I leaned back in my padded rocking chair. Nick had painted such a nice picture of what our alternate future might be. A simpler life, with simpler jobs, and simpler choices. Years ago, I told him I fell in love with a person, not a prince. But they don’t exist separately. They will always be one and the same.

“No holds barred?” I asked him.

“None.”

“There is no clean exit for us,” I said. “It might be different if there were. But something will always be chasing us.”

Nick gazed pensively at the daughter in his arms. “Gran said that when she first held Father, he seemed so pure, and all she wanted was to raise him strong enough to face his destiny. All I can do is make my best guess at which path is right for them, and ultimately, being infamous won’t be any easier for them than being famous. It could be rather worse.”

He gestured with his chin in my direction. “And imagine the teenage rebellion when she finds out she could’ve been the bloody queen,” he joked. “I’d better double down on this now.”

“Like a vow renewal, of sorts,” I said.

“If I’ve learnt anything from all the Real Housewives, it is that renewing one’s vows is a death knell for any relationship.”

“Too true,” I said. “I’ll think of another metaphor.”

Both babies began to wriggle and mewl.

“What’s the matter, poppet?” Nick cooed. “Did luncheon go down the wrong way?”

But the energy in the whole room had started to shift, and maybe the girls sensed it. I craned my neck and saw, in the distance, the doctors and nurses exchanging frantic expressions, then scurrying over to form a line toward the door. I heard the water at the scrubbing station turn on, and the tear of the plastic around another sterile pre-soaped brush, before a very specific voice drifted through the NICU.

“This soap smells ghastly,” we heard Queen Eleanor say. “How dreadful that these poor babies start life thinking that the world reeks of loo cleaner.”

Nick and I exchanged holy shit looks, and shortly thereafter, the Queen appeared in front of us wearing a lavender coatdress and matching hat, smiling and nodding and politely thanking the staff for taking such wonderful care of all the babies. “And particularly mine,” she said, stopping in front of me. She leaned down and poked at a little foot that had come free of its swaddle. “Hello, madam,” she said. “It’s your favorite relative.”

Everyone scattered, having paid sufficient respects, and the three of us were alone in our corner of the NICU. One of the nurses, as she left, pulled the curtains around us for privacy.

“They’re so tiny,” Eleanor marveled.

“Would you like to hold one?” I asked. Eleanor shrank back a bit, nervous, so I added, “Like all the women in this family, they’re tougher than anyone thinks.”