Page 47 of Royal Player
“Yes, the baby,” Gabriel snaps. “Let’s go.”
I watch as Polly rushes to join Gabriel and Anna, who’s resting her hand on her huge stomach and doing some deep breathing. It seems our time is up.
~ ~ ~
Polly
It’s a girl! A precious healthy baby girl. Anna looks tired but happy, her cheeks glowing pink. My eyes well as I step away from the hospital bed to make room for Gabriel, who’s holding the swaddled baby, who’s asleep now after a bout of squalling while she was examined by the doctor. He hands Anna the baby, who tucks her into the crook of her arm, smiling down at her. He strokes Anna’s hair, murmuring to her before kissing the baby on the temple and then kissing her.
I wipe at an errant tear. It was anintenseordeal. Fifteen hours of labor with Gabriel alternately issuing harsh commands at the doctor and nurse (and me) and pacing the room in a seething, silent agony of sympathy pain. I stuck by Anna’s side, feeding her ice chips, holding her hand, and cheering her on. I admit I couldn’t watch when she pushed. I feared nausea or passing out at the gory sight, so I kept my focus on her face. Gabriel came through when it was finally time for the pushing action, supporting her with his soothing words and praise. I think he just felt helpless earlier while the contractions gripped her. Nothing to be done then but bear it.
“Polly, thank you for being here,” Anna says.
I squeeze into the space on the other side of the bed and give her shoulder a light squeeze. My hand is a little sore from her tight grip earlier when the contractions hit. I alternated hands to minimize the damage, so now they’re both sore. “It was an honor. Did you decide on a name?”
She smiles and exchanges a look with Gabriel before turning back to me. “You’re the first to know. Her name is Mila, which means industrious and hardworking.”
“Mila,” I echo. “A beautiful name.”
Anna gazes at her daughter. “I wanted an M name after my foster dad, Mike, and my cousin, Mary.” That’s me. Her brown eyes are warm on mine. “My family.”
I choke on a sob and slap a hand over my mouth. I can’t believe she named her firstborn child in my honor. I drop my hand. “I’m so glad I could be here for her birth. Thank you, Anna, for including me and for naming her after me and Mike. I’m deeply touched.”
She grabs my hand and kisses it. “Oh, you poor thing. Your hand looks bruised. Was I that awful?”
“You were amazing,” I say firmly. “I’m in awe. You set the bar high here. I can only hope I can be as strong and brave as you.”
“Yes, thank you, Polly,” Gabriel says. “It was good to have your backup support here. I know I got…worked up on Anna’s behalf.”
“Worked up?” Anna asks. “You nearly threw the nurse out for not bringing me ice chips fast enough!”
Gabriel’s chest puffs out with pride. “Yes, well, it is my job to see to your well-being and to see that others do too.” He gazes at his daughter and visibly melts, his expression softening. He strokes her tiny hand, and she grips his finger. “She’s the first heiress in more than a hundred years. I cannot wait to see what her leadership as queen brings.”
“She will be magnificent,” Anna proclaims. “The best of you and me. Strong, fierce, and fearless.”
My throat tightens. A daughter expected to be a strong leader. The contrast in expectations between the new heiress and myself could not be more stark.
Gabriel leans close to Anna, the three of them forming a loving tableau. My chest aches with longing. Not just because I wish my leadership was as valued as Mila’s will be. I long for the love that’s a living, breathing thing between them.
I want love in my life for as long as I can have it. I want Oscar.
~ ~ ~
Oscar
My niece, Mila Alexandra Rourke, was born this morning, and Gabriel and Anna are spending another night at the hospital before traveling home. The baby’s middle name is my mother’s name, an honor for the doting grandmother. Polly says she’s traveling back to Villroy tonight. I hope it’s because she missed me as much as I missed her.
I don’t even attempt going to bed. I remain sitting by the window, waiting for her. Just after midnight she texts she’s on her way.
I open my bedroom door at the first quiet knock. She’s in her usual long white silk robe over a long nightgown, a modest ensemble I usually remove as soon as she comes in. But tonight her big brown eyes are watery.
I take her hand, drawing her in, and lock the door behind her. “What’s wrong?”
She reverts back to her native French, which she does when she’s overwhelmed. “She named the baby after me and Mike. TheMin Mila for Mike and Mary. I’m to be her godmother.”
“That’s a good thing. An honor.” I pull her into my arms, and she wraps her arms around my middle, pressing her cheek to my bare chest. All of me relaxes. Her body fits perfectly against mine. Nothing has ever felt so right.
I kiss the top of her head. “Hopefully Mila will have some of your spirit.”
