The Billionaire Prince’s Surprise Son by Leslie North
21
Summer felt emotionally wrung out when they finally arrived at Nic’s house. She’d called Rachel to let her know the change of plans, while Nic had called his parents and let him know that they’d created something of a scene. Apparently, they already knew: the royal head of communications was having apoplexy because #MyniaMysteryWoman was trending on Twitter. Nic looked at her.
“Odds say they know who you and Harry are within the hour,” he pointed out. “We’re going to need to put out some kind of statement.”
“Tomorrow,” she promised, feeling like a wrung-out towel.
It wasn’t lunchtime yet, but she’d barely eaten anything that morning, and Harry had been too distracted to have a real breakfast. Nic solved the problem by ordering pizza, even though it was still technically morning. They wound up nibbling on pizza and various delicious snacks the chef had left. Harry had played, but mostly they’d spent the day lazing on Nic’s super-comfortable couches, watching either “that British pig cartoon” or “the yellow thing with the pants.” She got the feeling Nic would get caught up on children’s programming quickly, even as she laughed at his descriptions of Harry’s favorite cartoons. Nic seemed tired, but happy, which was a big change from his usual demeanor of stressed exhaustion. The three of them lazed around until evening, then as Harry started to fall asleep—he skipped his nap—they decamped to Nic’s room, all falling asleep on the big bed.
Several hours later, Summer woke, feeling disoriented. It was dark. She reached over tentatively and found Nic’s side of the bed empty.
A stab of betrayal hit her.
Tell me this man is not working right now.
She wanted to growl. Had Nic actually gotten up and headed to his office? Was he working on policy? Or, worse, despite what he’d said, had he retreated to some emergency at the hospital? Yes, sometimes there would be emergencies, but there was also an entire hospital staff and a work schedule—Nic wasn’t the only doctor on the island!
He couldn’t possibly have fallen back into his workaholic habits this soon. Could he?
Damn it. Had she trusted him too soon? He’d said all the right things. Had he meant them?
She kept smoothing her hand over the bed, then abruptly realized: Harry wasn’t there, either.
Panic hit her, and she quickly flipped on the bedside light. Neither Nic nor Harry was in the bed. She hopped out of bed, trying to get her bearings, trying to figure out where they could have gone.
She heard a noise, a low humming sound, then saw that there was the low glow of a nightlight coming from Harry’s room. She padded down the hallway in her bare feet. Harry’s bedroom door was mostly closed, so she pushed the door open quietly, standing in the doorframe, taking in the sight in front of her.
Nic was sitting in a rocking chair, Harry nuzzled against his broad chest. He had his eyes closed, as did Harry, and he was rocking him. Harry was making little sleepy noises, his fist bunching in Nic’s T-shirt. Nic was smiling a sleepy smile as he stroked his son’s back in soothing circles.
It took her a second, but she realized that she recognized the lullaby Nic was singing—an old, classic song, “Save the Last Dance.” She smiled and felt emotion welling up in her as he sang the love song in a surprisingly steady baritone.
She joined in on the chorus, and his eyes snapped open. He looked a little embarrassed, but also grinned as they finished the song together. Then he put Harry in his bed, tucking him in, and kissing him on the head. She did the same, and the two of them walked out hand in hand, heading back towards Nic’s bedroom.
“I didn’t even know you sang,” she teased gently. Nic shot her a rueful smirk.
“I don’t, if I can help it. That’s Erik’s thing,” he joked. “But I’d forgotten… my parents used to sing that to my brother and me when we were really little. Then they’d go in the hallway and dance, even though there wasn’t any other music. My father would hum to her, and they’d just sort of sway. I mean, I didn’t appreciate it as a kid, but looking back, it was really sweet.”
“That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.”
He turned, tugging her to a stop. Then he wrapped his arms around her and started humming. They rocked gently, a simple two-step. Then he brushed his lips over hers, softly, a promise of kisses to come. “I love you, Summer,” he breathed against her mouth.
“I love you, too,” she replied.
They swayed for a minute, then she kissed him a bit more seriously, leading him back to the bedroom. They took off their clothes, climbing into his sumptuous bed and clinging to each other. He wrapped his arm around her, kissing her forehead, her temple. Summer shivered, although cold was the furthest thing from what she was feeling. “Do you remember that night, the first night we got together?” she asked. “That night we saved that kid’s life?”
He nodded. “How could I forget?” he said. “It was one of the most important nights of my life. I found you. And ultimately, you saved two lives that night—his, and mine.”
She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassed pleasure. “Can you really walk away from being a doctor, Nic?”
He sighed, cuddling her closer. “It’s not going to be easy,” he admitted. “But once I saw what I was doing—that it wasn’t for me, that I’d made this desperate decision to try to honor my brother—it was easier. I’ll mourn Tom every day. He was my brother, and I love him. But he wouldn’t want me to sacrifice my future and my happiness just to do something that would ultimately break me. And I think that in the long run, I would run into a patient I couldn’t save. And I don’t know how I would have responded.”
She hugged him tight against her, her heart beating fiercely.
“I’ll probably still be a bit of a workaholic,” he admitted. “Type A personality. My parents said I’ve always been like that. But I am going to draw firmer boundaries. You and Harry are my first priority. I want to make sure you feel that, that you know that, every day.”
Summer smiled in the darkness. “That sounds good.”
“And if I don’t,” Nic said, humor clear in his voice, “you can smack me and tell me to pull my head out of my ass.”
Summer started laughing. “I will hold you to that.”
“Of course, if you’d rather do something less, ah, confrontational,” he said, pressing hot kisses against the column of her neck, “I’m sure we can figure out other ways to distract me from my workaholic tendencies.”
“Oh?” she teased, wriggling slightly, pressing her naked flesh against his until it was obvious that he was feeling… distracted. He growled, nipping at her jawbone, and she shivered.
“Summer?” he breathed into her ear.
“Hmmm?” She wrapped her arms around him, her fingertips digging into his back muscles, encouraging him to get even closer to her.
“Will you marry me?”
She froze, yanking away. “Wait. What?”
In the faint light, his eyes blazed like torches. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and Harry. I never want to feel the fear I felt this morning—the fear that I might lose you forever. Stay with me. Be my wife.”
She swallowed hard. This was it. The big moment.
She ought to be more afraid, but she wasn’t. For the first time in a long time, she felt completely sure.
“Yes,” she whispered, then took a deep breath and repeated, more clearly and in a strong voice: “Yes, Nic. I’ll marry you.”
Nic groaned, crushing her to him. “I’ll do everything I can to make you and Harry happy,” he said.
“You better,” she teased, then kissed him, hard. “You do that just by being you—the real you, the natural you. We’ll figure it out from there.”
“Damned right,” Nic said. Then, from there, they moved together, bodies pressed tight, mouths meshed, sealing their promises with the passion that burned through them.
