“A little, yes, but—”
“Tessa is not your mum, Arthur.”
“I’m aware of that. This isn’t Game of Thrones, Father, there are no incestuous relationships among Avonian royals.”
“Don’t try to be cute.”
“I never try to be cute. It just happens naturally.”
He shakes his head, then sighs heavily. “I almost wonder if there’s no point.”
I drop down onto a weight bench in front of him and say, “I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge. But if you’re about to tell me it wasn’t my fault that Mother killed herself, you can save your breath. I already know that.”
“Good. Because it would be ridiculous to think a five-year-old child could cause an adult to do that. You were a bit of a brat, but you weren’t that bad.”
“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“You’re welcome.” My father almost smiles, turning this into the closest thing to a Hallmark moment we’ve ever had.
He stares at me for a second before he speaks. When he does, he turns his gaze to the floor instead of meeting my eyes. “Your mother was very young when I met her. Nineteen. She had the right upbringing, the right family, and she was truly lovely. As you know, my parents selected her. Getting married wasn’t my idea. I was twenty-eight and wanted to play the field for a few more decades before getting on with the business of producing heirs.”
“You make it all sound so romantic.”
“It wasn’t.” He glances back at me. “But then the strangest thing happened. I fell in love with her. Madly, stupidly in love. But what I didn’t realize was that she would never love me back. She’d already given her heart to a classmate of hers—a young man who was training to become a butcher, of all things. Her parents forbid their relationship, handed her over to me, and I thought the matter was settled.”
“Oh Christ, you’re not about to tell me I’m not really your son, are you?”
Shaking his head quickly, my father says, “No. Obviously not. What I’m trying to tell you is that your mother was miserable here long before we had children. I thought I could win her over, I mean, what’s not to want? A Crown Prince, a beautiful palace, her every desire fulfilled with a snap of her fingers. I believed she’d grow to love me, but she never did.
“After you were born, I grew resentful of her because I realized I’d never be the love of her life. I’d always be a distant second to him. I started to hate her for it. Grew cold. Took comfort elsewhere. I knew then I never should have married her, but it was too late. Divorce just isn’t something this family did. No royals did at that time without it turning into a spectacular scandal. I thought we’d have our second child—”
“The spare—”
“I’ve always hated that saying.”
“Me, too.”
“Then why use…never mind. Anyway, I thought we could just live basically separate lives and ride it out for the next fifty years or so. But clearly, she couldn’t live with that.”
“Clearly.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying she wasn’t ill, because she most certainly was. But there was just so much more to it. After she died, I found some letters—cliché, I know. Turns out they’d been writing since we got married. I forced myself to read them although it nearly killed me. In one of the letters, he wrote that he, too, wished that you were his son and the three of you could be a family, so that provided enough insight into her state of mind for me. Eventually, he wrote to tell her he found someone else and was getting married. It was postmarked a month before she died.”
My entire body goes numb as I let his words sink in.
“So it wasn’t so much postpartum, and it certainly wasn’t because you shouted at her that day. It was the thought of a lifetime with me instead of him.” His eyes have a glassy look, and for once it isn’t because he’s three sheets to the wind.
I find myself doing the most surprising thing. I reach out and put my hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry, Father. That must have been awful for you.”
He puts his hand on mine. “It was. I wasn’t left only grief-stricken, I was guilt-ridden and angry. It was like the most spectacular way to be rejected, to have my wife choose death over having to be with me.” Shaking his head as though to clear the fog of this horrible memory, he says, “Anyway, all that to say you and Tessa will be fine. You are the love of her life. Anyone who’s around the two of you for more than a minute can see that. It’s truly sickening.”
I chuckle a little, and when he looks at me, he smiles. “You’ve turned into exactly the type of man I wish I had become, Arthur.”
My head snaps back a little in shock, and I stammer over my answer. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For becoming a good leader in spite of your old man. You saved this family, Arthur. You and your strange, potty-mouthed wife, and I owe you both.”
“Not really.”
“Yes, really. Now, to the second reason I came to find you. These past months have been a bit of a farewell to my freedom tour, in a way. I want you to be a better father than I was. In my case, staying away from you and Arabella was probably the right thing, but you’re different. You’ll be a wonderful father, and because of that your children will need you near. I’ve decided to take back the reins and…well…reign.” He stands and nods. “And don’t worry. I won’t fuck it up.”
He turns and starts for the door, and I find myself wishing he wouldn’t go, which is strange because I’ve pretty much hated him since I was ten. I stand. “Dad, hang on.”
He turns back and smiles. “What is it?”
“Just this.” I take a couple of steps and hug him. A long, sweaty hug that neither of us was expecting.
He wraps his arms around me and hugs me back, and even though he’s shorter than me, I somehow feel small again, but not in a bad way.
The door swings open, and my father’s senior adviser, Phillip, walks in. “Your Majes…” His voice trails off.
We break apart and give each other a quick, formal nod before he pivots on his heel. “Yes, Phillip, what do you need?”
