The Billionaire Prince’s Pregnant Fiancée by Leslie North

Epilogue

Nic came out of the operating room at the Fervian Royal hospital, and Erik bounced to his feet like a jack-in-the-box, his heart in his throat. "Are they all right?"

"Had to do a C-section, but don't worry. Mother and daughter are doing fine. You’ll be able to see them in a little bit… the anesthesia needs to wear off, and they’re cleaning and taking care of your daughter as we speak. Just be patient."

Erik let out a long, shaky breath, and leaned on Ben. He was a lucky man. Nic had agreed to preside over the birth, working with Clara's Fervian OB-GYN. They had planned on a natural birth, but the baby was big, and things had gone awry, necessitating the operation. Erik had been kicked out of the room, causing him to go into a panic. At least Ben had been there for moral support. His father, Pelle, and Aliana were anxiously waiting at the castle, since labor had taken over twenty-four hours and Clara had sent them back for rest. "Thank you," Erik said sincerely, shaking Nic's hand, then giving his best friend a hug. He did the same to Ben, who clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. "Oh, my God. I feel like... I don't even have words for what I feel like."

"I understand," Nic said. "Even if I wasn't there for Harry's birth, finding out I was a father was the most mind-blowing, overwhelming thing to ever happen to me. It's life-changing." Nic smiled. "In the best possible way."

"Yes. That," Erik agreed. "How is your family, by the way?" he added, realizing that he'd been too fixated and worried about Clara and the baby to ask before.

Nic's smile was gentle and relaxed. "They're great," Nic said. "Summer is doing a wonderful job at Mynia's hospital, and Harry and I have built some quality sandcastles together, as well as learning to bake biscuits—although I’ll admit, I do the baking, he does the eating. He's a funny, smart, strong kid, and I couldn't be happier."

"You do look happy," Erik said.

"They're my life," Nic said. "Now that your Clara is taken care of, I'm going to be going on vacation with them for two weeks. We need the alone time."

Erik smiled. He loved seeing his best friend, who for decades had been so stressed and serious, now was relaxed, happily in love, and enjoying time with a family that meant everything to him. He then looked at Ben, whose brow was furrowed... not typical for their friend. He’d seemed distracted all day. "What about you, Ben?" Erik asked, curious. "I can't thank you enough for being there for me, man. I might've lost my mind waiting. I love my family, but my father is not exactly… well. Let’s just say he would’ve just made me more anxious. I had to have Pelle drag him away so he wouldn’t try to intimidate the medical staff more than they already were.”

Ben sent him a tired grin. “No worries. You’re one of my best friends, of course I’d be here for you.”

Erik studied him. “We are best friends,” he echoed. “So that goes both ways. If you’re worried about something, you can talk to us. You know that, right?”

Ben looked startled. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Erik exchanged a glance with Nic, who shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem… off.”

“I noticed it, too,” Nic added. “And you know how oblivious I can be.”

Ben sighed. “It’s nothing I can talk about. Not quite yet.” He grimaced. “But when I get my head wrapped around it, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

Erik nodded, but didn’t want to push. “I do have something to ask you, though.”

Ben tilted his head quizzically, then gestured for Erik to continue.

“I was talking with Clara, and she agreed,” Erik said, a little tentatively. “We’d like it if you would be godfather to our little girl.”

Ben’s eyes went wide. “Me?” he stuttered out, then his smile was wide and real, nothing like the pale imitation he’d been giving all afternoon. “Of course, man. I’d be honored.”

“Thank you,” Erik said, giving him a half-hug and clapping him on the back. Then his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “It’s my father,” he said, excusing himself and answering it.

“Is she all right?” his father demanded, without even saying hello. “Is the baby all right? Is Clara? What’s going on? Damned Pelle dragged me back to the castle… really, I am King! What kind of…”

“She’s fine,” Erik interrupted, before his father could go into full-on rant mode, his preferred way of dealing when he was anxious or upset. He was genuinely close to Clara now, and worried about her as much as his own children, and of course he was worried about the baby. “I’m just waiting for the doctors to let me in to see them. Clara and Linnea both are fine.”

His father paused. “What… what did you say?” he finally croaked.

Erik smiled. He hadn’t told his father—he’d wanted it to be a surprise. “The baby,” Erik clarified gently. “We’ve decided to name her Linnea Claire… after Mother.”

Another long pause, and a sniffle. “Your mother would have loved that,” his father said, his voice breaking a little at the end. “She would’ve loved to have been here.”

Erik felt emotion rising in his chest. “I know, Father. I know.”

He saw Nic gesturing to him, and he cleared his throat. “I’m going to go in and check on them,” Erik said, excitement bubbling through him. He was going to meet his daughter for the first time. “Oh my God. I’m a father.”

“There’s no feeling like it,” his own father said proudly. “Go in and take care of your family.”

