She just wants to go down to the vault again. Arthur took my parents down when they first moved in, and she hasn’t stopped talking about it since.
“No time for a trip to the vault, I’m afraid, but thanks for the idea.” I fiddle with my shirt collar for a minute and pull a face, then sigh.
“Come here,” she says, tapping my shoulder. I turn to face her, and she adjusts my shirt collar for me, then nods. “There. Much better.”
“Not that it matters. I still look like the Cowntess of Camembert,” I mutter.
She gives me a knowing look. “I thought you might be feeling a little bit sorry for yourself.”
“Wouldn’t you if you were me?”
“I don’t think I would. You’re married to a wonderful man, you’re going to have twins, which I’d say is pretty special. You’ll lose all this weight later. But for now, you need to remember it doesn’t matter in the least what any of these awful people think of you. Only the opinion of one person will make the least bit of difference in your actual life and your future.”
“I know,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And I know Arthur thinks I’m beautiful.”
“Not Arthur, silly,” my mum says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “You.”
I tear up as the truth of what she’s just said sinks in.
“If you believe you’re an amazing, talented, beautiful woman, none of those stupid comments will hurt you in the least.”
“What if I’m not amazing or talented or beautiful?”
“Believe it anyway because to do otherwise will just wear you down.” She cups my cheeks with her hands, then says, “Besides, it’s true, you know. You’ve grown into a lovely young woman with so much to give.”
I pull back and narrow my eyes a bit. “Mum, if you really believe that, why haven’t you ever told me? Why didn’t you ever encourage me?”
“What are you talking about? I’m always trying to encourage you,” she says stiffly. “I’m constantly giving you tips on how you can better yourself. Would a mother do that if she didn’t care? I think not. She’d just say nothing.”
“Yes, I get that you nitpick because you care, but you rarely ever say anything remotely nice about me, whereas you’re always praising the boys to no end.”
My mum’s head snaps back a little. “That’s because boys are weak and they have such fragile egos. Besides, none of them would ever listen to a thing I had to say anyhow. It would have been a waste of breath, whereas with you...I took a special interest in helping you along because I knew you were strong enough to handle my helpful little comments.”
“But all the comments about how lacking in intelligence I am? How exactly was I supposed to change that?”
“I’ve never said you weren’t smart. That was your brothers. I’ve tried to help you with your accident-prone tendencies, but I don’t think there’s much that can be done, really. You’ve always been a bit of a disaster, ever since you were tiny. Remember the story of how you threw up on the Vicar at your christening?”
“Yes, I —”
“Right in his mouth when he held you over his head to present you. Then he threw up in the baptismal font. Oh, it was just awful—”
“You’ve already told—”
“I knew right then, I’d need to focus your attention on things you could do well, to help you find your way. You never liked Lego, so I knew you weren’t going to be an engineer or an architect like Noah or Finn. But who bought you all those books to read? Hmm?”
I give her a one-shoulder shrug.
“Life’s like poker. You play the hand you get dealt. You were never going to be Grace Kelly, but look at you, you’ve somehow managed to parlay what God gave you into a marriage to a Crown Prince—a pretty magnificent one at that. Now, don’t blow it because some nasty, jealous shrews are trying to make themselves feel better at your expense. That would make you stupid, and I’ve always thought that in your own way, you are quite smart.”
Huh. I was not expecting to hear that. Ever. “Thanks, Mum. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Oh, enough with the thinking. Just live, Tessa. Play the hand you’ve been dealt and enjoy every fracking moment of it because it’s the best hand anyone can get. It’s like you’ve been given a full house.”
“Or a royal flush?” I say with a little grin. “I think that’s the highest, isn’t it?”
She winks at me. “See how smart you are?” She reaches up and kisses me on the cheek. “Beautiful, too. You’ve got your father’s bright green eyes. Now, put all this nonsense behind you and get on with it. But first, you’d better do your lips. They’re so pale, it’s like they’ve disappeared.”
