I watch through the glass as Ben and Ollie, who were clearly very worried, high-five each other. What a strange life we’ve got. And it’s about to get much stranger. The word huge comes floating back to my mind as I listen to Tessa sob. Fuck me. I fight the urge to ask ‘exactly how huge?’ and opt for supportive rather than terrified husband.
“It’ll be okay, Tessa. I don’t care how big you get, I promise I’ll still find you attractive.”
“Oh, thanks!” she spits out, shrugging away from me.
“What? What did I say?”
“You’re supposed to say I won’t get huge, not that you’ll love me anyway.” She folds her arms and makes a tsking sound.
“Well, how am I supposed to know how big you’ll get? I’ve never been through this before.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” I sigh heavily. “I had no idea I was so virile. I mean, had I known, we could have taken some precautions. I’m not sure what type, but something at least, so less of my swimmers would have gotten through.”
Xavier cuts in, “Actually, Your Highness, that’s not how it works with multiples. The princess would have most likely dropped two eggs during her last cycle, which will result in fraternal twins. A less likely scenario is that the one egg was fertilized, then split, resulting in identical twins. Either way, it’s got nothing to do with you.”
I’m not sure what look I’m giving him right now, but I know it’s conveying my irritation because his smile falters, then he says, “Not that you’re not highly potent, sir.”
The limo stops at the back of the palace, and Tessa opens the door before Ben can get to it. She slides out and starts up the steps slowly. I take a deep breath and follow her, hoping like hell I’ll figure out the perfect thing to say. We walk down the hall to the private residence, and I wave off Vincent, who tries to flag me down because I’m late for a meeting. I open the door to our apartment and step aside to allow Tessa to go in ahead of me.
She turns to me and sighs, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I think I just need a bit of time to let this sink in.”
“That’s okay. If I found out I was growing two human beings at the same time, I think I’d be in a bit of a crusty mood as well.” I wrap my arms around her and draw her in for a hug. “We’ll get through this together, you know. Well, not really together because you have to do all of the pregnancy and birthing, but I’ll be right by your side, trying very hard not to piss you off the entire time, okay?”
Tessa nods into my shoulder. “Thanks. You should go to your meeting.”
“I’ll cancel it if you want me to stay.”
She pulls back a bit and shakes her head. “I think I’m going to just lie down for a bit.”
“Okay. Promise you’ll text me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
I give her a long kiss on the forehead, then say, “I know it’s a big shock, but I’m actually pretty excited. Two little Langdon babies to love. We won’t even have to take turns holding them.”
Tessa smiles for a second, then her eyebrows knit back together in fear.
“It’ll be okay. We’ll have as much help as we need.”
“I know. I just have to wrap my head around it. I’ll be fine.” She takes a deep breath and gives me a firm nod. “Get going. You have people waiting.”
“None as important as you.”
She grins up at me, then pretends to be mad. “Stop being romantic. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”
“Sorry for being so virile.”
“Seriously, stop with that.”
“Sorry. It’s just that it’s the perfect ego boost.”
“NEWS FROM VALCOURT Women’s Health Clinic as Royal BabyWatch continues today. Giles Bigley is here with the scoop,” Veronica Platt says, smiling into the camera.
Giles appears on screen standing in front of the clinic, microphone in hand. “Yes, Veronica, according to witnesses, Princess Tessa and Prince Arthur were seen earlier today leaving the Women’s Health Clinic, where it’s rumoured they had been in the ultrasound office for a couple of hours.”
“Really? Isn’t it customary for members of the royal family to have these types of exams at the palace?”
“Yes, Veronica, it is. It would seem the young couple is foregoing the extra expense as they prepare for their child’s arrival.”
“Interesting. Could this be a sign of money trouble for the Langdons?”
“Possibly, but doubtful. You’ll remember the statement they released announcing the pregnancy itself, in which they said they were planning to use Avonia’s excellent public health care system and not expect special treatment while they’re expecting.”
