Royally Benevolent (Resplendent Royals #4)

13. Next Steps

13

NEXT STEPS

ODETTE

I didn’t want to read into what shouldn’t be a thing. My heart fluttered. Watching Wyatt playing with Theo made him even sweeter. Theo alone had my heart. He was precious. I loved kids—especially ones at that age. They could express themselves but still had adorable baby voices. If Wyatt wanted to meet, I had no choice but to oblige him, right?

“How do I… reach you?” Wyatt asked.

“Just call me.”

“You have a cell phone?”

I giggled. “Yes, Wyatt.”

I did not mention that we weren’t allowed to use cell phones in the past. Our abusive grandmother, Celeste the Jailer, forbade any communication with the outside world. I hated telling those stories.

I freed my phone from my jacket pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over assertively. I was more than willing to insist a man text me. I’d have him put his number in my phone, too. This was my chance to take back the narrative.

“Cool,” Wyatt tapped away to add his number, smiling as he returned the phone.

I found “Wyatt” and texted him a hello.

He looked down at his phone and chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Text me what works,” I said. “I understand kids and their bedtimes take precedence. We all work around Alex and Rick’s schedule. And their schedule works around the kids.”

“Really?”

“Believe it or not, they’re standard issue parents with extra help. But Alexandra and Rick put a lot of emphasis on the kids having them around more than they don’t. So, it matters to them—and the rest of us even if we don’t have little ones of our own yet.”

Wyatt grinned. “I can appreciate that. Without his mom, it’s been a challenge. I cannot keep a nanny. They are all so… severe… here.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Losing your wife and the mother of your child had to be dreadful. It happened to my father. I flashed back to one of the few memories with him. He sat in a rocking chair with a blanket on the veranda of a castle in the woods. I sat in Alexandra’s lap, afraid to approach. He was gone already—nothing remained of the man he’d been by that moment. The vacant look in his eyes frightened me.

“You alright?” Wyatt asked, concerned.

My face telegraphed my emotions and discomfort.

“Sorry, my father… he lost my mother when she was giving birth to my little sister,” I said. “We all lost her. It just reminded me of that. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry. Did you know your mother?”

“I was two when she died,” I answered. “So, no. Did… did Theo?" Sorry, if that is?—”

“It’s fine,” Wyatt shifted on the bench. “This is our life.”

“I didn’t mean to make it?—”

“You didn’t,” Wyatt assured. “My grief therapist always reminded me that it is better to address it and say the things I miss than to deny her—and deny Theo—the memories.”

That hit me in the feels. “I get it. My sister—Alex—is always so caught up that it is always hard for her to talk about Mamma. She raised us. But she never got that maternal figure she needed—that we got in her—and it took until motherhood for her to unpack it. We benefitted. As she mothers the kids, she’s the mother she needs. So, she talks about Mamma more and more. ”

Wyatt sniffled. “You have a way with words, Odette.”

“Therapy,” I snickered, breaking up the mood. “Therapy has taught me a lot .”

“Same. I lost my father at a young age, too. I could have unpacked that about 20 years before I did. Mom worked so hard for my sister and me. Uh, as far as Theo goes, his mother passed when he was a year old. She went out for a run and never came home.”

Unable to cover up my emotions, I looked back in horror.

“She was mowed down by a driver blowing through the pedestrian signal not far from our house in the States,” Wyatt said. “So, if I appeared shaken up, that was why. If I’m being overbearing, please tell me. I care… too much.”

I squeezed his hand. I knew I shouldn’t touch him, but the impulse was strong. That couldn’t have been easy for him. He didn’t pull back. He returned the squeeze.

“Nonsense. In my book, you cannot care too much, Wyatt. I want to help. Just text me when you get a moment. Let’s figure out a plan. I want to make the world safer for everyone. It cannot bring Theo’s mom back, but I can try to be on the right side of history. What was Theo’s mom’s name? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Isla,” Wyatt answered. “And your father was?”

“Christophe. Mamma was named Linnea. And it’s why my oldest niece is, too,” I said, realising I still held Wyatt’s hand. “Sorry. I should go.”

Theo raced up. “Where are you going?”

“I have to go, darling,” I said. “But maybe I will see you again soon?”

Theo looked at his father. “Please, Papa!”

“Another day, buddy.”

“Goodbye, pink girl!” Theo declared.

I fought a hearty laugh. “Until we meet again, Theo.”