Oh, there we go. Now she’s back. I pick up my lipstick and apply it. Dexter comes by and stands beside me, watching me in the mirror. Huh, can he actually see me in the mirror? I reach down and pat his head. “Good boy.”
He’ll love me no matter how big I get.
My mum laughs. “He looks like he’d like some lipstick, too.” She’s quite taken with Dex, which is surprising given the fact that both she and my dad are very anti-farm animals in the house.
“That would look silly. Lipstick on a pig,” I say, scratching behind his ears. When I look up at myself in the mirror, my shoulders drop. In this light gray suit with the pink silk shirt underneath it, I have the exact same colouring as Dexter. My heart drops to my swollen toes. “Maybe I should change?”
The late alarm on my phone goes off, which means I should have left three minutes ago. I’ll just have to go dressed as Dexter. Making my way down the wide, long hall, I whisper, “Breathe, stay calm, and don’t fu—mess up.”
I ARRIVE FOUR MINUTES late for the interview, only to find that Arthur and Veronica are deep in discussion, and something he's just said must be absolutely hilarious because she's laughing and touching his arm at the same time. I glare at her fingers, wishing I had laser beam eyes as I walk toward them. It's not that I want to do major damage or anything. It's just that I would like to give her a gentle reminder that she's to keep her hands off my husband. Like, Shock Jogger gentle.
Arthur notices me first and strides over, then gives me a light kiss on the cheek. "There you are. I was just about to come look for you."
"Sorry I'm late. Getting ready took a bit longer than I thought it might."
"Well, you’re worth the wait, because you certainly look beautiful." Putting his hands on my tummy, he says, “Good morning, babies.”
He’s been talking to them so much lately—almost more than to me, actually. There’s a slight possibility he’s doing it to get them to move for his voice instead of Xav’s, but it’s still utterly enchanting. Reaching up, I pretend to straighten his already perfectly-in-place tie as a little sign to Veronica that says he's coming home with me when the interview’s over. I know I shouldn't stoop to such pettiness—I mean, it certainly isn’t very regal—and yet, here I am doing it. Because matching crowns or not, sometimes a woman has to claim her territory. And if said woman is completely bloated, is wearing a suit that matches her pet pig, and is feeling rather insecure at the moment, not-so-subtle displays of possessiveness should be tolerated.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Not really, but we’ll have to do it anyway, won’t we?”
“I’m afraid so,” he says. “Oh! I was thinking we should have Troy bring Dexter by to lighten things up a bit.”
I shake my head vigorously. “No, very bad idea. He’s...got awful gas today.”
“Poor little guy. I wonder if it’s the Jalapeño Doritos he got into last night.”
“I’m sure that’s it. You probably shouldn’t leave those on the coffee table.”
“Princess Tessa!” Veronica says, gliding toward me. She's giving me that look that says, ‘Oh my, how did you get so big so fast?’ Her nose is wrinkled up, and her smile doesn't quite reach her wide eyes. She's dressed in a short red dress with colour blocking to allow her tiny waist to look even smaller. We give eac
h other a cool greeting, then one of the show's producers calls her over to discuss something. This gives me and Arthur another moment to talk privately.
"Are you okay?" Arthur asks as he reaches up and massages the little spot between my eyebrows, which I didn't realize was crinkled together until just this moment.
“Never better.” I nod and smile. There's no way I'm going to admit to him how insecure I feel. "Just a little nervous. I've heard from everyone from my mother to Dylan and Nikki this morning, and it appears as though no one has the confidence that I'm going to be able to pull off this interview without making a fool of myself."
Arthur wraps his arms around me and says, "Oh, nonsense. You're going to be brilliant."
"Well, if I am, it'll be a first."
"I didn't fall in love with some stiff royal version of a Stepford wife. I fell for you because you're truly yourself all the time...which is a good thing."