Erik rang off, and then followed Nic down the hallway from the waiting room to the VIP private hospital room, his heart pounding like it was trying to escape his chest. There was a vague ringing in his ears. He had never been so excited, and so nervous, in his life.

Nic opened the door, and there Clara was, cradling a squishy, red-faced, closed-eyed little person, swaddled in a blanket, with a little knit cap on her head. He was vaguely aware of nurses bustling around, but all he could focus was the tiny face peeping out.

“Come meet your daughter,” Clara said, in an exhausted voice.

He walked over, his knees feeling a little weak, and then sat on the side of the bed. Clara looked knackered, not surprisingly, but even with her hair damp with sweat and her lack of makeup, she looked gorgeous. He especially liked the happy smile and the glow of love in her eyes.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “For loving me. For marrying me. For having our daughter with me.”

“I love you,” she said back. Then she grinned impishly. “Want to hold her?”

He startled. “What, now?”

“You got a plane to catch?” she teased. “Yes, now. Come on. Arms out.”

He felt fear grow like a ball of ice in his stomach. What if he did it wrong? Dropped her? She looked so fragile, so tiny. Still, he held his hands out.

“Support her head. And her bottom,” Clara instructed. “Don’t worry. You’ve got this.”

Erik held her, cradling Linnea in his arms and pulling her to his chest. Then he stared at her wispy little blonde eyebrows, the way her lashes rested against her chubby little cheeks. The way that tiny little mouth worked soundlessly as she yawned.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Clara murmured, and he could only nod.

“I want to be the best father for her,” he said, his voice cracking.

Clara sat up, rubbing his back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “You will be.”

* * *

Two days later, Clara was in Erik’s royal apartments at the castle, in a sitting room overlooking the sea, bundled up with the baby on a rocking chair and looking out at the night sky. Well, Erik and her apartments, she supposed, with a smile. They had been living there together since their royal wedding, and the tabloids had been on baby watch for months. They were reaching a tentative truce with their newest princess, and Clara was relieved. Especially since they were so excited about Linnea.

They were determined to raise her both as a royal who was aware of how lucky she was. Even though the King was somewhat scandalized, Clara and Erik had made it clear that Linnea wasn’t going to grow up insulated by royal privilege. She lived in a castle for now, yes… but she was going to learn to make her own bed and clean her room, as well as what eleven courses at a royal dinner were.

In the interim, she had gotten closer to Pelle and Aliana—especially the latter, who was becoming the sister she’d never had and always wanted. They were talking about possible ways that Pelle and Aliana could have children, especially through adoption, even though the King was flustered at the idea and how it might impact the line of succession.

Clara was sure they’d work it out, though. The stoic King turned into an absolute marshmallow when faced with his tiny grandchild. She got the feeling that little Linnea was going to wrap the Lion of Fervia around her miniscule pinkie.

She’d just fed the surprisingly loud little one, which normally knocked her out. Right now, though, her wide blue-green eyes were open, and she was staring around, looking like she was trying to decide whether she should start yelling again or not. Clara sighed. It was late, and she was looking forward to getting a bit more sleep.

“Is she fussing?”

Clara looked up to see Erik stride in. He was wearing sleep pants and a soft T-shirt, his hair sticking up at angles. She felt her heart warm as she smiled at him.

“She’s deciding whether she wants to or not.”

He gathered Linnea up in his arms, rocking her like a pro. He’d been wonderful with the baby. They had talked about how they were going to make it work when they both attended Oxford in the fall, and they’d decided on some hired childcare but also sharing parenting duties while they juggled their studies. Her parents were eager to see their new grandbaby, as well. It was all thrilling, even if she knew it was going to be a lot of hard work. The fact that she knew Erik was fully on board to help, in whatever way he could, meant more to her than he would ever know. She watched him and their daughter with love as he moved around the room, humming to the baby, and she watched Linnea’s eyes go heavy with sleep, her little mouth yawning. He popped in a pacifier with ease, and soon enough the baby was snoozing on his chest.

“What’s that you’re humming?” Clara asked, as she got out of the chair and followed him into their bedroom, watching him carefully place Linnea in her bassinet.

He flashed a lopsided smile. “It’s, ah, a lullaby,” he said. “I started writing it a while ago, and I just finished it. No lyrics yet, but… it’s all hers.”

Just when she thought she couldn’t love him more. “You wrote our baby a lullaby?”

“She makes me feel music.” Erik’s soft, matter-of-fact words made Clara melt. “So do you.”

“I love you,” Clara breathed. “So much. I am so lucky and grateful I met you.”

They kissed, softly, then he wrapped his arms around her. “She’ll be up again soon enough,” Erik said. “Let’s get to bed.”

They snuggled up together, and she felt him press a kiss to the crown of her head. “We’ve got this,” he said, confidently.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, we do.”