Chapter 27 — Miles

I don’t understand how Lisabet does it. I’m not even the one on stage, but my heart’s the one that’s threatening to burst.

Today is the first annual charity concert, organized together by Queen Isabella and Lisabet. Lisabet is the highlight of the evening, having composed over a dozen original pieces in collaboration with SM Records. Tonight’s concert is actually going to be recorded live, and any album sales will go towards after-school music programs and music scholarships to students across the kingdom of Oxland.

We’ve rented out the entirety of the capital’s opera house, a massive brick of a building that’s been standing for almost four generations. My great-great grandfather was the one who commissioned that the opera house be built, and due to its grand size, wasn’t finished until around the time Father was just taking up the throne.

There are probably five hundred people here tonight, all dressed up in their evening best. Anyone who’s anyone made it onto the guest list, many of them eager to get the chance to hear Lisabet perform for the first time since our wedding all those months ago.

Married life has honestly been a dream. There’s something incredibly satisfying about walking into a room—any room—with Lisabet on my arm and proudly introducing her as my wife. The term has such a nice ring to it.

Hey, have you met my wife?

See that woman walking on stage? Yeah, that’s my wife.

That talented woman about to play the cello? Yep. My wife.

Lisabet bows before taking a seat on center stage, the whole theatre erupting into applause. She doesn’t look the slightest bit nervous. Maybe we’re linked telepathically somehow, and I’m unfortunately on the receiving end of her nerves. She’s a perfect professional, not so much as a quiver in her hand.

I catch a glimpse of her wedding ring shining under the spotlight and hold back a smile.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Lisabet launches into her music.

It never ceases to amaze me how beautifully she plays. Her fingers move over the fingerboard with hypnotic precision and accuracy. The bow very much seems like an extension of her arm, producing full, deep notes. There’s passion in the way she plays, intent in every note. She’s truly a master at her craft, a dedicated artist who’s finally been given her chance to shine.

And I couldn’t be prouder.

Song after song, the audience can’t get enough. When the entire show comes to an end, every single person rises from their seats to give Lisabet a much-deserved standing ovation.

I memorize the smile on her face, the twinkle in her eye.

She’s radiant.

*

The after party is an absolute success.

The reception hall of the opera theater has been reorganized to host a large gathering and silent auction, the proceeds of which will be combined with album and ticket sales to be given towards the charity.

Lisabet is the talk of the town.

“Truly breathtaking,” Shania Mallory says for the umpteenth time. The record producer has Lisabet’s hand in a death grip, shaking it again and again like she’s forgotten what it means to have a normal human interaction.

“That’s really kind of you, thank you,” Lisabet says, holding her own.

“I couldn’t help but notice how romantic all of your songs were. Was there some sort of inspiration while you were composing?”

Lisabet winks at me. “I suppose you could say I have myself a muse.”

“Ah, yes. That makes perfect sense. Tell me, do you plan on coming up with a second album? After the success of the first, I’m sure there’s great demand for more.”

“We’ll have to see. The first one was a lot of work. I may have to spend some time and recharge.”

“Of course, of course. You have my business card. Give me a call if you’ve got something in mind. Or I could just send you a message at a later time. Whichever works for you.”

“Sure thing. Thank you, Miss Mallory.”

Shania’s about to open her mouth to no doubt start into another bewildering rant, but Lisabet shoots me a please-save-me look. I step in without a second thought, placing a hand on the small of my wife’s back.

“You must be hungry,” I say. “How about we grab a bite to eat, darling?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Lisabet replies, thankful.

I take her over to the refreshments table, which is luckily on the other side of the reception hall and out of Shania Mallory’s earshot.

“I had no idea music producers were so chatty,” Lisabet admits quietly to me.

“Maybe it’s just her?”

I pick up two glasses of bubbly champagne and hand one to her, clinking the rims of our glasses.

“Cheers,” I say. “To your success.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yes, you could.”

Lisabet grins. “OK, maybe I could. But I still want to thank you for your support.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I take a sip of my champagne, but take note when Lisabet doesn’t. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“There’s actually something I wanted to tell you,” she says slowly.

I frown, immediately concerned. “Is everything all right?”

“Can we go somewhere quiet to talk?”

I put my glass down. “Of course. Come this way.”

We leave the party and exit out into the hall. There are a couple of serving staff mulling about, but it’ll have to do. Lisabet and I take a seat on a nearby bench.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Lisabet takes a deep breath before smiling up at me sheepishly. “I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

“Shoot.”

“What do you think about kids?”

“Energetic. Loud. Loads of fun.”

She laughs. “I mean, what do you think if we were to have kids?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you…Are you serious?”

Lisabet nods. “I know it isn’t something we’ve really talked about. And I know we’ve only been married for half a year, but…” She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. I know there’s a lot of pressure to have an heir to the throne—”

“That doesn’t factor into anything,” I say quickly. “If we’re going to have kids, we’re going to have them because we’re ready. Not because of some silly inheritance issue.”

She nibbles her bottom lip, taking up my hands in hers. “Well…I’m ready, Miles. But I want to make sure that you’re ready, too.”

I honestly haven’t given the idea of having children much thought. It was always something that lingered in the back of my mind. More of a necessity to fulfill another royal responsibility, but less of a want. But when I close my eyes, I can picture excited Christmas mornings with mountains of gift-wrapped boxes under the tree. I can hear the scampering of tiny feet charging down the hall after Jingles as they play catch. I can hear myself giving my first lecture, wondering if I’m being too much like my father, before realizing that I’m anything but and having kids is my chance to do better.

The concept of fatherhood is daunting at first, but it surprises me just how quickly I warm up to the idea. I don’t know if I’m entirely ready, but I know without a doubt that Lisabet will be a great mother. She’s already so loving and warm and kind. She’s patient and smart and comforting. If we bring a child into this world, there isn’t a day that’ll go by where our kid doesn’t know what it is to be loved.

“You know what?” I say softly. “I’m ready, too.”

Lisabet beams. “Really?”

“Really.”

She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me tight, kissing my cheek. “You’re going to make an amazing father.”

“How about we blow this party and get a head start?”

Lisabet laughs. “I don’t know. We might actually have to wait to get home.”

“Aw, but now I’m all excited. Come on. Let’s leave this shindig.”

“But I’m the guest of honor.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I know, but that’s what you love about me.”

“Bear with it for another hour or two, OK?”

“Fine, but the second the first guests start to leave, we’re going too.”

Lisabet strokes my jaw and giggles. “I love you, Miles.”

“I love you, too.”