Just when my heart is about to melt, he gives me that little smirk, then says, "Besides, it's a bit of an adrenaline rush doing public appearances with you. Forget base jumping; I love the thrill of not knowing what you're going to say or do next."
ARTHUR AND I SIT ON the love seat together, holding hands, while Veronica sits on a chair angled toward us. She starts with congratulating us on the upcoming birth of our child, even though very clearly she isn’t the slightest bit happy for us.
"There have been some hints of scandal, however, surrounding the conception. After the announcement of the due date, a reporter at The Chronicle used a reverse conception date calculator and determined that you, Prince Arthur, were in France for the G-20 summit whilst Tessa was here in Valcourt on the day of conception."
I open my mouth to let her have it, but Arthur squeezes my hand gently and says, "Well, that type of speculation is uncalled for, insulting, and quite frankly, irresponsible journalism. These online calculators tend to have a large margin of error, and there is absolutely no need to question the circumstances because Tessa and I are very much in love and are starting our family together on the basis of a solid foundation."
Veronica shifts uncomfortably in her chair and crosses those long, thin legs of hers, then moves along to the next point. She turns to me with a steady gaze and in her smooth voice says, "Princess Tessa, you’ve also come under the gun recently for your very sudden weight gain, which must be very hard for you, indeed. Unfavorable comparisons have been drawn between you and the Duchess of Cambridge, and a rendering of you on your due date prepared by a forensic artist suggests that you will be measuring the size of a fifty-three-week pregnant woman by then. Fifty-three weeks, as you know, is more than a year. It's further been suggested that you're not setting a very good example for the young women by allowing yourself to have what could be considered a very unhealthy pregnancy. Have the cravings been getting to you, or perhaps it's the stress of royal life?"
Arthur clears his throat. When he speaks, his tone has a very deliberate edge to it. "Veronica, I’ve always considered ABNC to be a friend to my family, but you need to know that if you want this interview to continue, I’d suggest you put a stop to this line of questioning, and now.”
Veronica sputters a bit, giving Arthur a window to say more. “For far too long, women have been subject to the most horrific body-shaming. What’s happening to my wife is another disturbing example of that. Tessa's pregnancy has had some complications, but she’s ever mindful of the need for a healthy pregnancy, and as such, she's made every effort to ensure things will progress safely."
Veronica does not seem at all embarrassed by the line of questioning and, in fact, doubles down on what she’s suggested. "But certainly, the proof is visible."
Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but this time I squeeze his hand. "There is a very good reason for how quickly I’ve gotten as big as I am. Arthur and I have been waiting for this interview to make our announcement, so why don't we just let the cat out of the bag?" I smile over at him, pretending that being questioned about how fat I've become during an internationally-televised interview isn't one of the most humiliating moments my life. "We're delighted to announce that we’re expecting twins."
Gasps are heard from around the room as Veronica and several staff members take in the news.
Veronica's mouth hangs open for a second, and then she gives us a big, phony smile. "How wonderful! Twins!" Tilting her head in what can only be described as a completely condescending manner, Veronica says, "Be honest. Thrilled or terrified?"
I say, "A little of both, actually.”
Arthur nods in agreement. "I, for one, am thrilled to be welcoming not one, but two little Langdons to the world. Although I’m not the one who has to carry them and go through the labour part.”
“Indeed,” Veronica says, “Oh my, I just realized that whichever baby is born first is going to be the heir to the throne.”
“Yes, I’ve been telling the babies they’ll have to race to get out of there because a few minutes difference will forever change their fates,” Arthur says with a chuckle.
Veronica laughs as though it’s the funniest comment ever made. Her face grows serious, and she says, "Princess Tessa. Let’s talk nannies. You recently denounced the use of nannies. Now that you’re having two babies, are you feeling a bit of regret in that regard?”
“I wouldn’t say I denounced the use of nannies; I merely said it wasn’t for us.”
“But now that you’re having twins, are you still sticking with that?”