They walk out the door, and I find myself standing in the middle of the gym, trying to sort out what the fuck just happened. The story about my mother sinks in, and I’m rocked by the sadness of it all. I’m all at once filled with a sense of hope as well, knowing I love my grouchy, enormously swollen Hobbit wife with everything in me and she loves me right back with an intensity that’s sometimes frightening. I toss my towel in the ‘used’ bin and set off to go fix everything.
****
Irene answers the door, her face spreading into a wide smile when she sees who it is. “Prince Arthur, what are you doing here?” A look of understanding crosses her face, and she lowers her voice. “Oh, you came to make up with Evi and Ruben.”
“I'm here to try.”
She steps aside, giving me barely enough room to get into the apartment, then says, “Good luck. They’re really pissed at you.”
“Brilliant.”
“I'll go get them.” Irene walks down the hall, and I stand awkwardly in the doorway, taking a look around. It's a nice apartment with a view of the park across the street, but I can see how there wouldn't be enough room for four adults to live comfortably here—especially if two of those adults are Evi and Ruben Sharpe. But I suppose thoughts like that aren’t going to be useful for me if I intend to patch things up. My hands feel clammy, and I wipe them along the sides of my suit jacket as I wait. A moment later, I hear Evi's voice getting closer.
“Well, just give him a chance. You have no idea what he’s going to say.”
“I don't care what he’s going to say.”
When they walk into the living room, Ruben gives me a solid glare, then folds his arms across his chest. “I suppose you're here with a bill for the damage.”
“No. I'm here to apologize and beg you to move back
in with us,” I say, feeling like an absolute cad when I see the hurt in their eyes. “I never should've spoken to you like I did. I was completely out of turn, and I'm truly sorry.”
Evi smiles and nods. “Good enough for me, I'll go pack.”
Spinning on her heel, she disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with Ruben and Irene (who is seated on the couch, pretending to watch a daytime talk show when in actual fact, she's eavesdropping).
Ruben shakes his head at me. “You really hurt Evi's feelings. Not mine, mind you, but I won't tolerate people speaking to my wife the way you did.”
“Nor should you. It was quite unforgivable for me to lose my temper like that,” I say. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never had a good feeling toward me again. You don’t ever have to talk to me again, but Tessa needs you and Evi right now. She’s a mess. She’s also completely furious with me, and she’s scared.” Sighing, I say, “So am I.”
His face softens a bit so I take the opportunity to try and explain.
“I'm not sure if you'll be able to relate to this at all,” I say, looking Ruben straight in the eye. “But as soon as I found out we were expecting, something just happened to me—I can’t exactly explain it, but I suddenly found myself a bit of a nervous wreck, to be honest. And I've been making some shockingly bad decisions, not the least of which was how I overreacted to what happened the other day.”
“That you have.”
“But…I think I got it out of my system, and I'm going to be okay now.”
“You better be. Because in a matter of days you're going to have the responsibility of a lifetime, and you had better bloody well step up.”
“I will. I promise you I will take the best possible care of Tessa and our children,” I swallow my emotions and keep talking. “I’d do anything for them. Take any risk necessary, lay down my life if I had to…”
He gives a conciliatory nod. “I've never doubted you would.”
“Thank you, Ruben. That means a lot to me.”
“Well, I mean it. I couldn’t have asked for a better husband for Tess, even if you have been acting like a jackass lately.”
I chuckle a little. “I have been, haven’t I?”
“Pretty normal for a father-to-be, actually.”
“Is it?” I ask.
He nods. “That’s why I’m willing to let this whole thing go.”
“Really? I’m forgiven?”
“Yep.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve also given some thought to what you said about how we treat Tess and I suppose there’s some truth to it. We haven’t always given her the encouragement she needed or the credit she deserved. I intend to tell her as much. Evi, too. We both feel quite bad, actually.”
“That’ll mean a lot to Tessa.” Shaking my head, I say, “This parenting thing might be somewhat trickier than I thought.”
Ruben snorts a bit. “It’s the hardest fecking thing you’ll ever do. But also the very best.”
“I’m in for a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”
“You have no idea,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder. “But you won’t be alone to figure it out.”
“Does that mean you'll come back?”
“All packed!” Evi calls from down the hall.
Ruben glances down the hall and chuckles. “Apparently so.”
“I'll go get your bags,” I say with a smile. I take a step, then turn back to Ruben. “Ruben, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For forgiving me.”
He smiles at me. “That's what families do.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Extremely Logical Priorities, Ice Storms, and Birthing Hips
Tessa
I'm making myself a tuna sandwich with one slice of bread for elevenses. I now have so little room for my stomach that I eat tiny meals several times a day to avoid horrible indigestion/heartburn. I’ve already showered, so I’ll start another round of visualizing my cervix opening as soon as I’ve eaten. Although it won’t work. I can’t concentrate long enough to get anything going, not that it would necessarily work anyway.
Arthur left for his workout at 7:30 this morning, and he still hasn’t come back yet, which is odd for a Saturday. Although, I suppose it’s not that odd, since we are basically avoiding each other at the moment. We still haven't made up from our fight last week, which is a very bad sign, I'd say. I know you're never supposed to go to bed angry, but every time I think about having a conversation with him, I realize there's no point in bringing it up until I can calm down.
