I stand inside the front hall of my parents’ house, panting after my morning run with Xavier. Well, we don’t run together so much as I run and he strolls next to me, calling out encouraging phrases like, “That’s it, Ms. Sharpe. Pick up that pace. Think of all the calories you’re burning! You’ll be fit, yet!”

So, what used to be my escape from the world has become a somewhat irritating and humbling daily experience. I wait at the door while he gives the house a once-over, which is ridiculous since my parents have been home since we left. I take out my ear-buds and see my mum rushing toward me from the kitchen with tears in her eyes. “Twinkle, why didn’t you tell me?”

She pulls me in for a big hug. Suddenly, my dad appears and he’s hugging me, too. “No wonder you’ve been so moody lately. You shouldn’t be running. Not in your condition.”

I try to speak but my mum’s voice drowns out mine. “You should have told us. We’re not going to be upset with you. It’s not like you’re a teenager or something.”

“Exactly, you’re at the age where you should be getting on this before there are…complications that can come with being a mature parent.”

“What are you talking about?” I pulled back from them.

“The baby, of course.” My mum plants both hands on her hips.

“What baby?”

“Yours and Arthur’s,” my mum says. “We saw it on the news this morning. The phone’s been ringing off the hook since eight.”

Dad shakes his head at me. “Do you know how embarrassing it is for your mum to find out about our next grandchild on the news?”

Mum jumps right in. “Really, Tessa, you should have come to us first. I’ve had to pretend I knew the whole time. I’ve managed to be very coy with people about the due date, but I’m pretty sure Grace next door knows that I had no idea.”

Dad makes a tsking sound. “If she suspects that, it’ll be all over the street by lunchtime.”

“What I can’t understand is if you’re planning for a May wedding, will you even fit into your dress? You’ll be as big as a house by then.”

“Stop.” I raise both hands as well as my voice. “There’s no baby.”

My mum’s face crumples as she reaches for me again. “Oh, darling, come here. It can happen to anyone. Don’t think one miscarriage means you’re infertile.”

“Lots of people go through this. You might just need the help of a doctor.” My dad pats me on the shoulder. “We can call Dr. Fredericks straight away. He’ll know what to do.”

My mum pulls away from me and glares at my father. “Reuben, I’m sure the royal family has access to much better doctors than we do. There’s that clinic in Sweden that has the most advanced techniques in the world. They’ll probably send her there. You know the one. They managed to help a man bring a baby to full term.” She turns to me. “If they can help a man, they can certainly help you.”

Oh, for…”I’m not pregnant and I’ve never been pregnant. I don’t need to go to some clinic in Sweden, and I don’t have the first freaking clue what you’re talking about.”

My mother looks at me for a moment, then straightens her spine. “There’s no need to get snippy about it,” at the same time that my father says, “You don’t have to pretend with us. We’re your parents.”

I sigh and my shoulders drop. “I’m not lying. I don’t have the first idea why the news is reporting that I’m pregnant, because I’m not.”

Dad’s face relaxes. “Oh, so you don’t have fertility issues, then?”

“No!” I say, my tone filled with irritation. “Well, I don’t know. I may have. I’ve never tried, so I suppose it’s a possibility.”

“Cheese and rice!” my mum says, throwing her hands up in the air and turning from me. “Now I’ve gone and told all the neighbours and my cousins that you are pregnant and I’m going to look like a complete idiot!”

She disappears into the kitchen, her words trailing behind her. “What am I supposed to tell them now? If you weren’t pregnant, you really should have told us!”

Text from Lars to Me: Are you seriously pregnant? Have you not ever heard of birth control? Seriously, Tessa. Total embarrassment.

Text from Bram: So, you were knocking boots and now you’re knocked up, hey? Dumb arse.

Text from Nikki: OMG! I can’t believe you’re having a baby! You probably should have at least waited until you were almost all the way down the aisle, but who cares? I’m so excited! I’m going to be an auntie! Well, sort of. Anyway, Yay!

Email from Hazel:

Subject Line: If You Need a Friend, My Door is Always Open

Dear Tessa,

I wanted to check with you to see if we’re okay, since you didn’t feel comfortable sharing the news of your pregnancy with me. Don’t worry, I’m not mad that you let ABNC scoop us on your pregnancy story. Just concerned that, somehow, I’ve damaged our relationship.

