And so were hers. But she had been entirely present, and entirely willing the night they had sex.
She had disregarded any thoughts of contraception.
It was her fault too.
That was the reality of it. He hadn’t done it alone. And if he hadn’t behaved as he had in the aftermath, then this wedding would be a joyful thing.
“I’ll help you with your dress.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I really do appreciate it. He wants something discreet. Something that will disguise the pregnancy.”
“On your petite frame it won’t be that difficult. But, I question to what end.”
“Because then we’ll just have a baby and people will obviously talk, and speculate, but it is better than creating a shock wave because a pregnant bride is walking down the aisle of a royal wedding. In the grand tradition of heirs, you have to at least pretend.”
“You’re being alarmingly calm.”
Birdie laughed. “I’m not calm. Not at all.” She thought back to her father marrying Lady Tremaine. To his death. To her subsequent banishment to being little more than a servant in her own household. And then her taking a job at the palace.
“My life hasn’t been what I wanted it to be for a very long time. At least in this role, I’ll have some power. Some power to do good for the country. And more than that, my child will be taken care of.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.”
She was doing what she could. She was trying to have courage. She was doing the very best she could.
She lost herself in the details of all of it. Through the little mundane things of every day. That she got to rest a bit, instead of working from early in the morning to late at night. That her stepmother wasn’t there to criticize her, to order her around. That her stepsisters weren’t there to needle her.
She focused on her dress fitting, the details of the gown, the little things. The way the fabric felt sliding over her skin, how luxurious it was. The way that it felt to slide into her bed at night, with the most glorious sheets she’d ever felt in her life. Everything about the present moment was nicer than the one she had come from. Unless she thought about Onyx, so she didn’t. She separated the moment, the luxury, from anything to do with him. She thought only about the day. Every breath. Every bite of glorious food that she had.
She didn’t dwell on the unpleasant things. She didn’t dwell on the uncertainty.
Because there was no point.
And it was the only way that she could stay sane.
Her heart had been broken incrementally.
First when he hadn’t recognized her, and then, it had begun to piece itself back together when she had gone to the ball, when he had looked at her as he had. Kissed her again.
But it had been shattered irrevocably with his distrust. And there was something galling about that too. She was getting used to it. What it felt like to live without that feeling inside of her chest, which had been there from the moment she had first developed a crush on him when she’d started working for the palace.
She knew how to love him without hope.
And now she was learning to be with him without that love.
She would.
It was all just a process.
But no part of her life had ever fit her perfectly. So why should this be any different? There was an element of comfort here. With not having it all.
Yes. She could definitely get used to that.
Because she was strong, if nothing else.
Something else she had never really given herself credit for, because she had also felt soft and vulnerable. Because she’d had romantic hopes, and that made it feel like maybe she was fragile.
But no. With a broken heart, she still stood strong. And that said something about her.
