from here, I can see he’s gesturing toward me,probably giving her instructions about clearing his schedule further as my due date approaches.
More guests arrive—palace staff who have become like family, a few trusted friends from before my royal life, some dignitaries who couldn’t be excluded without causing diplomatic incidents. The room fills with conversation and laughter.
I settle into a comfortable chair that someone (undoubtedly Tristan) has positioned perfectly for me to see everything without being overwhelmed by well-wishers. As if summoned by my thoughts, he appears beside me, perching on the arm of my chair.
“Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice low.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, squeezing his hand. “Go mingle. Be kingly.”
He snorts. “I’d rather be husbandly.”
“Later,” I promise with a meaningful look that makes his eyes darken. Even with my enormous belly between us, the chemistry hasn’t faded.
The shower proceeds with games (tasteful ones, thankfully—my mother knows I’d never forgive her for anything involving melted chocolate in diapers), gift opening, and food. Through it all, Tristan never strays far from my side, and I catch myself watching him more than once.
He’s changed since we met. Still the same strong, sometimes stubborn man, but softer around the edges now. More willing to laugh, to show vulnerability. I’d like to think I’ve had something to do with that transformation, just as he’s helped me grow more confident in my role as queen.
“Earth to Amelia,” Shannon says, waving a hand in front of my face. “Lost in thought?”
“Just thinking about how much has changed,” I admit. “Back when all this first started, I had no idea what was waiting for me.I was nervous as hell to meet Tristan, and thought he’d be so cold. I had an allowance, and I was supposed to myself pure for my new role.”
“Now you’re opening gifts worth more than my annual salary?” She gestures to the antique silver rattle I’ve just unwrapped from the Ambassador of France.
“Now I’m preparing to raise a child in a castle,” I correct her. “It’s surreal.”
“You’re going to be an amazing mother,” Shannon says with such conviction that I blink back sudden tears.
“Sorry,” I say, dabbing at my eyes. “Hormones.”
“Blame everything on hormones while you can,” she advises. “It’s the one perk of pregnancy everyone can agree on.”
The afternoon wears on, and I find myself genuinely enjoying the celebration despite my earlier reluctance. Watching Tristan’s face as we open each gift—his confusion over some of the more obscure baby items, his genuine delight at the handmade blanket from Kate, his touched expression when my mother presents us with my own preserved baby booties—fills me with a happiness so intense it’s almost painful.
As the event winds down, I find myself seated between my mother and Tristan, watching the remaining guests chat in small groups.
“I never thought I’d see this day,” my mother says softly, her hand covering mine.
“Me becoming a mother?” I ask.
“You being so completely happy,” she corrects me. “I always knew you’d be a wonderful mother when the time came. But this”—she gestures around the room, at the life I’ve built— “this exceeds even my highest hopes for you.”
I lean my head against her shoulder, feeling for a moment like a little girl again. “Thank you for being here for all of it.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” She kisses the top of my head, then stands. “Now, I think you need to rest before you fall asleep right here. Tristan, take my daughter to bed.”
“Mom!” I protest, feeling my cheeks heat.
“To sleep,” she clarifies with a knowing smile that makes me blush deeper. “Though what you do before sleeping is none of my business.”
Tristan, to his credit, manages to keep a straight face as he helps me to my feet. “Yes, ma’am.”
As we make our way out of the salon, I lean against him, suddenly exhausted but content. Our baby is loved, not just by us but by an entire community of people who will help us raise them. A village, royal style.
“Did you have a good time?” Tristan asks as we walk slowly toward our private wing.
“Better than I expected,” I admit. “Though I’m ready to be alone with you now.”
He tightens his arm around my waist. “Just wait until you see what I’ve done with the nursery while you were distracted.”