“Right. Based on the footage of them leaving the clinic today, it would seem that they may be about to change their minds about that.”
“Quite right. The footage, sent in by a viewer, shows the royal couple looking most displeased.”
The camera cuts away, and the video starts to roll. Giles provides commentary. “You can see that both of them look rather angry.”
“Or it is possible they’re in shock, Giles?” Veronica asks.
“Yes, I’d say that could be the case. The question is, could this be a sign of health troubles for Princess Tessa or the baby?”
“Let’s hope not.”
The video stops, and a split screen of the two reporters is revealed. Veronica nods gravely. “After this break, we’ll be joined by ABNC’s body language expert, Frieda Goodman, and she’ll help us try to make sense of what we’re seeing. Stay tuned for this and a look at this summer’s hottest cocktails after these messages from our sponsors.”
EIGHTEEN
Sunday Morning’s All Right for Fighting, Too...
Tessa - 18 Weeks
Text from Mum:
Tessa, it's Mum. Isn't this fun? I'm texting you from the other side of the palace! Where I live! Just wanted to find out if you're coming over for Sunday dinner at our apartment. The commute will be an absolute nightmare for you I'm sure (wink, wink), but see if you and Arthur can make it anyway. We’re planning to have a meal to celebrate the news about the twins. The rest of the family is positively thrilled!
Text from Finn:
Twins? How the fuck are you going to manage twins? Whatever you do, please don't buckle on the whole nanny thing. I have a bet going with the boys that I'm going to lose a hundred dollars if you fold and hire a nanny before the babies are a month old. So if you could just last that long I’ll split the winnings with you.
Text from Lars:
Nina said to give her a call if you're panicking. Are you panicking? I'm pretty sure you must be. Totally normal reaction. Are you going to be at the dinner on Sunday? We can chat then.
Text from Bram:
Bahahaha! You’re having twins. I love how you publicly swore off nannies before you found out how many babies you were having. Goofball. BTW, Irene says there's no reason to panic. The guy who did her boobs also does tummy tucks and trust me, he knows what he's doing.
Voicemail from Dad:
Tessa, love, it's your dad calling from all the way down in the east wing. Your mother's wondering if you would mind the family coming by early this Sunday to tour the palace with her. The ladies are dying to see the vault and try on some crowns and such.
Email from Dylan Sinclair
RE: Twins!
Dear Princess Tessa,
Disappointed to see you’ve canceled our Spin Session for Monday. We have SO much to discuss. A little bird told me you’re having twins! Is this true? If so, this is going to be even more epic than anything that’s ever been considered epic.
I’ve attached the latest results of your popularity following your declaration to go ‘nannyless.’ As I’m sure you’ve guessed, your popularity among those with incomes over $500,000 is at an all-time low, but the good news is they only make up 4% of the population and your popularity among those in ALL other incom
e brackets has soared far beyond what we expected.
I’ll give you time to have a peek, then loop back around with my ideas to maximize the twin thing.
Congrats and Ciao,
Dylan
IT HAS BEEN A WEEK since I found out I'm having twins. Not one baby, like Brooke or Kate or anyone else I know, for that matter. Two. Although I've done my best to appear to be a calm, collected, taking-it-all-in-stride-type woman, underneath it all I'm freaking out. I mean, two babies.
That is twice as many babies as I was expecting.
Double the feedings, double the diapers, double the poop in those diapers.
We have a family saying ever since Lars and Nina had Geoffrey and Josh—double the babies, triple the trouble. Now I'm not saying every set of twins is like that, but in all my years of babysitting them and seeing them at family functions, I can definitely say that what one doesn't think of, the other will. And quite frankly the thought of it is terrifying to me, because as far as ‘mumming’ goes, few people will be under the scrutiny that I will, and if I end up with a set of royal terrors, I’m going to be judged by everyone who’s even thought about having a child of their own.