“Yes. Definitely. My brother and sister-in-law have a set of twins, so I’ve learned so much watching them. Arthur and I agree on the importance of the parent-child bond, which requires you to be there at every turn to build trust. We’ll be there no matter what, whether it be 2 o'clock in the morning or one in the afternoon.”
"Except when it comes to dirty nappies," Arthur says with a chuckle.
"Indeed," Veronica says with a laugh. “You’ll want to farm that bit out, won’t you?”
“No, I won’t,” I answer. “Changing nappies is a prime bonding moment. There’s a lot of eye contact between caregiver and child, it’s a time to talk or sing to them.”
Veronica stares at me for a moment as though I’ve just said I’m going to fry up the placenta and eat it on tortilla chips, then looks at the camera. “There you have it, folks. As the next generation of royals is brought into the world, we’re sure to see many more examples of modern parenting. Thank you to Prince Arthur and Princess Tessa for your time today. Giles Bigly will be live tomorrow as we meet with the royal accountant for a look at the books. Hopefully, no surprises there.”
“None, I’m sure,” Arthur says smoothly. “Thank you for having us on today and giving us the chance to share our exciting news.”
TWENTY
Some Havarti With That Whine?
Arthur
Well, that couldn't have gone any worse, could it? My wife’s fidelity was questioned, then she was body-shamed on national television by who I now see is a rather nasty person. I’m sorry I ever fancied Veronica’s legs at all. Immediately following the interview, I had to rush off before I could check that Tessa’s okay, so now I’ve been worrying, even though in several text conversations, she’s assured me she’s fine. Angry, but fine.
The rest of my day was spent going from meeting to meeting as we prepare for the upcoming Earth Summit. If I allow myself to think about everything that’s going on right now, it’s rather overwhelming. Not only is the new security system proving to be a real nightmare to install, requiring the entire palace to be rewired and costing an amount of money that would make my wife faint if she knew, there’s been such a backlash to the child endangerment check requests, I think I may have to abandon it for guests. I do understand the babies will never be alone with a guest of the palace and will never be without a bodyguard, but still. I hate to lose on something like this.
Not to mention the fact that the total lack of sex is a bit jarring to the system. I don't want to complain because I k
now Tessa's got it much worse than me, but let me just say that going from having sex constantly in a variety of inventive positions and places to having absolutely no sex at all for the past several months is a bit of a...letdown.
Then to get really personal for a moment here, because I know you don't mind, Tessa’s new look with regards to her ability to fill out her blouses is rather alluring. I find myself thinking about those new, fabulously full tatas morning, noon, and night. The crap part is I likely won’t be able to get my hands on them at all until they're back to their regular size.
Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely not complaining about her normal size—her curves have always delighted my senses—but these new breasts are spectacular in a way in which I have never known (and am likely never to get to know personally).
So now I'm in the sexually frustrated loop of being able to look but not touch, followed by feeling rather pervy at my new fixation. Yesterday, I almost thought I had a shot at some fooling around, but it turned out that when Tessa asked me for a back rub after her shower, she really literally meant a back rub, full stop. As soon as I had a little thumb on some side boob, the whole thing was put to a halt (rather abruptly, I might add). Not that I blame her, as she described that she feels like an out-of-control hormone-filled balloon. I can only imagine how confusing and awkward that would feel. My already considerable empathy for what women go through to bring the next generation into the world is growing steadily along at the same rate as my wife's chest.
But still...they just look so inviting, you know? So pillowy soft.
Damn. Is it really nine p.m. already? I’ve completely missed dinner with Tessa again. I get up from my desk and stride toward the door, only to have it open before I can get to it.
Gran comes in. “Thought I’d catch you here.”
“I was just on my way out.”
“This’ll only take a minute.” She walks over to my liquor cart and pours herself a sip of Scotch. “I watched that horrible interview today, and I figured you’d be too thick to cancel the rest of your day and look after your wife. I see I was right.”
The Royal Delivery Page 16