Chapter 49

~ BAILEY ~

“His baby mama?” I inquire, my brow raised.

Her eyes pop again. “Absolutely not what I was going to call you! No one’s used that term. You’re his special guest. Though…” She turns more conspiratorial now. Even glances about to see if anyone’s within earshot. Satisfied no one will overhear us, she says, “Between you, me, and the lamppost—”

“You know that phrase?” I’m surprised, truthfully. Despite her being quite capable of keeping up in our conversations without hitting language barriers too often.

She squares her shoulders this time and tells me, “I’m well-versed in colloquialisms favored in numerous countries. However, I’m mostly fascinated with American adages. You have a very rich and diverse culture. I’m particularly intrigued with your musical stylings—such as hip-hop.”

“You listen to hip-hop?”

“Oh, yes! I have an extensive playlist. Anyway, I see why His Highness takes a great interest in your country.”

A golden nugget is embedded in there, somewhere. I sense it. I just can’t grasp it. Not yet.

So I tuck it away and bring the discussion back to the proverbial lamppost. “So you were about to tell me how Nick refers to me…?”

“Don’t you dare get me in trouble, Bailey Storm,” she playfully chastises.

“You know I won’t. So go ahead. Spill.”

I sip my water as she smirks at me for having inadvertently trapped her.

Then she gets a dreamy expression on her face and murmurs, “He prefers ‘girlfriend,’ when we’re in his office or somewhere no one can eavesdrop on us. I use the term la copine. It’s French.”

“His mother was French,” I muse.

“Yes. And since his father is Italian, we interchangeably say la fidanzata.”

I’m liking this more and more.

“And in his native tongue?” I eagerly query.

“La basitonia. The beautiful girl.”

Okay, I plain melt.

I sip some more to try to cover the sudden quivering of my lips. I avert my misty eyes.

Nick has had all of these secretive monikers for me. And he has an assistant who’s been privy to his feelings from the get-go, and who covertly and loyally plays along, so that he has someone to confide in.

While the terms of endearment are certainly heartwarming—and I will be demonstrating to Nick later this evening how much I cherish them—I am also wholly grateful to Claire.

I tell her, “That you are his confidante means a lot to me. I’m sure it means a lot to Nick too. We’re not exactly a traditional…couple.”

I’m not decisive on how much I should acclimate myself to that particular label.

On the other hand… We’ve made proclamations of love, so I guess it’s not a stretch.

She pauses as our salads are delivered, a field of greens topped with sliced chicken breasts with a pomegranate-molasses drizzle and cran-raisins. Flavorful without being too eclectic. Like Claire knows I’m in need of stabilization from all the decadence. And she’s spot-on.

“This is perfect,” I assure her, though she hasn’t even asked if it suits my palate.

“Wait’ll you try my Mexican street tacos.”

“Get out of here!”

She laughs. “Seriously. I made lunch for us today. And have the Carne Asada marinating for tomorrow.”

I gaze at her over a forkful of chicken that’s hovering in the air. “Whaaat?”

She nods. “Food is the one thing that feels like home, right?”

“Can’t argue there…”

“And since you’re currently off seafood—also given you’re being inundated with all this foreign exposure—I suspected some comfort meals might be in order.”

I’m completely flabbergasted.

All I can say is, “How many people are you best friends/sisters/soundboards to?”

She gives a nonchalant shrug. And jests, “You don’t become Director of Social Events by being anti-social.”

“I thought you were an assistant and—”

“Recently promoted,” she explains. “I requested of the king, when you phoned me for transportation here, that you be my first assignment.”

“I’m… Wow. Honored. And congratulations.”

Now it’s Claire who’s a bit teary-eyed. “Bailey, I’ve had such a grand time getting to know you and helping with your restaurant in any way I can, remotely. And just being available for you. For whatever you need. When you said you were coming here, I thought it was the ultimate chance to hone my hospitality skills. Except…”

She lets out a puff of air and rolls her eyes, comically.

“Except, what?” I prompt.

“Well, the king did warn me not to suffocate you.”

I grin. “He did?”

“You’re not a social butterfly, he told me.”

