Page 56 of American Prince (New Camelot Trilogy 2)
Ash had set the tone when Merlin walked in, tucking Greer into his side and clasping my hand unabashedly in his own. I clasped tightly back. After the abduction, everything felt so fragile, so tenuous, that we needed to cling to each other. More than that, it felt strangely nice to stand together so openly in front of someone, to face someone with honesty, to say I love two people and they love me.
Besides, Merlin knew the history between Ash and me. It wasn’t paranoia to think he’d deduce our unconventional arrangement eventually.
Merlin, somewhat predictably, wasn’t fazed by the sight of the three of us. He nodded once, and then started in on his usual litany about public perception, which always began with If you want to be re-elected to this office…
We had to be careful, he said. We had to be more than discreet, in fact we had to make discretion itself seem audacious in comparison. Not a word, not a whisper. No rumors about me and Greer, none about Ash and me. The world had to keep believing Greer was America’s Sweetheart, me America’s unrepentant playboy, and it was up to us to craft that perception, cultivate it like a crop. Trieste the Press Secretary would have to be brought into the loop, that Kay and Belvedere would know was inevitable, but absolutely no one else could learn about our triad.
Ever.
Not if Ash wanted another four years in office, at least.
I saw Ash bite his lip at Merlin’s words, and I yanked my hand out of his. “Don’t you dare,” I warned him.
He looked at me with a mild expression. “Don’t I dare what?”
“You know,” I said irritably. “You know exactly what. You gave up everything to be here and so did I—and you’re not finished yet.”
“He’s right,” Greer added quietly. “Think of all the things you’re still working on. Renewable energy, overhauling veteran support, public education—not to mention Carpathia. You won’t be finished after another two years, Ash. You need more time, and this country deserves it from you.”
“But it’s something to think about,” Ash said carefully, looking at each of our faces. “Another…what, six years of hiding?”
“Six and a half,” Merlin interjected. Ash ignored him, continuing to look at us.
“Is that really fair to ask of ourselves?”
Greer, the political royalty in the room, put her hand against Ash’s face. “You’re asking the wrong question about fairness. Is it really fair to this country for you to step down for a personal sacrifice we’ve already agreed to? We have the rest of our lives. We can spare six years.”
“Six and a half,” Merlin corrected again.
Ash sighed but didn’t answer.
“A baby,” Merlin said out of nowhere. “A baby would help too.”
We all swiveled our heads to look at him.
Merlin nodded at Greer, at her hand still on Ash’s face. “We’re going to have to keep churning out lots of pictures just like this, but imagine how much better they’ll look with Greer pregnant.”
Ash and I both looked at Greer, and I knew we were picturing the same thing—our bride, her stomach swollen with our child. It wouldn’t even matter whose child, I thought to myself, my eyes tracing the flat firmness of her stomach through her sundress. The child would be ours, the joy would be ours, the—
Except it wouldn’t, would it? Not in the White House, not with the eyes of the world on us. I’d be relegated to the role of bachelor uncle, a spectator, even though the child might even be biologically mine. My heart ached preemptively at the thought.
The blood drained from Greer’s face, and Merlin seemed to take some pity. “Not right away,” he assured her, “but optimally during the re-election campaign.”
She was shaking her head. “No, it’s not what you said…I mean yes, but…” Her silver eyes found mine and Ash’s. “I haven’t taken my birth control since the day of the wedding. I just, in all the things that I happened, I didn’t…”
She looked like she was about to cry. Weirdly, I felt that way too, but I wasn’t sure why. Fear? Excitement? How many times had Ash and I come inside her since then? What were the odds? Were they vast?
Did I want them to be?
Thinking about it again now, the next day and on the other side of the country, I still can’t figure that out. If Greer’s pregnant, it changes everything. If she’s not already, but the three of us decide she should have a child, it changes everything.
Don’t forget your date, Trieste texts me.
I sigh. My fucking date. An old booty call I’d take out to dinner, get photographed with, and then drop off at her doorstep without so much as a kiss. After what Greer, Ash, and I have shared since the wedding—Christ, has it only been a week?—the idea of sleeping with someone else is beyond ridiculous, past distasteful. I don’t want anyone else. Period. The end. But in a cruel twist of fate, I have to pretend to want other people in order to stay with the ones I love.
Wouldn’t miss it for the world, I text back, hoping the text hides how fucking surly I am about this.
Trieste’s response is placating. You know I don’t like all this hiding and faking, but Merlin is the best at what he does. Normally, I’d always advocate for being honest, but in your case…
