The Royals of Monterra: Royal Delivery (Kindle Worlds)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Those emails I had been getting from Sue Ellen? I was highlighting and underlining, finding anything I could to help me get this baby out. I printed half of them out and read them in bed, pen in hand, highlighter behind my ear. I called Sue Ellen almost every other day for more until Lemon found out and shut me down.

  Apparently she thought I was obsessing.

  It didn’t matter that I had the worst heartburn of my entire life, I started eating the spiciest foods I could shove into my body. Hot wings, peppers, Tabasco sauce, jalapenos, chili that made you gasp for air, and Cajun food that numbed your throat; I ate it all. Nico finally had to beg me to stop, and I never told him why I was torturing myself like this. (And it really was torture. So, so bad.) I just let my sweet husband think it was another one of those “weird pregnancy things,” and he liked it better that way.

  I was way more active than before, even with my sessions with Natalia. I was running up stairs, which was an awkward sight, as Rafe told me more than once. I jumped on a trampoline. That one lasted about five minutes before security and my sister-in-law freaked out. I attempted handstands, but my lack of upper body strength and complete off-centered-ness made that one just dumb. I ran, I walked, I did lunges, I did high knees, I had four more dance parties with the girls, I hula-hooped… but my favorite one was bouncing on the exercise ball. I did that daily. Repeatedly. I was going to bounce my baby out of me.

  Well, in theory, anyway.

  I had pineapple at every meal every day. I was so sick of pineapple after a week that I cried with every bite. Nico was forever running out to get me pizza and Chinese food, thinking my cravings had just taken a really bizarre turn. Tino made me chocolate labor cake, which I was not sick of after a week, and between that and ginger labor cookies, I was feeling fat and happy. And anxious because I expected my water to break at any moment.

  But of course, I had a tough kid, and nothing broke except my hidden and not-officially-outlawed scale.

  I did the natural remedies, going with primrose oils and raspberry leaf teas, herbal tinctures and black and blue cohosh, and went so far as to get acupuncture, though needles and I were not friends. I drew the line at laxatives, though. I mean, that was just wrong.

  Plus there was no way I could do that without Nico knowing something was up.

  Everything I read said castor oil. I read all of the stories and did some digging.

  No. Frakking. Way.

  Unless I got desperate.

  I wasn’t sure how much further that was from my current state, but I was sure I wasn’t desperate yet.

  One time, I even sneaked out and had my driver take me over every set of train tracks and cobblestone road I had mapped out in the city. That was painful on so many levels.

  But still, no water breaking, no contractions, not even a change in the kicks from my little guy. Just a grumpy driver and a very sore me.

  It wasn’t until I was bundled up and taking an afternoon stroll on the private grounds of the palace, walking along the curb with one foot up and one foot down that it all caught up with me. But not in the way I wanted.

  I had just switched sides when I heard, “Kat?”

  I glanced behind me and saw Nico in perfectly fitted casual clothes and leather jacket coming up the path. He looked thoroughly amused, and folded his arms, just watching me. “Bella, what are you doing?”

  I turned back to focus on my awkward straddling of the curb and even more awkward lopsided waddling. “Walking the curb.”

  “I see that,” he commented, and I could hear him smiling. “Why are you walking the curb? There is a perfectly good pathway, completely clear of the snow, just a few inches to your left.”

  “Yes, but I’ve already walked three miles on the regular path today,” I huffed, my breath making a faint cloud in the cold air.

  Nico said something harshly in Italian and was at my side in an instant, grabbing my arm. “Three miles? Kat, that is too much!”

  I sniffed. “Is not. It’s my usual amount for a Monday. And walking on the curb like this is good for my hips, and it’ll make the baby come faster.”

  I gasped and covered my mouth with my glove, turning a little to look at Nico.

  He stared at me, eyes wide, jaw slack, and his hold on my arm tightened perceptibly. “Kat, please don’t tell me you have been putting yourself, not to mention me, through this insanity just to get our baby to come early.”

  I felt my cheeks heat, even in the brisk winter air. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I won’t.”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled roughly. “Kat…”

  “If it makes you feel better, nothing is working,” I told him in a small voice, suddenly feeling like I was about to get yelled at and not looking forward to it at all.

  He laughed humorlessly. “Obviously.”

  I glanced down at my boots, not wanting to look at him, which was a bizarre sensation, as I always wanted to look at him just for the sheer pleasure it gave my eyes. But this was different. I felt exposed, as if my private concerns and actions were laid bare, where anybody could tell me how ridiculous and stupid and risky they were. When it was just me, I could justify it. I was my own best enabler.

  If someone else got involved… I was vulnerable.

  Nico’s hand cupped my chin and he tilted my face up, his blue eyes steady and alive as they stared into mine. “Sweetheart, why are you trying to get the baby to come now? You are almost a full month from delivering.”

  “Just three weeks,” I muttered defiantly.

  I saw the scold in his eyes and was grateful he wasn’t going to vocalize it. I knew Nico too well. He was just going to wait for me to explain myself.

  And because I was me and he was Nico, that always worked.

  “The doctor said I could go at any time,” I tried weakly.

