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“That’s all I’ve done my entire life. Expect perfection and never take a minute to sit back and relax or acknowledge what I’ve achieved. If I did, they’d be onto me, reminding me of how I might be at the top right now, but one slip and someone would take advantage of my weakness. Decades of that weight of expectation is enough to break someone,” she sobs.

“If you weren’t pregnant with my babies and I wasn’t about to be a dad, I would be hauling ass over there right now to bury them in those fake-ass manicured gardens. No one would miss them.”

She shakes her head against me. “They aren’t worth it, and a lot of people would miss them. What the public sees and thinks about my parents is far removed from who they truly are.”

“Yeah, I worked that one out already.”

A long stretch of silence passes between us as I embrace my broken girl and run over the options in my head, debating whether to grab my keys and do exactly what I want.

But those babies and Kate hold me back.

“Come here.”

Sitting up, I pull her to straddle me on the couch, wrap her blue blanket around her shoulders, and focus her attention on me.

“Is six months really what you want?”

“I don’t know. I’m scared that taking longer will be too much, that I’ll lose touch and be left behind.”

Smiling warmly at her, I place a soft kiss on her hair. “It’s not about being ‘left behind,’ Princess. It’s about embracing life and how it changes for us. Everything happens for a reason.”

“You really believe that?”

I nod slowly. “Everything about you, our babies, and the fact that in a couple of weeks, we’re going to fly to Banff and get married is all part of the plan. Our plan. What was meant to happen for us. I’ve been falling for you for so long now, even before that night at Jon’s and Felicity’s wedding. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up, and now that you have, I just want you to trust the process. Trust what your heart is telling you and work to eliminate all that bullshit your parents fed you when you were younger. They’re toxic. They’re fucked up. Not you.”

She swallows thickly as she digests my words. “I’m officially rescinding my previous comment. You aren’t a prick; you never were. You are, in fact, my prince.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

KATE

Banff is a place I’ve always wanted to visit, especially at Christmas. But did I actually think I’d be getting married here?

Hell to the no.

Did I think I’d leave my future sister-in-law to make all the arrangements alongside my fiancé’s ex-captain?Also no.

But here we are, on the morning of my wedding, as I look out over the snowy mountainous landscape of one of the prettiest places I’ve ever seen.

Jensen said he wanted to marry me in Alberta, so when Hollie suggested a chic hotel set in the heart of the town, I knew it was perfect. How they managed to get availability at such late notice remains a mystery, but I guess anything is possible when your man is the resident hockey star.

Hollie asked me if I wanted a beautician this morning, but I declined. I’ve been doing my hair and makeup for as long as I can remember. Sometimes, when I was alone and stuck in my bedroom as a teenager, I'd kill time by teaching myself the latesttrends, pretending that I was going out with my friends and not being held prisoner in my own home by my own parents.

But this morning wouldn’t be complete without my girls next to me.

The door to my bedroom creaks open, and a huge smile breaks across my face as Luna and Felicity enter, dressed in gorgeous sage green, the same color as the twin’s nursery. Their long, flowing, silky dresses hug every curve and line of their womanly figures, taking my breath away.

“Holy hell.” Luna’s hands fly up to cover her face.

“You’ve seen the dress before,” I say.

“We have, but not like this. The finished article.” Felicity waves a hand up and down my body. “I’m really glad Jensen managed to convince you he was the one because, wow, you make the most beautiful bride.”

“I can’t see my feet, as predicted,” I say.

My dress is an ivory corset lace bodice which then flows straight out from just below my breasts, leaving plenty of room for my huge bump.

“I don’t think I have another nine weeks in me, you know. How the doctors think I’ll make it to thirty-six weeks is beyond me.”