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“So if you’re not homesick, then…” I pause, taking in her little pout. “Oh my fucking god, you really are out here brooding just because you want lasagna. And you call me melodramatic.” She turns to me more fully, expression halfway to devastated. “You don’t understand!
“Well, there’s only one thing to do,” I say, pulling her to her feet. “If my Princess wants a lasagna, then I’m going to get her one.”
“What’s ridiculous is you depriving the mother of our child vital sustenance.”
Now, get your asses in here and start cooking, because I’m not about to become a pregnant woman’s personal chef.” Lex and I exchange a short, panicked look. “C-c-cooking?” I stutter, rushing to keep up with her steps. “That’s the thing where you put food in a microwave, right?”
And what are you smirking at?” she asks Lex, who’s gotten a little too superior since she praised his onion-peeling abilities. “Aren’t you supposed to be some bigshot surgeon guy? I could gnaw that with my teeth, and it’d make a cleaner cut.
Mama B is everything
She made it very clear at the beginning of the month that she preferred being in the Penis Palace. God only knows why.”
The way I am CRACKING UP TRYING TO EXPLAIN THIS TO MY MAN
“To the victor go the spoils.” Grabbing for mine, I give it a sniff before raising it, correcting, “To create is to reign.” She laughs a low, scratchy laugh. “Oh, blondie. Same fucking thing.”
“What?” “You just ate six pancakes,” Lex says, gaping. “And eggs. And a double serving of bacon.” “Seven,” Pace corrects. “Seven pancakes. She stole one of mine.” My jaw drops in outrage. “Your child stole one of yours,”
“Bro,” Pace gasps, pointing at the screen, “look at his hand. Is he…?” I groan. “Oh my god. You can’t be serious.” Justice’s hand is balled into a loose fist beneath his chin, but his middle finger is very clearly unfolded. “He’s absolutely flipping us off,” Pace says.
“Stop looking at the fetus. Look at our son.”
Wicker and I created this baby with blood and passion. Pace and I forged him in the heat of wild possession. But Lex and I made him right here, with a longing so fierce that it transcended things like science or territory lines.
but then I remember: we’re in Forsyth. And nothing in Forsyth stays peaceful for long.
“Spare me with the moral ‘good’ bullshit, Ashby. No one’s good. On the scale of humanity, there’s super-shit, kinda-shit, and lesser-shit.”
“Motherfucker, I know you aren’t out here smoking weed when you were specifically told to lay off!” Nick holds up his hands, cool as a cucumber. “Just shooting the shit, baby.” Her glower lands on me. “You. Spill.” “We were smoking a joint.” Nick’s fist bangs into me. “Dude, what the fuck?” Shrugging, I say, “Her and Verity are friends. I’m not sacrificing pussy to cover up for a Duke. You’d do the same.” Still pissed, he replies, “Of course I’d do the same. Welcome to the super-shit club, Assby.”
All of these characters are just everything
“You hit Heather with a frying pan,” I remind her. She groans. “Am I never going to live that down? Of all my actions, that one was the most justifiable! She broke the girl code, and she knows it.”
“Our son will have the one thing none of you did—a mother. And mothers aren’t just here to love and care for you. They're also here to kick asses, teach manners, and show you how to treat women. Mothers,” she concludes, “show you something a father can’t always teach.” Skeptically, I wonder, “And what’s that?” Rosi smirks. “How to be a real man.”
Your crowns are made of clay and straw and dead things.”
“Innocent men don’t run.” Which is a nice sentiment, but… “There’s a lot of innocent men who spend a lifetime in prison for crimes they didn’t commit.”
think I love her, Pace. I was too chickenshit to say it, but I felt it, and she’s out there right now, thinking she belongs to nobody. But she does.”
“If it were Verity, I’d burn this whole fucking city to the ground to find her.”
Sometimes she hardly seems real. How did she bloom her way into our lives, filling it with such soft, sweet, warm things? And how on fucking earth did we ever think of smothering it?
“I’d rather lose something I love than condemn it to a lifetime in a cage.” When Verity glances back, I give her a wink. “You taught me that.”
“I love you, Rosilocks Sinclaire.” Watching the force of my words sink in, the tears spilling over, I whisper, “So fucking much that every breath I take when you’re nearby feels like a thousand daggers to the heart.
“Not to sound vain,” Wick eyes the container, “but I’m starting to think the King has a crush on me.” “Let’s just open the box,” I roll my eyes, “and worry about crushes later.”