But the longer this goes on, the harder it is for either of us to approach the subject. We’re exceedingly cordial to each other when we find ourselves in the same room, but there is very little eye contact and absolutely no affection coming from either of us, even though I'd very much like to give him a big hug. Well, sort of; I'm still pretty pissed about how he treated my parents and the fact that the two attempts we've made to discuss my parents have failed, ending with him insisting it's for the best to have them gone. For my sake. Hah! Not bloody likely.
The door opens, and I hear him come in. Dexter gets up to greet him, but I stay in the kitchen.
“Hello, Dexter. Have you been keeping Tessa company whilst I was out?” Pause. “Good boy.”
Arthur comes around the corner with Dexter at his heels. He stops when he sees me and gives me a sort of sad smile that breaks my heart a little.
“Hi,” I say with a slight wave. “I’m making tuna for elevenses. Don’t suppose you want some?”
He shakes his head. “I’m all right, thanks.”
I sigh, knowing he doesn’t want anything from me. “Okay. Where’ve you been?”
“I was out getting you something you need.”
“Is that so?” Here we go again. “What if you ask me what I need instead of assuming?”
He walks over and stands directly in front of me. Staring down at me, he says, “Let me give it a try and see if I can figure it out for myself. You need me to listen to you. You need me to stop assuming I know what you need, and more than that, you need me to know that you know what you need better than anyone else.”
“That’s a pretty good start, actually.”
“And you need your parents nearby to help you through the next several scary weeks.”
I narrow my eyes, feeling a little confused. “Did you go get my parents?”
“I went to Bram’s and begged their forgiveness and asked them to move back here—not just until the house is ready, but until we feel like we can handle things on our own.”
“What did they say?”
“Your father needed some convincing, a lot of groveling, and a steadfast promise that I’ll always look after his little girl.”
“And my mum?”
“Basically started packing the moment I got there,” he says with a little grin.
“Of course she did.”
He holds out his hands to me, and I place mine on his, feeling an enormous weight lifting off my chest. “What about Mr. Whiskers?”
“He's not coming. Apparently, they've sent him to a cat rehab expert. She’s going to keep him for a few months and see if she can cure him of his destructive ways.”
“So, are they back already?”
“Tomorrow. They’re staying at Lars and Nina’s tonight to mind the kids whilst they’re at a Christmas party.”
“Okay, well, good. I guess. I mean, I know they’ve been a real pain in the arse, especially for you and the staff, but I just need my parents right now, you know?”
“I don’t really know, Tess,” I say in a gentle voice. “My parents weren’t exactly the type you could rely on.”
“I wish you could’ve had what I had when you were growing up.”
Arthur shrugs. “Don’t feel sorry for me. It all turned out in the end because I found you.”
“I love you so much, it hurts.” I reach up and kiss him, then we press our foreheads together.
“This past week has been absolutely awful. I never want to fight like this again,” I say.
“Me neither. Let's promise each other that no matter what, we’ll just keep talking until we sort out whatever is wrong, even if we’re up all night.”
“Deal.” Arthur pulls me in for a big hug. He can barely reach around to my sides now, but he makes it work anyway. “I love you, Tessa Langdon.”
A sharp kick comes from my tummy, and we both laugh a little.
“Was that a fluke or—”
Another kick has Arthur grinning and pulling back. He lowers his head, puts his hands on my belly and says, “Hello, in there. Come out soon, little babies, so we can meet you.”
A long rippling across my belly is his answer. He looks up at me and grins. “I think they know me now.”
“I think so, too. They’re going to love you, you know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you won me over, and I don’t like anyone.”
****
The next morning, I wake with a sense of urgency (and not just because there is a tiny human bouncing away on my bladder). This is different. It’s the strangest feeling—like I don’t have enough time to get things done. After I go pee, I check the clock and see it’s not quite five in the morning. I crawl back into bed, where it’s warm and cozy, hoping for sleep to come, but every time I close my eyes, they spring back open and I glance around the room.
What is wrong with me? I mean, seriously. I sigh and stare at Arthur, tempted to wake him from his long winter’s nap.
It’s Christmas Eve. That’s why I’m awake. I love Christmas normally, but this year I’m even more excited to open the enormous gift Arthur bought me. It’s been sitting under the tree for days now, and I have no clue what it could be. I tried shaking it a little, but it was so heavy I couldn’t even budge it. And I know you’re supposed to be more thrilled to give than receive, but honestly, it’s huge.
Hmm…I wonder if it’s too early to wake Arthur and suggest we exchange gifts? Maybe, yes.
It’s no use. I can’t sleep. Oh, I know, I can finish wrapping presents for my nieces and nephews. I get up, pull on my bathrobe, and wander to the living room. Glancing out the window, I see that in the time since we've fallen asleep, the entire world seems to have been covered with snow. I walk over to take a look, but as soon as I reach the window, I feel a dull ache that starts in my back and spreads across to my abdomen.
The Crown Jewels Boxed Set (A Crown Jewels Romantic Comedy Series) Page 77