But judgments aside, how the hell am I supposed to manage taking care of two newborns and keep up with my charitable and royal duties without help? It was one thing for me to say ‘no nannies’ when I thought I was carrying just the one baby, but two? Even Nina and Lars got help when they had Josh and Geoffrey, and Nina didn’t have to chair board meetings or attend several formal and semi-formal events each week. She pretty much stayed home in her pajamas for the better part of a year, and they had a woman come in at night for the first three months to help her out.
But I can hardly hire someone after making a public declaration that I’ll be the most hands-on royal mum of them all. Not without losing any ground I may have gained with the mommy crowd. I wonder if it would count if I hired someone to teach me how to look after babies? Nina mentioned something about some woman from New Zealand who travels around helping exhausted parents learn how to properly care for newborns—the Baby Tamer or some such? Maybe she could come in and show me all her secrets, and after a week with her, I’d be able to handle a dozen babies at once with no trouble at all, managing to feed, change, swaddle, and get them back to bed with the speed of a seasoned cowboy roping a calf. I should Google her and see if she’s available.
I AM CURRENTLY SITTING in my office, waiting for Dylan to arrive. I could only put off the meeting about Twin PR so long. Arthur was supposed to be in attendance as well, but the Crown Prince of Monaco is here for a visit, so Arthur’s tied up with that (lucky bastard). He’s sending Vincent in his place, so at least I’ll have some back up.
About two minutes before the meeting is to start, Vincent walks in, iPad in hand. "Good morning, Your Highness. I thought I would see if you had any questions before the arrival of the PR wonder." He gives me a sly grin, and I've never been so glad to get a whiff of blue cheese in my life.
“Thanks, Vincent. I do have one question. How do we get rid of her permanently?"
"If only. The king’s advisers seem rather fond of her methods. My best advice with regards to this meeting would be the same advice I could give you about the public nature of your life—try not to take it personally. Harder than it sounds, I know, but the sooner you master the skill of deflection, the better off you're going to be. Your children, too." He sits down across from my desk and sets up his iPad. "The truth is, whatever they say about you will bother you far less than what they say about your children, so developing a thick skin is going to be pretty much imperative."
Oh, bollocks. I never even thought about how awful it's going to be once the media get started criticizing the babies.
The look on my face must convey my thoughts because Vincent gives me a sympathetic nod, then says, "Don't worry, the media doesn't usually start on the children until they’re almost teenagers. You'll have time."
Dylan hurries into the room, tapping away on her cell phone with both thumbs as she simultaneously walks and greets us. Taking a seat next to Vincent, she finishes what she's doing before looking up and giving us each a broad smile. She then takes a deep breath and begins to speak at lightning speed.
"So, let's talk twins. This is going to be EPIC. Two babies is the best thing to ever happen to this monarchy. Now, Tessa, you may still be in shock—perfectly understandable if you are—but think of the wonderful press this is going to get us. The world is going to absolutely die when they see these two little babies in side-by-side photo ops. There will always be something to talk about—the constant comparing and contrasting will be ab fab. Which one’s the shy one? Which one’s the smart one? Which is the funny one? Which one is going to rule the nation?
“This whole thing is going to play out beautifully with regards to mummy groups, retirees, and surprisingly enough, men ages 45 to 54. Apparently, they find women who have twins to be absolutely fascinating. I'm not sure yet, but I am analyzing whether it's in a creepy way or out of admiration, but once I find out, I'll let you know." She looks up at me from her screen and then tilts her head. "Unless, of course, you'd rather not know."
"I'm not sure how knowing that will be of use to me."
"All right, I won’t tell you, then. Next topic, nannies. When you first announced that you were going nannyless, I thought you were insane, but if you manage to stick with that in the face of having two babies, you could very well parlay this whole thing into a semi-hero status for yourself and possibly achieving the most coveted position for all royal consorts—the People’s Princess.”
