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“It’s just nerves. The press conference,” Mom says as coming into my bathroom. She came up to my room after I didn’t come down for breakfast. Baby Daisy is giggling in her crib in the corner of my room. I officially adopted her. How could I not?
“No, Mom. I don’t think that’s it. Can you call for Dr. Pomeroy?”
“Of course, dear.”
Two hours later, my suspicions are confirmed. I’m pregnant. I’m carrying the man I love’s baby—the man I can’t stop thinking about—the man who hasn’t called me once in six weeks—six entire weeks. But I can’t think about that right now. I have a press conference to give.
I go to City Hall from the palace with Martin and Dante. As I stand behind the podium on the steps outside, the camera flashes, and journalists start screaming my name. I’m nauseous, and nerves have nothing to do with it. I want Christopher. I miss him. I need him.
“Princess Anya! Princess Anya!”
“I know you all have questions, but please allow me to make a statement beforehand. A few weeks ago, I met a man, a nice, hardworking man who grew up here in our orphanage. As he told me of his childhood and his experience, I was prompted to begin an investigation into the orphanage, and what I discovered was heartbreaking. Several arrests have been made and working their way through the court system while I overhaul the orphanage. Without this man, Christopher, this would not have been discovered, and our orphaned children who need us the most would continue to suffer. My father, our beloved King, has granted these survivors knighthood. All forty of them.”
I can do this. I can do anything.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHRISTOPHER
It's good to be home. The two weeks away have done me good and I have my head on right. The two weeks I spent in Sealandia were hectic, to say the least. Herb, the guy who runs the dock, had five new fishermen who had no clue what they were doing regarding navigating a boat. It was great, though, because I didn't have much downtime, which meant less time to think and dwell.
I cleared my head, and I felt more like myself. After dumping my duffel in the house and checking on my fish tank, I drive to the dock to let Mal know I am back and to check on my boat. “I have been checking on your baby, Chris. She is doing just fine.” Chuckling, I thank him and look it over. I’m hit with a momentary second of melancholy before I rope it back in. I am fine. I know who I am, and I can live with that.
I am noticing a bunch of media everywhere and wondering what I missed. I did notice a certain something in the air when I drove though the bridge. There is an urgency or a change in the air that I can’t quite place, but it is leaving me curious.
I stop in the market first to grab a few things and stock up. While idling through the aisle, I hear whispers and words like ‘Royal,’ ‘scandal,’ and ‘press conference.’ I try to hear more of what they are saying, but then the announcement comes over the speaker about the sales going on, and all is lost.
Deciding to ignore the gossip and such, I load up my groceries and put them in the tail end of my truck. Looking at the time, I see I have a few minutes for the half-off beers left, so I drive towards the bar. On the way, I passed a lot of trucks at city hall, and once again, my curiosity peaked. I walk inside the bar, and everything is buzzing. “Yo Chris, welcome back. I heard you were up in Sealandia.”
“I was. They needed some help with navigation training. But I'm back now. Can I have a Lager please?”
“Sure thing.” I am sitting here trying to ignore that I was with Anya the last time I was here. “Here you go, buddy.”
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing the beer and taking a swig. “Hey, what is going on? Everyone seems to be up in arms about something.” He looks at me like I am somehow new to town.
“You really have been gone. Well a scandal broke out a couple of weeks ago which resulted in a number of firings within the royal chamber.”
“No shit. I wonder what happened.” He shrugs.
“I'm not really sure about that, but it seems there is going to be a press conference to tell us all about it in the next few minutes.” For a second, my heart begins to skip thinking of seeing her face, and then it drops, remembering the Royals hardly ever do their own press. It will probably be a mouthpiece.
It is amazing how easy it is for the things you ran from to show up in the same spot when you return. The problem is the memories are also in my home. Hell. I am going to have to move. Throwing back my last sip, I slam it on the bar and reach back to grab my wallet when I look up and see the one face that can bring me to my knees. Anya. “Hey, turn that up.” I motion to the TV. Nodding, he grabs the remote, and the whole room quiets down. Now, there is only her voice. The voice that gave me many hard-ons is filling this space.
“I know you all have questions but please allow me to make a statement beforehand. A few weeks ago I met a man, a nice hardworking man who grew up here in our orphanage. As he told me of his childhood and his experience…”
I check out the rest of what she is saying because my eyes are more concerned about how pale she looks. She looks ill. She looks sad, and she looks like I feel… miserable. Love shouldn’t make you feel miserable, right? Love? As soon as the word flies through my head, I jerk back, and dizziness hits me. Love. I love her. I am in love with Anya, Princess of Evergreen. Holy shit. I am such a dumbass. How did I not realize it until now?
I am up out of my seat before I can think straight. It's not until I am in my car that I pause and ask myself. “Does she love you back?” My mind flashes scenes of our two days together like the best movie I’ve ever seen.
Those days are like a broken record in my head, the pictures clear yet faraway, but as I go over them, what I assumed was just fun could have been love and happiness. I know that is what it was for me. “Screw it.” I start up the truck and drive the five minutes to the steps of city hall. When I get out of my truck I see her talking to someone not a part of the press, and I assume the press conference is over. “Anya,” I yell her name over the crowd of people. Pushing my way through people, I call her name again. “Anya.” She turns immediately and calls my name.
“Christopher. Christopher.” I push through a couple dozen reporters, and finally, I stand before the keeper of my happiness. She locks eyes with me and runs right into my arms. “Oh my God, Christopher. I thought I would never see you again.” She cries into my chest. Everything in me calms down like the sea when the storm has passed. Holding her is everything. “You finally called me Anya.”
“I know. It took me a minute to realize what this is.” I move her hair from her face and kiss her little red nose.
“And what is it?” She asks, biting her lip with a hint of doubt. I hate that I am the one who put that there, but I am going to take it away now.
“Love,” I tell her before lifting her into my arms and kissing her. Suddenly, I see flashing lights, and people are asking more questions. “Oh shit. Is the press conference not over?” Giggling, she shakes her head no before kissing me once more. When she starts wiggling, I let her down.
