Page 50 of Royal Love
Relief washes over me. Surely Tristan will be here by then. Shannon’s phone buzzes, and she steps away to answer it, returning moments later with a smile.
“That was Parker. Tristan’s helicopter just landed at the palace. He’ll be here within twenty minutes.”
Twenty minutes. I can handle anything for twenty minutes. As if to challenge this resolve, another contraction seizes me, stronger than any before. I grip the bedrails, trying to remember my breathing, but a moan escapes me anyway.
Shannon takes my hand, letting me squeeze as the pain peaks, then gradually subsides. “You’re doing great,” she encourages.
“This hurts more than I expected,” I admit once I can speak again.
“Do you want to discuss pain management options?” the doctor asks. “We have everything available, from an epidural to?—”
“Not yet,” I interrupt. “I want to wait for Tristan.”
She nods understandingly. “Of course. I’ll check back in an hour unless you need me sooner.”
As the medical team steps out, leaving just Shannon and me with a nurse monitoring the machines, I feel another wave of vulnerability wash over me.
“What if I’m terrible at this?” I ask Shannon, voicing the fear that’s been lingering beneath the surface for months. “At being a mother, I mean.”
She sits on the edge of my bed, her expression serious. “Do you remember last year when that five-year-old girl presented you with flowers at the children’s hospital? She was so nervous she dropped them, and you got down on your knees in that ridiculously expensive gown to help her pick them up.”
I nod, remembering the child’s trembling lip and my instinctive desire to comfort her.
“Or the time you stayed up all night with the ambassador’s teenage daughter when she was having a crisis about her future? Or how you personally revamped the entire royal education initiative because you didn’t think it was serving children properly?”
“That’s different,” I protest. “That’s just being decent.”
“That’s being a natural nurturer,” Shannon corrects me. “You care, Amelia. Deeply and genuinely. That’s the most important quality in a parent.”
Before I can respond, the door bursts open, and Tristan rushes in, still wearing his coat, his hair disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it.
“Lia!” he exclaims, immediately coming to my side and taking my hand. “Are you all right? Is the baby okay?”
The sight of him—worried, slightly rumpled, completely focused on me—releases something tight in my chest. “We’re both fine,” I assure him. “You made it.”
“Of course I made it,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I told the pilot I’d take over if he didn’t get me here in time.”
The mental image of Tristan attempting to fly a helicopter makes me laugh despite everything. “I’m sure that went over well.”
“He seemed to take the threat seriously,” Tristan says with a small smile, his thumb stroking the back of my hand.
Shannon rises from her spot on the bed. “I’ll give you two some privacy. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
“Shannon,” I call as she reaches the door. She turns back, and I try to convey everything I’m feeling with my eyes. “Thank you.”
She nods, understanding all I’m not saying, and slips out.
Tristan takes her place on the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning my face. “How are you really doing?”
“Scared,” I admit, knowing I don’t need to pretend with him. “Excited. In pain. All of the above.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when it started,” he says, guilt clouding his features.
“You’re here now,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. “That’s what matters.”
Another contraction begins to build, and I tense, gripping his hand tighter. “Talk to me,” I manage to say between clenched teeth. “Distract me.”
He launches into a story about his helicopter ride, how he practically ordered the pilot to break speed records, how Parker kept trying to remind him of security protocols while Tristan was focused solely on getting to me. His voice anchors me as the pain crests and recedes.