I was also hoping that maybe you and Arthur would agree to an interview to give the due date and your true feelings about becoming a mother so quickly. Or perhaps even reveal the baby’s sex on our website? But only if and when you’d be ready to talk about it. No pressure, sweetie. But it would be SUCH the big scoop for the team, wouldn’t it?

All the very best,

Hazel

P.S. Let me know if you need anything. I’ve started looking into Avonia’s maternity leave policy and see that it’s horribly lacking. Only six months of paid leave? We may need to do a story about that. Back home, it’s a full year.

* * *

It’s exactly eight p.m. when we cross the bridge that leads to the tiny island on which Valcourt Palace sits. I have to admit that I was a bit on edge this afternoon because I made the mistake of looking at the #BrookeIsBetter Twitter feed during my lunch break. Those people really hate me with a vengeance. Wow. The crappy thing is that one of them has managed to dig up a photo of Brooke and Arthur standing together at a polo match from a few years back and the picture is just so cozy. She’s looking perfectly lovely in a fitted, light yellow dress and Arthur’s in his polo uniform. They’re laughing about something; her hand is on his chest in that ‘Oh, Arthur, you are just too funny, please ask me to marry you’ sort of way.

It shouldn’t bother me. It was a long time ago and, as far as I know, they have never been more than friends. And even if they were more than friends at one point, that’s over and he’s with me. So, I will not now or ever lower myself by asking him about her. Grace Kelly would never ask about an old girlfriend. She wouldn’t have been bothered with silly, insignificant details like exes or stupid people posting nasty things on social media. A true princess rises above it all, never letting pettiness or insecurity cloud her sunny outlook on the world.

I may have slipped up and called Finn earlier this afternoon to ask his opinion of the whole ‘can a man and a woman truly be platonic’ debate. But, now I’m over What’s-Her-Name and her sickeningly gorgeous self with her hands all over my fiancé’s chest. It was a million years ago. Done. Finito.

Even though Finn’s words are still bashing around in my brain…

“Let me guess, Arthur has a close female friend and you’re trying to determine how threatened to be?”

“I wouldn’t say close.”

“Don’t go down this road, Tess. It’s a dead end.”

“Just, please, answer the question, Finn.”

“Fine. Your funeral. How hot is she?”

“Pretty hot. Like a solid nine.”

“Yeah, in that case, Arthur has definitely thought about sleeping with her.”

I sighed. “Really? What about if her personality isn’t so great? Like maybe she’s boring or something?”

“Doesn’t matter. Every guy does a quick sex inventory of every non-related women he meets. It’s an automatic reflex, like breathing out after you breathe in. It just happens without you thinking about it. If she’s hot, all her guy friends will want to nail her.”

“Awesome. Glad I asked.”

“My advice? Don’t worry about whoever she is. Arthur proposed to you, not her. But, at the same time, keep your eyes open. It’s not like you know him all that well, so who knows? He could be a cheating fuck.”

Xavier stops the car at the front entrance to the palace and says what he always does when he parks. “Another safe landing courtesy of yours truly.” Then he chuckles as he gets out of the car and hurries around to try to beat me to the door, which he never does. I can open my own doors, thank you very much.

I look up and see Arthur sitting on the third step, grinning at me. He runs one hand through his dark blond hair and, God, he’s so manly and gorgeous in jeans and that grey hoodie. How is he so good-looking? And that look on his face says he is not a cheating fuck, but a man very much in love. What was I worried about a minute ago?

We hurry to each other like a couple of cheesy fools in a Hallmark movie. He wraps his arms around me and picks me up as he plants a lingering kiss on my mouth. Oh, that was nice. There’s a reason those movies are so popular. When he puts me down, he smiles at Xavier. “I’ve got her from here.”

“Excellent. I’ll be right here waiting. You two kids have fun, now.” You kids. Xavier’s only thirty-five.

Arthur takes my hand and we walk along the path that leads to the back of the palace.

“Been looking forward to this for days. Quite the luxury to have you all to myself for an entire evening.”