“it’s just a bassinet, Wicker. A beautiful one that once cradled a beautiful towheaded baby who grew into the man I love.”
“They could have been unconnected. I wouldn’t make any conclusions yet.” “This is Forsyth,” Nick says, drawing Lavinia protectively into his side. “Everything is connected.”
“We were just—” “Getting off your feet,” she answers for me, shooting Wicker an incredulous look. “She’s thirty-eight weeks pregnant.” His jaw drops, the ladle in his hand thrust in my direction. “She said she had to! She gave me the big, sad eyes and everything.” Mama snorts. “Falling for the pout. Bush league, blondie.”
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine. You don’t need to worry. I’ve got this handled.” “How?” I whimper. He pauses, mouth pulled back in a grimace. “Okay, so I don’t actually know. Lex told me my job during labor was to keep you calm, so that’s all I know how to do.” His face falls. “But I swear in another circumstance, I’d be absolutely killing it. I had all these massages and—”
“Nobody working under your supervision is touching me. Not one fucking finger, or I swear to god, they’ll lose it.”
“Lex, where are you? They’re talking about slugs and gross stuff, and this isn't my area of expertise! I’m just supposed to be the soothing, calm guy. Listen to my voice, Lex. Do I fucking sound calm?”
“I’m not giving birth in front of ten frat boys.” Pace releases the breath he’s been holding with a quiet, nervous laugh. “Well, these frat boys are about to become men, because it really seems like he’s coming, Rosi.” Belligerently, I note, “They’re not even our frat!” and Wicker gapes at me. “That’s what you’re worried about?” From across the room, Remy jerks his chin. “Excuse me—nine frat boys and an uncle.” He grins at Kaz. “I’m going to be an uncle.”
Strong, like a Monarch.
“I love you,” I tell Wicker, and his shoulders sag suddenly, forehead dipping to rest against mine. “I love you too, Red.”
the only thought that registers is that Verity is in there—right there—giving birth to our baby. Without me.
I’ve seen women giving birth before, but none of those were women I love.
She looks like a warrior. A creator.
“That’s right, Red,” he murmurs. “You’ve got this. You’re stronger than any of us are, that’s for fucking sure.” “Tell me something I don’t know,” she snaps, and her mother snorts, muttering, “Men.”
Maybe I never fully bought into Rufus’ bullshit—maybe East End was built on a foundation of suffering and degradation—but looking at my Princess, no five words have ever rang truer. “To create,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead, “is to reign.”
“Are you fucking me with this plaque?” Verity’s mother’s voice comes from the hallway. “‘The Rufus Ashby Maternity Suite’. Jesus Christ, that son of a bitch never saw a room he didn’t want to piss on.” She walks in with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Well, I wonder if rooms in the fiery pits of hell have plaques?”
She is literally everything I want to be as a grandma one day
“You came,” Verity says, looking more alert than she has all day. “And we brought food,” Story says, holding up a greasy bag. Verity inhales deeply, immediately sitting up. “Is that from Señor Mexicana?” “Yep. Special number five.” “Oh my god, I love you.” She snatches the bag from her. “I’m starving.” At Verity’s defiant look, I hold up my hands. “Go for it. Your body needs fuel.” “Got you one too, Dr. Daddy,” Lavinia says,
Love these women
Death and birth. No one understands the cycle more than a PNZ.
“Maybe it’s about time we thought about putting a baby in you.” Verity perks. “Oh my god. Yes! It’d be fun to have a baby together,” she pleads, looking hopefully at both girls. “As much as watching Remy holding that baby has obliterated my ovaries, no freaking way,”
They weren’t drawn here because of a Royal birth. It was her.
Justice isn’t just a baby. He’s our baby. A Prince who is going to need a hell of a long time to be ready to lead. Verity’s already more than a mom and a partner. More than a Princess. She’s a goddamn Queen.
it’s all just the story of our family written on your body.
“And if that’s not convincing enough, I watched you eat bacon this morning and turn it into milk to feed our son. That shit is pure wizardry.”
“I love you, Verity—every part of you—because you made me see that I could be so much more than an object to be sold and traded.” His cheek presses against mine and it’s wet from his own tears. “You made me into a man, and then you gave me the chance to be a father, something I never even thought I wanted, but somehow, you knew I was worth it.”
When I watch Pace with Justice, I see a father who wants to show him the world as much as protect him from it.
Wicker with Justice, I see a father who wants to show him his heart.
When I watch Lex with Justice, I see a father who wants to show that time is precious, and he’s eager to spend it doting on his child.