“Ah… But in order to run a now-thriving dining room, I have to become one. And so perhaps…” A lightbulb goes off in my head. “I can learn a thing or ten from a Director of Social Events.”

“Bailey!” She’s all enthused again, her tone even jumping an octave. “Not only would I be so thrilled to keep working with you, but the king would be most pleased that you agreed.”

“Agreed?” I give her a come on look. “I’m the one requesting it.”

“Well, this is just… So fantastic.” She beams. I do too.

Perhaps there’s purpose to be found here, after all.

I’m inclined to take that sentiment a step further.

After lunch, I release Claire from babysitting duties, knowing she likely has more pressing matters to attend to. I merely need her to point me in the right direction so I can return to the residences. My first stop (and I make it there with only a few wrong turns and Bodyguard assistance to get me back on track) is Nick’s apartment.

I freshen up and fluff my hair. Then I seek out Grayson.

“Will you accompany me somewhere?” I ask.

“Of course. Afraid you’ll get lost?” he gently quips.

“Naturally. But also… I might need moral support.”

This intrigues him.

Since we’re going to be leaving the apartment, he dons his gray tails and matching gloves.

I’d love to tell him that’s not necessary, but where we’re off to… Yes, it is.

“I’d like to see Nick’s father.”

Grayson gives a nod—without even questioning my intentions. And says, “I’ll make the arrangements. Give me a moment.”

I set aside my phone while I wait for him. That’s a bit unnerving, because now I have idle hands that are desperate to be wrung as anxiety creeps around the fringes of my psyche. For numerous reasons.

Certainly, I’m terrified to be alone with the former king. Mostly because I run the risk of saying something completely inappropriate or awkward. Or, God forbid, upsetting. We are not on the same page with each other. That will complicate our conversation.

I also don’t want to rattle Nick by screwing up a bold move such as this.

Although, I believe he’ll comprehend why I’m taking the initiative. His father should get to know me, and vice versa, while we have the opportunity. Additionally, I want him to ask questions about the baby. Clearly, he knows I’m predicting a girl and I want him to understand why I feel this way—and I want to tell him, if Nick hasn’t mentioned it already, that I do feel strongly she should be raised here.

The difficulty with this degree of honesty, however, is that it can get twisted around and the tables could be turned on me. I could even be backed into a corner to commit to something without further discussing it with Nick, or more deeply evaluating my options.

Perhaps this is why I’m bringing Grayson with me.

Conversely… I do not think Antonio Angelini would purposely force my hand so that I inadvertently bent to his will.

He’s Nick’s father. And Nick has been reared well, by commanding and compassionate parents. Those traits are instilled within him. He’s also fair and just. I’m convinced that Antonio will demonstrate those characteristics as well.

Regardless, the entire excursion is a gamble. A complete crapshoot.

I’m willing to roll the dice anyway.

I think I’m mostly encouraged by the fact that Antonio seems to want to like me, to find value in me beyond being a baby vessel. He also wants to sway me… That’s no great mystery.

Thus, I will endeavor to keep my wits about me. And beg Grayson not to desert me.

I snicker over this. Of course, he won’t desert me. Even as I fret, he returns, with a smile on his face.

“His Majesty is delighted you seek an audience with him, Miss Bailey.” (Yes, we’re back to that while within palace walls.)

“Excellent,” I say, with some enthusiasm. “Thank you for going with me.”

“I’m quite fond of Nick’s father. And I truly do want him to know you.”

This chokes me up a bit, and a tear springs to my eye. “I want that too. But for you to be concerned about it—” I don’t quite have the words.

He gestures toward the double doors and tells me, “It’s not a concern, so much as a wish. Under different circumstances, there’d be no hesitation on His Highness’ part to welcome you in with opened arms.”

“But given Nick is offering me the chance to keep this baby…”

“I believe that should be a matter between you and the new king. A delicate situation such as this makes it difficult for others to not express their opinion or push their own agenda. However…” We pass through the doors as they’re opened for us and stroll into the hallway. He continues. “You actually are dealing with people who take into consideration what’s right for all parties involved. They do this out of personal pride. Also, as a professional obligation.”