“Well, we’re not really alone, are we?” I look up at him and smile. “There are, what, one hundred people on staff this evening?”

“Not where we’re going.” He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I know how badly you need time away from the world since you don’t have your own place anymore.”

“Oh, God, yes. It’s a bit of a zoo, Arthur. Kids and cats and parents in and out of my bedroom every few minutes.”

“Well, tonight it’s just you and me. I’m going to feed you chocolate and make sure that, by the time you leave here, you will be the most relaxed, most satisfied woman on the planet.”

We stroll along in the cool evening air until we reach the solarium. Arthur opens the door and glances down at me excitedly. When we step inside, I gasp. There are tiny twinkling white lights and lit candles everywhere among the plants. The effect is magical and I feel myself transported away from the real world as soon as the door closes behind us.

“This is amazing.” I turn to Arthur and wrap my arms around his neck, then give him a long kiss on the mouth. “You’re amazing,” I say, smiling up at him.

“I know. Now, come with me, my lady, I may have managed to rustle up that chocolate soufflé I promised you the other night.”

He leads me to a table set for two with silver domes covering plates. When I sit, Arthur takes a cloth napkin and fans it out on my lap. He then lifts the domes to unveil a perfectly baked dark chocolate soufflé with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream on the side, garnished with a few carefully placed raspberries and some mint leaves.

“I was thinking we should forget the rest of the world exists and spend the rest of the evening thoroughly enjoying each other.”

“Sounds perfect.” I watch as he fills two flutes with Champagne, then sits down. Handing me a glass, he then holds his up to mine. “Oh, wait. Should you be having Champagne? I saw on the news that I knocked you up already.”

“Turns out it was fake news,” I say.

“Then drink up.” He smiles. “To us. To being alone. To being alone together.”

Our glasses make a most satisfying clinking sound when they touch and as the first burst of cool bubbles washes over my tongue, I all but forget about What’s-Her-Name in the yellow dress and the I Hate Tessa people. See? I am definitely going to rise above it all.

The first bite of soufflé is mouth-wateringly amazing. Like, literally, my mouth is watering and begging me for more. Oh yes, mouth, I think I will. Besides, I don’t have to fit into a wedding dress until spring. There’ll be loads of time to get in shape after tonight. Well, not that much time, actually. Hmm…maybe I should decide now how much to leave on the plate.

“Eat up, Sharpe. You’re already in perfect shape,” he says, staring at me with one raised eyebrow. “Besides, I’ll help you work it off. I promise.”

I laugh as I pick up my Champagne and gesture with it. “How is that you can already read my thoughts?”

“Careful observation combined with a decent base knowledge of the fairer sex.”

Oh dear, I hope he doesn’t mean She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. “Oh, and with whom have you acquired this base knowledge?”

“Not like that. I have a sister, remember? And a grandmother, of whom I’m very fond.”

“Right. I almost forgot. Where are they this evening?”

“Gran is probably watching telly by now, and Arabella is chasing the sun. I think she’s gone to Portugal, if I’m not mistaken.” He has a bite of dessert and gives me a thoughtful look while he chews. “Where would you like to go on our honeymoon?”

Honeymoon. I haven’t even thought of that yet but, oh my God, it’s going to be amazing, isn’t it? I fight the impulse to jump up and down and squeal like a fifteen-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert. “I haven’t given it any thought, actually.”

“Where have you always wanted to go but never got to? First place that pops into your mind.”

“The Maldives. No, Mauritius. No, wait, Maui.”

Arthur chuckles. “Let’s do them all.”

“Them all? We couldn’t possibly… That would be far too expensive and… and how much time could you actually take for a honeymoon?”

“I’m pretty sure I could take a month, but I imagine it really depends on whether you’ll still have your job at that point.”

I put down my fork. “Urgh. I still haven’t worked out when to leave.”

“I was thinking about that,” Arthur says, topping off my Champagne. “Why don’t we sit down and sort out which charities you’d like to be involved with so we can set that up ahead of time? That way, when you do leave the paper, it can be because of your charitable commitments, and not because you’re a gold-digging hussy.”