“I’m not sure I need semi-hero status, really. I’d just as soon have people not hate me so much.”
“Oh, we’re going way beyond ‘not hating’ here. We’re going to use these babies to take you straight to beloved status.”
“I don’t—”
“I know what you’re going to say. You don’t want to use your babies for publicity. I get it. I really do. But you’re just going to have to get past that guilt, okay?”
Vincent clears his throat. “Yes, well perhaps we should move off this point in favour of something more...practical.”
Dylan smiles and gives him a single nod. “Yes! Practical. Love that word. Speaking of words, this week’s cloud is actually showing three new positive words. That's a huge improvement over what we had even one week ago. I’m also seeing a great reduction in negative word usage related to your name, such as awful, fat, and useless—all of these are down twenty percent, as you can see on the cloud.”
She holds up her iPad for me. “See how small those words are this time?”
“Yes, brilliant.”
“That on its own is something to celebrate, but there's more. I’m seeing a noticeable shift in the public perception of your parents living in the palace. Earlier statements, as you know, were suggesting that you had somehow created that whole smoked-out-house situation to have them move in, whereas now, people are hoping they'll stay for your sake out of pity.”
I do my best to smile at the thought of being so outnumbered by babies that I’m now an object of pity.
Dylan tips back her can of Red Bull, emptying the last sips into her mouth, then keeps talking. “Now, I have some ideas on how we can keep this uptick in momentum going so we can really make some great strides over the coming weeks. I’ve collaged all my thoughts into a Prezi, and...” looking down at her iPad, she taps the screen, then looks back up at us and smiles triumphantly, "...these are my current suggestions for how to continue to win over the people. I'll give you a couple of minutes to take a look."
Standing, she walks over to the cart and pours herself a coffee. I click on the link she sent me, and immediately a presentation pops up featuring upbeat dance music and quick flashes of baby-related images. Dylan’s voice cuts in over the music as she describes in a very enthusiastic tone what she has in mind for me.
“What two things do people everywhere love? Babies and gamblin
g. Picture this: Two babies. One charity. One huge prize. The birth of your children allowing you to raise millions for the Children's Hospital in the Epic Royal Baby Sweepstakes. People can vote on the date, time of day, birth weights, and sexes of each of the babies. The prize will be four VIP tickets to your baby shower along with a five-thousand-dollar shopping spree at Bergdorf's. Tickets are twenty-five dollars each, and participants can purchase unlimited tickets, although they must be of age to gamble, of course.”
The door to my office swings open, and I hear Gillian saying, "...meeting right now."
Then I see my mother come rushing into the room, her new purchase—a long, flowing bright green chiffon scarf—trailing behind her as she glides across the room, hips first.
"Oh, she won't mind."
I press pause on the Prezi, then watch in horror as my mother's scrapbooking club enters the room behind her, cameras at the ready.
"Hello, Twinkle! I brought the girls here for our scrapbooking day and thought I’d take them on a bit of a tour of our home away from home."
I do my best not to look completely irritated and get up to greet some of my mum's oldest and dearest friends. I'm immediately surrounded by them as they fawn all over me and comment, and...oh yes...they are all taking turns touching my belly—my favourite thing in the world.
The good part is, I don't even really have to answer their questions, because three of them are talking directly to my midsection instead of to me, while the other two pepper me with questions at such a rapid-fire pace, I can't possibly hope to answer them fast enough.
Lucky for me, my mother takes it upon herself to answer for me. “Yes, January seventh...That's right, twins!...No, they don't run in the family. She probably dropped two eggs because she's getting older and women tend to do that when they're over thirty....”
Xavier, who’d been waiting in the exterior office, joined us as soon as the scrapbookers entered the room. I shoot him a frantic look, and he manages to squeeze himself in-between the ladies and myself, taking my elbow and shielding me with his other arm as he leads me back behind the safety of my desk.
The Royal Delivery Page 14