“This is where the greatest challenges come into play,” I admit as we begin traversing the lengthy corridors. “Sometimes, things are so simple, so black-and-white, that it’s easy to ascertain what truly is the best for everyone. Unfortunately… This is not one of those cases.”

Grayson is quiet for a few minutes. Contemplative.

I neither urge him to respond nor stress about whatever it is he’s mulling over.

I know the man has mine and Nick’s—also the baby’s and Antonio’s—best interests at heart. I know he’ll be extremely thoughtful in what he says next.

Sure enough, he glances down at me and contends, “You can’t only look at the snapshot of today, Bailey.”

Ah, there’s my steadfast confidant.

He decisively asserts, “You must see past tomorrow, even. Give thought to how the last several months have continuously changed for you. They could alter again in two months. And then in another two months. A year down the road could be significantly different than what you envision for it today.”

These are mysterious and yet fascinating pearls of wisdom.

I do not discount that they have some greater meaning to them. At the same time, I hear the underlying message. It’s to maintain a steady groove. Keep an open mind. Explore all variables. Leave no stone unturned.

I can handle that.

And just as Grayson is prone to do, he soothes my nerves.

I link my arm with his. I know it’s not part of “protocol,” but I don’t care. Quintessential moments can’t be disregarded any more than potential revelations.

I gaze up at him through my glistening eyes and smile. “I’m so glad I met you.”

A flicker of emotion in his own eyes and his slight gaping tell me I’ve taken him by surprise.

But then he grins. Pats my hand. And says, “Likewise.”

I am calm and content as we approach Antonio’s apartment, and I think this is yet another life lesson Grayson is attempting to teach me.

If I simply allow myself to get wrapped around one axle, I won’t remember there’s another one coming upon me. I’ll only be fixated on one course of action. When, in all honesty, it’s crucial that I see beyond my current, immediate purview, as he indicated. And find a balance—on all four wheels. 

That’s an epic undertaking, for sure. And yet, if I only ever travel one path, never giving credence to what might happen if I veer off here and there, then I could miss some crucial junctures.

 I don’t know precisely what this all means right this very second. Except, I did hop a plane to come here because it was necessary, vital. Because I had to check out a world beyond mine.

I have to do this for me as much as I have to do this for the peanut.

An informed decision is a smart decision, without doubt. But there’s more to it than that. If I close my mind to Nick’s family and his heritage and his future as the royal ruler of his country—all because it overwhelms me—I will be in the wrong.

He’s gotten to know me. He accepts me. As is.

I’m Bridget Jones to Mark Darcy. He doesn’t find me lacking. At all.

Obviously, Nick sees plenty of potential in me, some of which, I haven’t even gotten a glimpse of myself.

And maybe that’s the real reason I’m visiting his father.

I have specific ideations of what I want in life, yes. But there is that age-old saying (and Claire would likely back me up here, given her penchant for adages) of not being able to see the forest for the trees.

A wise man like Antonio Angelini just might help me navigate the dense copse.

Will he have an ulterior motive? That goes without saying.

Contradictorily… Nick gleaned his sense of shrewdness from his father. So I’m quite assured that if I put out an effort, it’s going to be well received. And that could lead to the common ground we’re all in search of.

Relatively speaking, but still. We require a starting place. Also—as Grayson suggested—wide berth for what might come down the road.

I unravel from him as we enter the apartment and are escorted to Antonio’s private suite. He’s looking paler today and a bit weary. Thus, after the two men exchange pleasantries, with a tinge of intimate details that demonstrate they’re familiar with each other, I merely state, “I won’t take up much of your time, Antonio. Thank you for seeing me again.”

“Of course, my dear,” he graciously says.

I take the chair alongside the bed. Grayson stands off to the side, unobtrusive.

My palms are clammy. My brain instantly short wires.

But then a grand plan pops into my head.

So genius.

I point to the book we’d discussed the previous evening. There’s no bookmark sticking out, so I’m guessing he hasn’t yet begun A Tale of Two Cities.

I ask, “May I read with you?”