“Arse.” I chuckle, feeling a hint of relief at having a possible solution. “You really do want to take care of me, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. It’s my main focus in life now, which is not necessarily a good thing, what with running the kingdom and all.” Arthur picks up my hand and brushes his lips against my knuckles. “I say, as far as your job goes, we take it one step at a time. Set up the charities, talk to your boss about what will work well for her, then quietly make your exit when the moment is right.”

“You’re good at this.”

“Good at what?” he asks, taking another bite of soufflé.

“All of it—sorting out problems, making me feel better, taking a bad day and turning it into something wonderful…”

He grins at me over the candle. “There is literally nothing I’d rather do than make you feel better. Now, back to the honeymoon. I want to take you to every magical place on the planet. Anywhere and everywhere you’ve ever wanted to see.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Where have you always wanted to go but haven’t had the chance?”

“Nowhere really. I’ve pretty much been everywhere, but whatever I did before I met you is completely irrelevant. Traveling with you will be completely new and wonderful.”

“So, I can decide?”

“Yes. You decide and I’ll happily take you.” He places his napkin on top of his plate and stands, then walks over to a small sound system and turns it on. Almost immediately, John Legend’s voice surrounds us. Arthur turns to me and holds out his hand. “Dance with me.”

I stand and cross the candlelit room to him; we hold each other and our bodies start moving together to the slow beat as I rest my head on his broad shoulder. “You’d better be careful, Arthur, I’ve heard it’s a mistake to be too romantic at the beginning of a relationship because if you can’t keep it up, your wife will forever long for the younger, better version of you.”

“Oh, I’ll be able to keep it up, all right.” He spins and dips me, then lowers his face to my neck. Nibbling on my earlobe he causes me to giggle, then picks me back up and spins me again and pulls me back into his arms. “Things won’t ever be dull between us, Tessa. I promise.”

“Somehow I believe that. I can just tell by looking at you. You mean every word, don’t you?” I run a finger over his cheek and down to his lips.

“When it comes to you, I do.” He gazes into my eyes and the look is so intense, so full of emotion, I can’t think of a witty response. Or any response at all, really.

Arthur kisses me on the neck, then says, “When it comes to you, I find myself saying far too much. It’s rather stupid of me because, if I’m not careful, you’re going to get the upper hand.”

“I got the upper hand the first time we met. I’m surprised you’ve forgotten.”

Arthur grins and laughs a little. “You only got the upper hand because I gave it to you.”

“Ha! That’s the biggest load of horse shit I’ve ever heard. I took it and you bloody well know it.”

“I let you take it because of your hotness.” He twirls us with the grace of a ballroom dancer and I know he’s doing it to distract me. “I was desperate to get you into bed.”

“That, I believe.”

“Good, because it’s true.” And then he kisses me, and kissing turns into so much more. Before I know it, our clothes are in a pile on the old stone floor and we’re on top of them, our bodies moving together in an entirely more satisfying and delicious type of dance. His eyes lock on mine and he looks at me as though it’s the first time he’s ever seen my face. I’m suddenly overcome by how beautiful he can make me feel just by the way he stares at me. I want to be looked at this way for the rest of my life, and I know with every fiber of my being that this is exactly the way it will always be between us. No matter how many people want us to break up.

An hour or so later we’re in his bed, having come back to his private apartment in the palace for round two. Our bodies are a tangled mass of sweaty human as we stare up at the ceiling, smiling and panting while we try to recover. The Champagne is wearing off and, as it does, that yucky little feeling settles back into my gut.

“That was mind-blowingly wonderful.” Arthur turns his face and gives me a kiss on the forehead. “Seriously amazing.” Kiss. “Award-winning level of sex. And don’t pretend it wasn’t that good for you just so you can get another round out of me. I’m up for it anyway. Well, in a few minutes I will be.”

I laugh because that’s exactly what I was about to do. “You can hardly blame me, can you? I mean, if you got to see yourself naked, you’d be doing whatever you could to get you into bed and keep you there.”

“I have seen myself naked. We have mirrors all over the place here and I can say, with one hundred percent certainty, I’d much rather look at you.”

“Well, then, this should work out just fine.”

“Yes, it should.” He gives me a quick kiss on the lips, then says, “You look thirsty. I’ll be right back.”

