Page 88 of Striking
She’ll prove you don’t need to be born with royal blood to be the strongest queen consort this country’s ever had. And like in chess, she’ll always be quietly stronger than me—because she is my strength.
Moments later, I sit next to Bellamy in the back of the car, and she rests her head on my shoulder, then closes her eyes. “You are amazing, little bee.”
She sighs a sweet, soft sigh. “Maybe next time, I just give birth at the palace.”
“Next time?” I whisper, but she’s already asleep.
Bellamy is sleeping peacefully in our bed, and Estella is asleep on my chest when Atticus walks in after dinner that evening, smiling, with a laptop in his hand. “Care for a visitor?” he asks and sits next to me with a smiling Lennon on the screen.
“Let me see my niece,” she demands with tears in her eyes, and Atticus adjusts the laptop until Lennon gasps. “Stop right there. My God, Rhys. She looks exactly like Bellamy but with Mummy’s eyes.”
I breathe in deeply as something beautiful settles in my chest.
Something so right, it nearly hurts.
“When are you going to bring Brennan and Ophelia to meet their new cousin?” I ask quietly, not wanting to wake my sleeping daughter. “Your cottage is ready and waiting for you and Maddox and the kids.”
“Soon,” she promises. “How is Bellamy?”
“Sleeping,” I tell her, and Atticus laughs.
“She’s a rockstar. She gave birth and handled it better than Rhys did. Then she got showered, dressed, and stood on the steps in three-inch heels to show the world their future queen. She’s as badass as they come,” he gushes, and Lennon grins.
“Sounds like you’ve got a crush on your brother’s wife,” Lennon teases. “Maybe it’s time you settled down too, big brother.”
“I don’t have a crush,” he pouts. “Looking at her is like looking at you, poppet. She’s my sister. And bite your fucking tongue. Just because you and Rhys are domesticated doesn’t mean I want to be.”
Lennon glares. “Language, Atticus.”
“She’s asleep and less than a day old, Lennon,” he groans.
“She’s our future queen,” Lennon lectures him with awe and a tremble in her voice that can’t be missed. “Don’t corrupt her just yet. Maybe try waiting at least a week.”
Atticus shifts uncomfortably next to me and props the laptop on the table. “Mum would have loved this.”
“Yeah, she would have,” I agree and rub my hand over Estella’s back. “One of the last things she did was make me promise to protect you both. To keep you safe and happy. I hope I’ve done that.”
“Oh, Rhys,” Lennon gasps on a soft sob as Atticus turns quietly to me. “It’s not your job to protect us.”
“Are you happy, Lennon?”
My sister wipes her eyes and offers the tiniest nod. “Happier than I ever knew I could be.”
I turn to Atticus, and he shakes his head before I can speak. “You didn’t abdicate the throne, brother. Nothing in the world could make me happier. Now it’s your turn. Be happy, Rhys. Mum would have wanted that too.”
I look at my daughter and think about my wife sleeping in our bed and know if she’s watching, Mum knows exactly how happy I am.
Bellamy
Everyone warned me that watching your husband with your baby is an aphrodisiac, but I swore they were wrong. Who has the energy to even think about sex when you’re running on no sleep, your boobs hurt from breastfeeding day and night, and you’re trying to sneak in a little work whenever you can? Even if it’s just the occasional FaceTime from Linus, who appointed himself my virtual intern as soon as he was declared to be in complete remission.
He’s decided that he wants to run the foundation one day, and I’ve told him the minute he gets his degree, there’ll be a job waiting for him. In the meantime, he likes to ask for updates and to give me ideas for ways to help. And since baby brain is a real thing, and I’ll take any help I can get these days, I accept it willingly.
It’s nearly three a.m. when I roll over tonight to an empty bed and a crackling monitor. Some fathers may not like to wake up with their babies, but Rhys is not one of them. For the past six weeks, the minute Estella cries, he’s out of bed and rocking her back to sleep. He doesn’t want to hear that he’s going to turn her into a tiny, spoiled terror. He just wants to soothe our baby. And he looks incredibly sexy doing it.
Especially on nights like tonight, when I look into the nursery and find him on the glider, shirtless. His beautiful muscles, hard and inked, stand in a stark contrast to our girl’s porcelain skin. Her beautiful face is pressed against his heart as she sucks her fist and closes her eyes.
I get it. That’s my favorite place to sleep too. Safe and protected in Rhys’s arms.
