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AMELIA

I’m surprised when Tristan comes to the door and then walks through it. He hasn’t done this in longer than I care to admit. I’ve been doing my best not to impose my thoughts about how he should be handling the big feelings he must have on him, but this gives me some hope.

“Mind if I stay while you finish up?” he asks.

This surprises me even more, and I do my best to keep it off my face. “You can stay with me anytime. You never have to ask.” Now I wish I hadn’t told Shannon I would finish a few of the tasks to get us started in the morning.

My eyes track him as he leans back against the cushions of the couch and spreads his legs out, lying down.

I had hoped when he came back from war, those dark circles would go away under his eyes.

That was one of my biggest hopes and prayers for him.

That after being on for so long he would be able to relax and catch up on sleep.

Now I realize how na?ve that was. I should’ve anticipated he would have issues, but I didn’t, and now I don’t know how to help him.

His eyes are closed, dark eyelashes kissing his cheeks, but behind those eyelids, he isn’t restful.

There’s movement, and his legs are twitching.

Quickly, I hurry to finish up what I’ve been working on.

When I’m finished, I get up and do my best to make as much noise as possible crossing the room.

I’ve learned how bad it can be to wake Tristan up without him knowing you’re there.

When I get close, his eyes pop open, and he stares at me like he doesn’t recognize me.

“Tris, it’s me, Lia. Do you know where you are?

” This is another part I’ve learned. I have to make sure he knows who I am. Assuming can be dangerous.

He looks around, like he doesn’t recognize my office, and then it seems to hit him. “Did I fall asleep?” His voice is full of deep gravel, and the sound runs over my arms.

“You did. I know you’re tired.” I reach out to him, running my fingers through his hair. “You’re not sleeping well at night, so I know you need to be getting it where you can.”

His eyes shutter. “I’m doing the best I can, Lia. It’s not been easy.”

“I know.” I reach out, grabbing his hand with mine. “I wish there was something I could do for you.”

“What is it you want to do for me?” he asks in a tone I don’t love. It’s almost accusatory.

“Whatever I can to make this easier. You’re my husband, the father of my child.” I reach down, cupping my barely there bump. “More than anything, I want you to be okay.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay,” he admits.

And that’s a truth I’m going to have to accept. I can’t force him to blindly tell me he’s good when he isn’t. That’s not what marriage is, as much as I would like for it to be. “We’re going to figure this out. No matter how long it takes. We’ll have the life we wanted, Tris.”

He presses his lips together in a firm line. “I wish I could believe you, babe. But right now, it just doesn’t seem possible.

“I know, and I’ll keep the faith alive for both of us.

” I have to because I won’t let us become a statistic, I refuse to let us fail.

From the moment I walked into the room next door and was introduced to Tristan, I knew he was my future.

I won’t let him go because things aren’t easy.

Marriage is work, and we’ll figure it out.

As we make our way to the main living area of the castle, he holds my hand tightly. It makes me wonder if it’s for him or for me. Regardless, it feels good for his strong warmth to be wrapped around my smaller and colder hand.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his deep voice reverberating off the sides of the hallway.

At one point right after we’d first gotten married, these hallways were full of people, voices, and laughter.

That changed the moment the building was rocked by enemy fire.

If I close my eyes, I can still remember what it felt like that day.

The fear, the uncertainty, the way I’d reached for Tristan’s hand, and he’d been right there.

Although I had been scared, I hadn’t been worried.

Somehow, I’d known that Tristan would protect me, even when he should’ve protected himself first.

“I’m good,” I answer. “So far not a whole lot of nausea and no getting sick.” I give him a small smile.

He answers with one of his own. It’s been so long since I’ve seen one spread across his face and overtake his eyes, that I reach out and grasp it with my fingers, holding it close to my heart.

“Would you tell me if you have been feeling sick? I haven’t been a supportive partner lately, and I’m sorry.”

Rolling my lips together, I end by pulling the bottom one in between my teeth.

The nerves in my stomach dance as I contemplate what I want to say.

There’s a lot of pressure. What if I say the wrong thing?

What if I say the right thing? There’s no guarantee Tristan will take either of the things I’m trying to say as good or bad.

Since he came back from the battlefield, he takes things differently than he used to.

I don’t know this man nearly as well as I knew the man before he left.

“You haven’t been not supportive. It’s hard for both of us. ”

A frustrated sigh escapes his chest. “I’m trying to figure out why it’s been so hard. We won, our country is recovering, and we’re continuing the line of succession. Everything here should be good. We should be happy.”

Grabbing his hand, I pull him to the left, through a hallway, into a room.

It’s the room where we first met each other on my first night at the castle.

When we step in and close the door, it’s as if we’ve been transported right back there.

I’m taken back to the same unsure woman I was, but I don’t let the uncertainty overtake me.

Instead, I go to the couch and motion for him to sit down.

When he does, I stand in front of him and tilt my head to the side.

“You know what you need? A drink. One like you poured us the first night we were here.”

He nods, agreeing.

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to take care of him.

Walking over to the bar on unsteady heels, I take a moment to center myself.

It’s surreal to be back here, with my husband, carrying our child, after everything we’ve been through.

Taking a deep breath through my nose and then out my mouth, I prepare his drink before turning and walking back over to him.

“Here ya go.”

“Thank you.”

Immediately, he takes a drink, and I have a seat across from him. Licking my lips, I start. “You said something back there. We should be happy. I am, are you?”

“It’s not that I’m not happy,” he starts. “It’s that I can’t get over what I did out there on the battlefield in the name of my country.” His voice is so low, I almost can’t hear him.

“Why don’t you tell me about some of it? Let me help you with what you are dealing with.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just not sure I can.”