24. Henri

"I want to tell you something, but I don't want you to be mad," I said, realizing an instant too late that I probably had him worrying.

I was holding my phone which had been buzzing on a pretty consistent basis. I knew what it meant, but I had been trying to figure out how to tell my mate. I didn't want to follow the royal birth plan and hadn't been able to figure out how to avoid it. Now that my contractions were getting closer and closer together and stronger, at least according to my app, time had run out.

Cole, of course, would want me to have the labor and delivery immediately. He didn't know how I'd been feeling on the subject, and I felt bad about that. The truth was, I didn't want to put him in a position where he had to openly defy his father. Only problem was that what I was going to ask him to do would be exactly that.

"I'm not going to be mad," he said, sitting beside me. "Do you want me to go find a way to get some weird craving?" That had been a constant theme lately, so it wasn't really that shocking his thoughts headed in that direction first.

"No, not that." It would've been so much easier if it was. "I think I'm in labor."

He popped out of his chair, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "I'll call the midwife."

I shook my head.

"That's the thing. I don't want to call the midwife. Not here. I want this baby to be ours for just a little bit. No country's newest darling, not our fathers' legacies. I just want them to be ours. And I don't know how to do that."

A contraction that had been building subsided.

"Can we make this happen?" I hated doing this to him. I really did. But if I didn't at least ask, I was going to regret it.

He thought about it for a full minute. "Yeah, I think I can make this happen. They'll probably want to swab for DNA later. Swabbing doesn't hurt, right?" He hadn't been stalling. He'd been trying to figure out all the possible outcomes. Gods, I loved him.

"Yeah, that's fine." I hated that whether the baby was legitimately ours or whatever mattered, but with royalty, I supposed I understood the point, even if I detested it.

Cole made a bunch of phone calls. "Okay, we need to get out of here. How long between contractions?"

I hadn't really been counting and had to check the app for the answer. I had enough time between them to get all the way to the car.

"Let's go."

We went straight to the garage. Cole said we would deal with any issues as we came upon them but that he didn't want to waste time being stealthy. When we reached the garage, it was Molly behind the wheel of the SUV.

"I don't want to get you in trouble, Molly." Molly mattered to me. Doing things like this for us put her at risk, and I wasn't willing to accept that. She wasn't even driving her own car. It was a royal one, which was a choice I wouldn't have expected.

"Doesn't matter if you do," she said, turning on the car. "I got my nest egg all worked out. I get fired? Well, oh well. Besides, it will look like I'm on an official royal errand driving this, so they'll leave me alone."

I wasn't sure how true that was, but as the contraction started, I didn't care. My mate helped me into the back seat, and I lay down, curled on my side.

"How about we just worry about the king later?" She started the engine. There was no stopping her.

I didn't like the plan, but I couldn't argue. The pain was starting to build as she drove us off the property.

I wasn't really sure where we went or how we got there; I was too focused on managing the pain during the trip. My mate did the best he could to talk me through the contractions, but they sucked. And not the good kind of sucking.

We ended up parked in front of a little cabin. It couldn't have been that far away, the sun was still in the sky. Each contraction felt like a week, my timing was all off.

When we got there, the fox midwife was already there. Someone had called her. I had the best mate ever or the best Molly. Both. They were both the best. If only one of them could take the pain from me.

"We're here," Molly called in, and the midwife came out with a smile on their face.

On the wall beside her was a picture of Molly when she was much younger. I quickly realized that this was Molly's home. Or one of. She did live at the palace during her work week.

"Are you sure you are okay with me having my baby here?" It was a big ask.

"Of course, that's why I have my cabin—to share it with family." She hugged me and told the midwife she'd be in the other room if needed.

There wasn't much discussion after that. The contractions started getting harder, more frequent, and longer… so much longer.

My mate helped me undress, and I paced for a while until I couldn't stand up anymore. He helped me into the bed, and Lainey gave me a quick exam, letting me know I could push as soon as I felt the urge.

It wasn't long until I did. "Just listen to my words. I'll guide you," she promised. But I didn't hear any of her words past that. Between the pain and my own cries, the only thing that registered was my mate's hand squeezing mine tightly.

I pushed and pushed and pushed. And just when I thought I couldn't push anymore, I did.

A few minutes later, our sweet daughter came into this world, kicking and screaming. It was the most glorious sound I'd ever heard. The midwife cleaned her up just enough to get her on my chest for her first meal and covered with a light blanket.

"Congratulations, dads. You have a beautiful little girl." She let us know she'd be in the other room if we needed her and stepped out to give us privacy.

"She's… Thank you, mate. She's perfect." Cole's eyes filled with tears as he looked down at our daughter.

"She looks like you. Is it weird that I wish my sister could be here to meet her?" And then, as if on cue, and before Cole could answer me with more than his knowing grin, there was a knock on the door. It was my sister.

"Surprise. A little birdy told me there's someone here to meet."

"Birdy?" I asked.

"Birdy… bear… same first letter." She sat on the edge of the bed. "What's her name?" She looked at me, and I looked at Cole.

We both answered her at the same time, "Molly Lavender."

It might not flow off the tongue like poetry, but it was the perfect name for our perfect little girl.