32. Willa #2
Our relationship is unconventional and unique, but dear God, I love Nick so much. I've never felt this happy and content before.
Nick pops into the bathroom to kiss me goodbye and catches me fingering the bruises.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he questions quietly, worry skirting across his features.
I shake my head.
"Good. I never want to hurt you, my darling." Kissing me once more on the lips, he departs. He has a long day of meetings ahead of him, but we've made plans to meet up for lunch.
After I finish dressing, I walk into the bedroom and spy a gift bag lying on my bedside table. Curious, I open it to find an assortment of Dutch dog treats and a note from Nick.
My Darling,
I brought you (and Bruno) back souvenirs from The Netherlands. Bruno loves you too much to listen to anyone else, so you may as well continue with your bribery.
I love you.
xoxo ,
Your Nicholas
P.S. Don't tell Johann.
Smiling broadly, I tear into a bag and place a few in the pockets of my dress, like old times.
Since Bruno and I have been reunited, and I learned of his military training, I've tried my best to make him behave, but Bruno will have none of it.
As soon as he senses my presence, he acts like a wild buffoon, whining and barking and running in circles until I greet him.
With his dark fur and imposing size, he may look like a scary beast, but he's really just a giant love bug.
Traipsing downstairs, I stow the rest of the dog treats in a kitchen cupboard and grab my purse off the hook by the front door. As I skip outside a moment later, I have no idea that my bubble of happiness is about to burst.
But it does when Queen Beatrice calls out to me on my way to the car to meet Luther, the Royal Guard who's been assigned as my shadow since becoming Nick’s girlfriend.
Luther is accompanying me to the market.
He likes it when we go grocery shopping because I always send him home with some of whatever it is that I’m cooking.
When I first see Queen Beatrice, I suspect she's here to give me flak for insisting on going to the gourmet grocery store myself.
When the paparazzi captured photos of me last week at the store, the tabloids ran a headline, Willa: She's Just Like Us .
After that incident, the queen issued me a strongly worded lecture, expressing how much she hated the reminder that I am a commoner—and she hated it even more that I continue to act like one.
As Nick said, she can sod off. If I want to go to the supermarket, I can. I'm not a prisoner being held captive in the palace.
Throwing my hand up in the air, I wave hello but keep walking, praying she'll go away. When the queen calls my name a second time, I smother a groan before squaring my shoulders. I refuse to let the queen see me squirm.
To my surprise, she greets me cordially before taking my elbow and gently steering me down the path that leads to the gardens.
As we stroll, the queen shoots me a brief smile.
"I see myself in you, Wilhemina; that's why I've been so harsh toward you, I'm afraid.
I, too, was once young and starry-eyed and in love with a handsome prince. "
My head whips around to face her. OMG, is the Queen of Mean about to apologize to me? Has hell frozen over?
"I'm sorry for how I've treated you. To be honest, I've felt torn.
I love my son, but…" She pauses to gather her thoughts. “But I worry you might suffer the same fate that befell me when I was a young woman. I married the Crown Prince, and life wasn’t easy as a princess. I was isolated, hidden away in a palace, far from friends and family. The press hated me for years. There was no privacy.” Shaking her head, she summarizes lamely, “It was simply a lot to handle at such a young age.”
Upon hearing her apology, my defenses lower.
In my previous interactions with the queen, she's portrayed this aloof, holier-than-thou persona.
Cold and untouchable. Rigid and controlling.
However, today, she's different. She’s dressed casually in tan slacks and a lightweight sweater.
Her hair is down, and her face is free of make-up.
Her shoulders are sloped, and her stride is slow.
Queen Beatrice seems weary. Resigned, almost. I'm not sure what to make of this abrupt shift.
"Before I met Christian, I was driven and bold, studying to become an architect. I had high hopes and grand ambitions of my own."
"I had no idea," I murmur.
"Why would you? When you marry into the family, the Crown works tirelessly to erase as much of your previous life as possible.
