Page 5 of Wicked Queen

“Clara,” I reminded him. Any man who had been face to face with my nether regions should probably be on a first name basis with me.

He nodded as though he might consider using my real name, but I knew better. We’d been through this dozens of times when I’d been pregnant with Elizabeth. It wouldn’t stop me from trying, however. I would never get used to being present but apart. It was no wonder Alexander was screwed up.

“I’ve spoken with the specialist you saw. I know he wanted to look into your scans and your charts further,” he continued, his finger skimming over a chart.

“He didn’t tell me much.” I smoothed down my dress nervously. I’d thought I would know much sooner than now, but even though I was panicked over the results, I hadn’t sought them out. Even now, I wasn’t certain I wanted to know what he had to tell me.

“He took a cautious approach given…” he trailed away, and I filled in the blank: given who I was or, more importantly, given whose child this was. He flipped open a file and drew out a black and white image.

The doctor wasn’t volunteering much and his obvious hesitance wasn’t very reassuring. He moved closer and held out the image, pointing at a spot that had been circled digitally. “This is your baby’s tricuspid valve. It connects your baby’s right ventricle with the right atrium. While it’s a bit early to be conclusive, it appears to be a bit too narrow.”

My own heart plummeted into my stomach as I tried to process what he was telling me. “What happens if it is too narrow?”

“It would be difficult for blood to leave the baby’s heart and get to its lungs. In most cases, we can keep the ductus arteriosus open with medication. Normally that valve closes when babies begin to breathe on their own.”

I couldn’t think. I had too many questions rattling around in my head. I looked to Belle for help, only realizing I’d begun to cry when the movement made hot tears hit my cheeks.

“So we keep it open with medicine,” she jumped in, nodding to me. Thank God for best friends. “Then what?”

“It will depend on a number of factors. Likely the baby will need a surgery not long after birth. We will continue to monitor this very closely, Your—” I shot him a look and he fumbled for a second before shifting gears “—Clara.”

Belle glanced at me, clearly torn about her next question. Our eyes met and I knew she was wondering exactly the same thing I was, but she couldn’t say it. She shouldn’t have to, I realized. Swallowing against the ache in my throat, I forced myself to ask it instead. “What are the baby’s chances?”

“Very good,” he answered quickly. “We’re quite fortunate to have caught it. Early intervention means a very high survival rate.”

Survival rate. Early intervention. Words I’d never expected to hear about my unborn child. I was cracking slowly, breaking under the weight of my life. I needed to be strong for the baby, but that was the only thing holding me together. One wrong word might be all it took to shatter me.

“There are a few other things you should know,” he began and I braced myself, wondering how much more my own heart could take.

A half hour later I was on information overload. Norris was waiting with the car as Belle and I exited the private entrance to the clinic. I would never know how he always managed to keep the paparazzi at bay, but today I was especially grateful for it. He eyed me without comment as I gave him a tight-lipped smile and climbed into the backseat. Belle cast furtive glances at me but kept quiet, massaging her own baby absently as we drove.

“Home?” Norris asked, and I realized I’d fallen into a daze.

“Don’t I have a schedule?” I said coldly, immediately regretting my bitchy tone. It wasn’t his fault that this was happening. It wasn’t his fault that the baby was sick. It wasn’t his fault that he was here and Alexander wasn’t. No, that was all my fault.

“I believe you’re free this afternoon, if…” he said without a hint of sarcasm or annoyance. Of course, he usually had to put up with Alexander and his whiplash-worthy mood swings. The man was a saint—the father Alexander had never had and the man most likely to talk sense into my often irrational husband.

“Why don’t we go somewhere?” Belle offered.

“Where?” I asked her. I wanted to, more than anything, but I couldn’t just go out to lunch or to shop. I wouldn’t know where to go, even if I could.

Belle searched for an answer, clearly understanding my unspoken need for privacy. “My house? I’ll send Smith out for some curry and we can chat. Norris can sweep the entire building if he needs to.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, his eyes following our conversation in the rearview mirror.

“Look, I’m on the approved list!” Belle clapped her hands like she’d won a prize, earning a laugh from both of us. I didn’t tell her that I suspected she was more than on the approved list. It wouldn’t surprise me if Alexander had security checking in on her regularly. He was overbearing like that.

Smith met us in the foyer, giving me a quick hello before wrapping his arms around Belle. He was one of the few men in the world completely nonplussed by my presence and I loved him for it. No fawning over me. No awkwardness. Then again, he didn’t seem to notice much when my best friend was around. He gave her a swift kiss, and the look on his face sent my thoughts to Alexander.

Alexander looked at me that way. He didn’t notice anyone else when I walked into a room. That wasn’t what I missed, though. I missed his kiss. I missed his arms. I missed a thousand little things that I hadn’t even known I missed. I missed him.

"Can you go grab us some curry for lunch?” Belle asked Smith in a low voice.

I blinked at the sound of her voice, realizing only then that I had started to cry again. Smith cast a worried look in my direction but nodded. Thank God for men who could take a hint. He grabbed a jacket off the hook by the door and slid it over his broad shoulders. Giving Belle one more quick kiss, he left.

"Let's talk." Belle took me by the shoulders, obviously not trusting my dazed state, and led me into the parlor.

"I don't want to talk about Alexander." I barely processed that we’d changed locations. I was too busy holding back tears. Taking a seat on her cream-colored sofa, I grabbed a pillow to clutch to my chest. It felt good to hold something. Later I would go home and cuddle Elizabeth.