He stands and pulls on a pair of boxer-briefs then strides across the bedroom, giving me a most spectacular view of his incredible backside. As soon as he leaves the room, I flop back on the pillow and think about how lucky I am. I don’t know why I let those stupid I Hate Tessa people get to me. They don’t know Arthur the way I do. We’re perfect for each other, no matter what anyone else thinks.

Damn. That stupid photo just popped into my head and now I’m thinking about the fact that, at some point, Arthur must have wanted to shag Brooke. Maybe I should come right out and ask him if he and Brooke have ever been an item. It would be the smart thing to do. Just get it out in the open.

He returns, carrying two tumblers and a large bottle of water, along with a bag of crisps under his arm. Dexter, Arthur’s pot-bellied pig, who has been sleeping soundly on the couch, trots in behind him. Arthur hands me a glass, then fills both before he settles himself next to me.

I prop myself up on one elbow and look at him. I’m just going to leave it alone. But surely, even Grace Kelly would have asked Prince Rainer in a very round-about, general sort of way. It’s no good to let these things fester. And if I can just reassure myself, then I can let this whole thing go and forget it forever. Yes, best to ask. “Have you ever felt this way about anyone before?”

“Nope, never.”

Good answer. Stop now while you’re ahead, Tessa. “Promise?”

Arthur narrows his eyebrows. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know. I’m just wondering.”

“Why?”

“Why aren’t you answering the question?” I sit up and tuck the sheet under my armpits.

“I did answer, which only led to you asking again. My Spidey senses are tingling right now, which means you’ve likely got a hell of a whammy queued up and I’d rather get out ahead of it, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t have a whammy coming your way. I was just curious.” I have a sip of water, and when I look at him the expression on his face calls me on my evasiveness. Sighing, I say, “I saw an old photo of you and Brooke today online. It kind of bothered me.”

He shrugs. “She’s just a friend. You know that.”

“Yes, but has she always been in the friend zone?”

“Of course she has, but even if she had been more to me at one point, would it really matter now? You have exes, so do I.”

“I know it shouldn’t bother me, but—”

“It does anyway?” He grins at me. “Ms. Sharpe, are you a little bit jealous?”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Not jealous. More like needing to have some assurance.”

Arthur purses his lips for a second, then says, “Explain, please.”

“We’ve only known each other for seven months. I guess I found myself curious about whether you’ll be…” Oh, shit. How do I say this without saying it?

He raises one eyebrow. “A cheating bastard?”

“I was going to say faithful.”

“I’m really surprised you feel the need to ask that. It’s a little insulting, actually.”

“I’m not trying to insult you…” What am I trying to do?

“You’re just insinuating that you’re not sure if I’ll cheat on you or not.” His smile is gone now.

“Well, it’s not like we’ve ever discussed the matter of fidelity.”

“Is it negotiable?”

My head snaps back. “What? No, of course not.”

“Why discuss it if it’s not negotiable?”

My muscles tense up. “People do discuss things that aren’t negotiable. It’s part of getting to know someone. And I’m pretty sure we should really know each other if we’re going to get married. However, the fact that you have found a way to avoid answering the question is honestly a bit alarming.”

“Avoided the question? I’m merely pointing out the fact that the question itself is unnecessary in hopes of putting to rest any other ridiculous accusations disguised as questions.” He sets his water down on the night table and opens the bag of crisps.

“I’m not stupid, you know. You can’t use your Jedi mind trickery to make me forget that you still haven’t answered the question.”

His eyes hardened. “Fine. I won’t cheat on you. Next topic: Are you going to kill me in my sleep one day?”

“What? That’s a horrible thing to ask me!”

“Oh, you’re avoiding the question. Must mean that you’re thinking of doing it…” He pops a chip into his mouth and maintains eye contact while he chews.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“The smug chewing. Don’t do that. I don’t like it.”

“Smug chewing?” he asks, looking far too amused for my liking.

“You knew exactly what you were doing with that crisp.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You know what? I’m not going to sit here being smugly chewed at.” I stand and cross the room, picking up my knickers and sliding them on. I pluck my bra off the lamp shade and stick my arms through the straps furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” I jam my sweater over my head and I’m now standing in my socks and my cardigan, having forgotten my T-shirt and jeans in my desire to flee.

