Page 13

AMELIA

The next afternoon, I’m folding another sundress and tucking it into my suitcase, trying to ignore the dull ache in my lower back. The beach house waits for us—our sanctuary away from the palace, away from prying eyes and scheduled appearances. Just Tristan and me for three glorious days.

“You’re bringing too many outfits,” Shannon comments, perched on the edge of my bed. “It’s only a weekend.”

“Says the woman who isn’t growing out of her clothes by the hour.” I hold up a flowing maxi dress, examining it skeptically. “This fit last week. Now I’m not so sure.”

Shannon laughs, but her eyes are gentle. “Your belly’s barely showing, Amelia.”

“Tell that to my waistbands.” I toss the dress into the suitcase anyway. “And don’t get me started on my bras. Who knew pregnancy would make everything hurt so much? My breasts feel like they’ve been used as punching bags.”

“The price of creating royalty,” Shannon quips, reaching for the dress I just packed and refolding it more neatly.

I collapse onto the bed next to my suitcase, dramatically throwing an arm over my eyes. “I’ve been sick every morning this week. The royal physician says it’s normal, but there’s nothing dignified about puking into priceless antique toilets.”

“At least Tristan holds your hair back.”

“True.” I smile despite myself. “He’s been annoyingly perfect about everything. Gets up with me no matter how early, makes sure there’s crackers by the bed.” I rub my still-flat stomach thoughtfully. “I think he’s more excited than I am sometimes.”

Shannon’s quiet for a moment, her hands pausing over my suitcase. I lift my head to look at her.

“Everything okay?”

She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wanted to tell you…Parker and I are getting more serious.”

I sit up immediately, my nausea forgotten. “Oh? Do tell.”

“It’s different now,” she says, a blush creeping up her neck. “We’ve been dating for months, but lately it feels like we’re moving to another level.”

“I’ve noticed you two seem happier.” I smile. “The way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching.”

“We’ve been talking about moving in together,” Shannon admits, her voice dropping slightly despite us being alone.

“Shannon!” I grab her hands, delighted. “That’s a big step.”

“It just feels right.” She shrugs, but can’t hide her happiness. “Last night he told me he’s never felt this way about anyone before.”

“About time he admitted it.” I grin. “Remember when you two tried to keep it professional at that state dinner and failed miserably?”

Shannon laughs. “We thought we were being so discreet.”

“Please. Tristan and I knew the moment you walked in.” I squeeze her hands. “I’m so happy for you both.”

“It’s strange,” she says thoughtfully. “When we first started dating, I worried it would complicate work. But it’s made everything better somehow.”

She shakes her head, but she’s still smiling. “It’s been…nice. Different than I expected. He’s not as uptight as he seems at work.”

“I imagine not.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.

“Amelia!” She laughs, snatching a pillow and swatting me with it. “It’s new. We’re taking it slow.”

“Sure you are.” I dodge another pillow swing. “But slow enough that I should book separate rooms for you at the next diplomatic function, or…?”

Her blush deepens. “Maybe not that slow.”

I fall back laughing, wincing as the motion makes my tender breasts ache again. “Ouch. Damn these hormones. Everything hurts, everything makes me cry, and everything about my husband makes me want to tear his clothes off.”

“Poor you,” Shannon says, utterly unsympathetic. “Forced to be attracted to your devastatingly handsome husband.”

“You don’t understand,” I groan, reaching for my swimsuit and stuffing it into a side pocket. “Yesterday I watched him sign documents for thirty minutes and nearly jumped him on the council table. His fingers, Shannon. Just…holding a pen. I almost embarrassed the entire monarchy.”

“Pregnancy hormones are no joke,” she agrees, helping me zip the overflowing suitcase. “Parker mentioned that Tristan had to reschedule a meeting last week because you?—”

“We don’t need to discuss that,” I cut her off quickly, heat flooding my face. “That was a private royal matter.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She gives a mock curtsy, smirking.

The bedroom door opens, and Tristan appears, already changed for our drive to the coast. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him in dark jeans and a blue button-down, sleeves rolled to just below his elbows.

“Ready, Lia?” he asks, and then notices my expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say too quickly. Shannon snorts beside me.

He glances between us, suspicious. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just girl talk,” Shannon says, standing and straightening her skirt. “I was just telling Her Majesty that the car is packed and ready. You should reach the beach house before sunset if you leave now.”

“Perfect.” He crosses to the suitcase, lifting it effortlessly. “Feels like you packed for a month, not a weekend.”

“Your child is demanding extra wardrobe options,” I inform him primly, standing and smoothing my dress over my belly.

His eyes soften the way they always do when I mention the baby. “My apologies to both of you then.” He turns to Shannon. “Parker’s finalizing the security detail. You two have everything covered here?”

“Of course.” She nods. “The official statement is that you’re reviewing coastal properties for potential development. No press, no appointments. Your phones will be diverted to us for anything that’s not an actual emergency.”

“You’re the best,” I tell her, pulling her into a quick hug. “And I want details about you and Parker when I get back.”

“Amelia,” she hisses, glancing at Tristan.

He holds up his hands. “I know nothing, and I wish to know nothing about my head of security’s personal life.”

“Liar,” I call him out. “You were betting on them too.”

Tristan gives Shannon an apologetic shrug. “For what it’s worth, I thought he had more patience.”

Shannon shakes her head, looking heavenward as if asking for strength. “You two deserve each other. Now go, before someone finds a reason to keep you here.”

Ten minutes later, we’re in Tristan’s Range Rover, the one indulgence he allows himself that isn’t strictly royal approved. The palace gates close behind us, and I feel the weight of the crown lifting with each mile marker we pass.

Tristan drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh. I watch the way his fingers flex as he navigates a curve, the tendons in his forearm shifting beneath tanned skin. My mouth goes dry.

“You’re staring,” he says, eyes still on the road.

“Can’t help it.” I trace a finger along his wrist where it emerges from his rolled sleeve. “Have I ever told you that you have the sexiest wrists I’ve ever seen?”

He laughs, glancing over at me. “That’s a new one. Should I be concerned about these pregnancy hormones?”

“Absolutely.” I shift in my seat, moving his hand slightly higher on my thigh. “I’ve been thinking about your hands all day. The way your fingers looked around your pen during that meeting this morning…” I trail off, biting my lip.

His grip tightens slightly on my leg. “If I recall correctly, we were nearly late to that meeting because of similar observations about my hands.”

“Your fault for looking so good making coffee,” I murmur, leaning over to press a kiss to his shoulder. “How much longer until we reach the beach house?”

His eyes remain fixed on the road, but I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens. “Hour and a half, at least.”

“Too long,” I sigh dramatically, settling back in my seat.

“Patience, Lia.” His thumb traces small circles on my thigh. “We have the whole weekend.”

“Says the man who isn’t experiencing the hormone equivalent of being seventeen again.” I place my hand over his, guiding it higher. “Besides, you’re the one always telling me how important it is to take advantage of our private moments.”

Tristan shoots me a look that makes my pulse race. “If I pull over now, we’ll never make it to the beach before dark.”

“Would that be so terrible?” I ask innocently.

He laughs, shaking his head. “The things I do for my queen.”

As he signals and begins looking for a suitable turnoff, I smile to myself. The crown may be heavy sometimes, but moments like these—just us, just Tristan and Amelia—these are the moments that make everything worthwhile.

Whatever challenges await us back at the palace can wait. For now, there’s just the open road, the man I love, and three days of freedom stretching before us. And at this particular moment, those are the only royal duties I care about fulfilling.