A Nordic King(92)

I can’t explain it to him. “I’m just…I’m someone to hide in the dark. Don’t you get it?”

“No. I don’t. You keep bringing up the fact that you’re the nanny and that’s why we can’t be together, but it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It matters. Okay, it matters. I can’t measure up to Helena.”

“No one says you have to.”

“The tabloids do.”

“The tabloids can go fuck themselves. They don’t matter.”

But they do. I shake my head. “If you tell the girls…and things don’t work out…”

His gaze sharpens, his jaw growing stiff. “Why wouldn’t it work out? Why would you even say that?”

“Because, you’re a king and…”

His fingers go back into my hair and he holds my head steady as he levels me with his eyes. “I am a king. And I belong to you in ways I never thought possible. More than I belong to my country, more than I belong to the people, I belong to you.”

I don’t deserve this man.

I.

Don’t.

Deserve.

Him.

I lick my lips, my mouth dry, my heart flooded. “Aksel,” I whisper.

“I don’t want to live a lie anymore. I want to tell the girls and then I want to tell the world. But I won’t do any of that unless you’re on board. It’s fucking killing me not to be able to touch you in public, to not be able to sing your praises, to not let everyone know that I’ve found love, love that I’ll wear better than any crown.” He gives me a sad smile. “But I won’t do it until you’re ready.”

He wears my love like a crown.

I just wish I was worthy enough to do the same.

“Just think about it,” he says, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for mine. “Come on. Let’s go for a swim.”

I give him my hand and he doesn’t let go as we run down toward the turquoise waves. If the girls think the handholding is odd at all, they don’t show it. Maybe it’s because we’ve become so close with each other around them, that they think it’s natural. Maybe because what Aksel and I have is natural, as natural as the salt in the sea and the sun in the sky.

He’s right. The girls do deserve to know the truth about us.

I can only hope my heart will be ready for it.



*

Later that evening, Aksel and I are standing on our deck overlooking the ocean. He leans against the railing, wearing just a pair of board shorts, no shirt. A warm breeze ruffles his hair, a half-empty beer dangles from his fingers. His gaze is focused on the horizon, content, and yet I can tell a million thoughts are running through his head.

I stare at him and hope it’s imprinting in the back of my head like a film negative, so I can pull it up and stare at it whenever I want. This to me is the real Aksel. Gorgeous and commanding and searching for peace.

I feel like he’s finally found his peace.

It’s in me.

“Get a good look?” he asks with a sly smile as he glances at me idly, taking a swig of his beer.

“Always,” I tell him.

“Have you thought anymore about what I said?” he asks after a long pause.

“I liked that ‘wear your love like a crown’ part. It was very poetic, as usual.”

He gives me a faint smile. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

He reaches out, his hand going around my waist and pulls me toward him. The girls are fast asleep in their room, it’s only the two of us out here. It feels like it’s the two of us against the world.

His hand disappears into my hair and he leans in, kissing me softly on the lips. I run my fingers down his back, feeling his smooth, taut skin. In moments like this, it feels like we’re unstoppable, immortal, like we’re at the center of a swirling universe, a god and a goddess, with the worlds at our feet. Nothing can touch us.

He pulls back just enough to let his lips brush against mine. I hear him swallow and when I open my eyes, he’s staring right into my soul, my heart. “I want a baby,” he murmurs so rough and so soft that I barely hear him.

I frown, my stomach doing back flips upon back flips. “What?”

A baby?

A baby!?

“I want a baby with you,” he says against my lips. “I want us to make one. To make a new life that’s mine and yours.”

Holy fuck.

That was not what I expected him to say.

In fact, I’d never heard him mention children all that much, I assumed that Clara and Freja were all he’d wanted.

But now he wants a baby with me.

Me.

“I want to be a father again,” he goes on. He straightens up, running his hand down my neck. “I want you to be the mother of my child. My children. Hell, I want lots of babies. A whole palace full of brothers and sisters for Clara and Freja.”

Lots of babies?! A whole palace full!?

I don’t know what to say, what to think.

The truth is, my ovaries are exploding into a million pieces right now and I would be lying if what he said wasn’t the most romantic, amazing, joyous thing I’d ever heard (and this is coming from him, who’s got a terribly romantic heart).

And I would definitely be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it already.