“It looks to me like you’re getting dressed and quite possibly preparing to leave, which would seem like a very bad idea given the fact that we’re in the middle of an argument and we won’t see each other for three days.”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea. It’s exactly what you do when you don’t want to be around a complete arse.” I hunt around until I find my T-shirt then tug my cardigan up over my head, managing to get my arms tangled in the sleeves. I struggle for a minute, my entire body heating up with irritation and embarrassment. Very elegant, Tessa. Come on arms, really? Don’t do this right now when I’m trying to make a point.

Just when I’m starting to feel that panic that sets in when you really have to pee and you can’t get your wet swimsuit off, I feel the sweater being gently lifted off of me.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” I snap.

“Calm down, I’m just trying to help.”

“You did not just say that.” I cover myself with the cardigan and glare.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Christ. What is it with women and being asked to calm down?”

“First of all, you didn’t ask. You ordered.” I waggle my finger in front of his nose. “And I’m surprised you don’t know this about me yet, but here’s a news flash for you: I don’t exactly take well to being ordered around.”

“And I don’t like being accused of something I have not and would never do. So, perhaps you’d do well to apologize rather than getting all high and mighty. This really is not the way to get what you want.”

“Thanks for the advice! Is that what you read in The Art of War?” I spit out. “Or did you learn that bit of wisdom watching The Godfather?”

“Wow. Tessa, I’m doing my best to stay calm and be logical about this. I would appreciate it if you could do the same.”

“Sure, it’s easy for you to stay all calm and logical. You’re not the one having to look at photos of women everyone considers to be much more suitable for your fiancé!” I sigh and look down at Dexter, who is now sniffing along the bed in search of the bag of crisps. He looks up at me with his big black eyes, and I swear the look on his face is suggesting that I calm down. “You know what? I’m just gonna go. I’m sorry that I brought it up.”

I hop up and down until I finally have my jeans pulled up, then exit the bedroom to find my suede boots. By the time I’m fully dressed my anger has drained away, and in its place regret fills my body. I turn to see Arthur in just his jeans, leaning against the door jamb, watching me. The look on his face melts me completely. I sigh and let my shoulders drop. “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing…I’m just really scared. There’s about five million people who don’t want us to be together and only two people that I know for sure who do. And now there’s the I Hate Tessa Club…”

His eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

“On Twitter. It started the night we got engaged. #BrookeIsBetter.”

“What? How the fuck did I not hear about this?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve been pretending it’s not happening, which includes not telling you about it.”

“Oh, Christ. Come here, you.” He holds out his arms to me.

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“Very much. I need to hold you until you forget all about those ugly people.”

I walk to him and he wraps his arms around me and holds me close to his chest.

Pressing his lips to my forehead, he holds them there for a long time before saying, “I had no idea you were under this kind of pressure. Is that really the hashtag? Brooke Is Better?”

“Yes,” I groan.

Arthur sighs. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that. People can be fucking awful.”

“I suppose I deserve it. I spent years being one of those awful people.”

“No, you—”

I look up at him with pursed lips. “It’s okay, Arthur. You can admit it.”

“Okay, so you were pretty much the most awful of the bunch,” he says with a hint of a smile. “But you more than made up for all of that. Is it too much to ask for the rest of the nation to forgive and forget it?”

“I think it may be,” I say. “We’re going to have to accept the fact that a lot of people—in fact, most people—won’t approve of our relationship, or understand it. Quite possibly for a very long time.”

“Which means it’s even more imperative that we believe in us.”

We hold each other for a deliciously long time. He rubs my back with one hand, and the feeling is so hypnotic I find myself melting in his arms. “I believe in us, Arthur. I do. I guess I just let them get to me today.”

“Promise me one thing,” he says.

“Anything.”

“That you’ll come to me straightaway if you read, see, or hear anything in the news about us that upsets you.”

“I promise.”

Planting a kiss on my head, he says, “Good. It’s the only way we’re going to get through this together.”

“Okay. Deal. I also promise I’ll never murder you in your sleep.”

“I appreciate that.”