It's easier to control the narrative when your personal history has been erased.
" With a grave expression, Queen Beatrice pivots, grasping my hand.
"Once you're officially a member of the royal family, there is no escape from this life. "
"I-I know," I stammer.
Turning to face the gardens again, she nods once, seemingly unconvinced. I walk beside her, flummoxed. The gravel crunching under our shoes is the only sound that fills the air for the next few minutes.
Finally, the queen inquires, "Did you see that article in yesterday's paper?"
"I did."
The truth is that I wouldn't have seen it if Nick hadn't emailed it to me. It's been difficult keeping up with everything the media is printing about me, us, and our relationship, but Nick sends me articles he deems important enough to warrant my attention.
Similar to what it seems like his mother might be doing now, Nick wants me to recognize what it means to be with him—what I'll be giving up, what it will cost me. What he doesn't seem to grasp is that I value what I'll be gaining— his love —more than anything I might lose.
"That journalist was correct, Wilhemina. When you marry into a royal family, you’re forced to give up everything. Your privacy, your aspirations, your career, your friends, even your family. Nothing else will ever be more important than the Crown.”
Since this conversation is more of a monologue than a dialogue, I remain quiet, but the worries grow louder in my mind.
“Based on my own experience, this is how it will go, Wilhemina. Nicholai will devote all his time and attention to you. Lavish you with pretty words and romantic gestures. Lull you into a false sense of security. Make you believe that he’ll provide you with the fairy tale ending.
You’ll feel like the luckiest girl in the world to be the recipient of his love.
” She exhales audibly. “Then you’ll begin to experience small pullbacks.
He’s a little late. He misses dinner. He cancels plans.
You’ll accept his excuses, assuming he’s busy with his work.
You’ll grow accustomed to this new normal of barely seeing him, of him prioritizing the needs of the Crown over your needs and the needs of your marriage.
But then…” Queen Beatrice trails off, clearing her throat softly.
“Then you’ll stumble upon clear, irrefutable evidence that he's actually prioritizing someone else over you. I was seven months pregnant with Alexander when I found Christian in the midst of a romantic interlude with one of my supposed friends.”
Shocked, my eyes widen at her vulnerable disclosure and my steps falter.
She scoffs quietly. "It was far from Christian's only affair." She lifts her chin and clasps her hands behind her back. “I’ve told you before that I see much of Christian’s personality in Nicholai. That’s why I’m having this conversation with you again.
To warn you off, if I can, and to mentally prepare you for what’s to come, if I can’t.
"You must understand, no matter how hard I worked to raise my children and keep them from being spoiled, their privileged bloodlines made that impossible. They’ve lived their entire lives with an infallibility that is difficult to comprehend.
It's interwoven into their noble heritage.
Nicholai always gets what he wants without suffering any lasting ramifications.
" The queen's eyes dart to mine. "He may say he loves you, and I'm sure he does, but his love won't last. His attention is temporary.
Once his ring is on your finger, it will become a shackle, tethering you to this life forever. "
She squeezes my hand and grants me a small, rueful smile. “Thirty years from now, I don't want you standing in my footsteps, issuing a similar warning to another innocent young woman.”
Stumbling over my words, I mumble, "I-I don't know what to say, Queen Beatrice. I'm sorry…"
She waves my words away with a decisive sweep of her hand. "Don't apologize for someone else's misdeeds. Besides, apologies are for the weak."
With that proclamation, I feel better. The queen has resumed her usual way of speaking to me, and as brusque as it is, it's a welcome relief to return to our normal patterns…until she flips the script again.
"However, should you wish to leave Nicholai, I'll help you escape. No questions asked. Otherwise, I'll never mention this conversation topic again."
The queen departs, leaving me alone in the garden, surrounded by lush greenery and fragrant flowers, while a litany of worries grows like ivy, their tendrils of doubt rapidly encircling my heart.