  Nico half smiled and tapped my cheek, still holding my jaw. “Nice try. You know and I know that he said you are still carrying high and likely won’t deliver until close to your due date, if not beyond.”

  Gah. Beyond. The only perk of beyond would mean absolutely no chance of a Christmas baby. But that would also mean being pregnant for another eon of time.

  “Likely,” I pointed out. “Likely is not definitely. I could…”

  “Katerina.”

  I heaved a heavy sigh and dropped my head as much as I could while he held it steady. To my embarrassment, tears were suddenly burning in my eyes and fell before I could stop them.

  Nico brushed one away on each side. “Bella,” he murmured.

  “I’m so tired of being pregnant,” I whispered, my voice choked and hoarse. “I’m huge and uncomfortable and there’s pressure everywhere. Everything hurts all the time, I’m ungainly and awkward, even more than I usually am, and I just want to be done. I’ve been searching and searching, looking for ways to make the baby come just so I won’t be pregnant anymore. I’ve tried everything, and nothing is working. I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever and it’s never going to end. I can’t take it anymore, Nico. I just want to be done.”

  I was pulled into his arms and pressed against his chest. He held me almost painfully tight, and I needed that desperately. I buried my face into his coat, which, I faintly registered, smelled fantastic (Nico and leather was always a good combination) and I sighed into it.

  “You’re almost there, love,” he murmured into my ear. “You are so close, and you have been incredible this entire time. So strong and so poised. You’ve been perfect.”

  I snorted, despite the warm fuzzies caused by his presence. I had been nothing of the sort and he ought to know that.

  His arms squeezed tighter around me. “It’s not much longer. You can do this. But please, no more crazy attempts to make the baby come. He or she will come when they are ready.”

  “What if we’re not ready?” I mumbled.

  He laughed once and pulled back to look at me. “Then there is really no reason for you to try and speed things along.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, t
hen dusted them along my nose. “No more, Kat. Just relax and let it be.”

  I sighed a fluttering sigh and arched up to kiss his perfect mouth.

  Eventually he pulled away and cupped my cheek, smiling with all the adoration he possessed, which was a dizzying amount when confronted with it head on. “You’re not even enjoying the holiday season with all of this, are you?”

  To be perfectly honest, Christmas and I had been at odds, thanks to the anticipated D-Day. I’d almost forgotten that I loved this time of year. I’d done my shopping, of course, which meant my staff had done it since I rarely left the house anymore, but it was done.

  But I wasn’t enjoying it. I wasn’t enjoying anything.

  I smiled ruefully. “Oh yeah. I knew I forgot something.”

  Nico’s smile grew and he shook his head. “You are ridiculous. I am taking you inside and we are avoiding any discussion of how to make the baby come and only doing Christmas things. No more Pinterest, no more research, and no more Sue Ellen.”

  Well, that didn’t sound like fun. I was so uncomfortable that I had to do something about it, and despite his gentle commands to cease and desist, I still had more options to try. And there was always castor oil.

  But having my good-smelling, well-dressed, attentive, sweet, ridiculously handsome and desirable husband at hand and in a particularly caring mood, I had a much better idea.

  “Well,” I mused thoughtfully, “there is one trick I found that I haven’t tried yet.”

  Nico lifted his chin a little, suddenly suspicious. “And what is that?”

  I grinned slowly, seductively, and slid my hands up his chest to tangle in his cashmere scarf and pull him close, our noses grazing. His eyes instantly darkened and his smile looked positively wicked.

  “Come with me and find out,” I whispered.

  Impossibly, even that didn’t work. And believe you me, I tried. Days and days of trying. I think Nico was starting to feel a bit used, not that he was complaining.

  But seriously, this was ridiculous. Everything under the sun I could possibly do, I had done.

  Laxatives and castor oil aside.

  Nico let me keep my cake, which I was oh-so-grateful for, but that might have been self-preservation for his sake rather than soothing my concerns.

  I was being sneaky, going for way more subtle ways to try and encourage labor. Pedicures and massages, stupid tricks, and things I would never admit to in a million and three years if questioned.

  Nothing. Nix. Nil.

  It was like I wasn’t even pregnant, except for the fact that the kid moved around like he was already used to Dante’s club and he just had a private room inside me. I barely slept, which had nothing to do with Nico being, ah, husbandly, and I was getting to be more and more like a zombie around the palace.

  My staff put enough makeup and product on me that I still looked radiant and glowing, as I was still doing interviews and teleconferencing with my charity, all from the comfort of home, but I was fraying at the edges.

  Amidst all of this, Lemon and Dante had the christening for Eva, and I was honored to be a godmother. It was my last official public appearance, and I looked more fashionable for that event than I had for anything else up to that point, so the press went nuts over it.

  Points for me.

  Well, points for Violetta and Lemon, I guess. I rarely picked anything I wore anymore, lazy days and pajamas excepted.

  Eva was my little angel, and I was absolutely the favorite godparent. I cried at her christening, barely able to get the words out I needed to. Nico had thought that was hilarious and Rafe teased me about it endlessly, but I had seen them both wiping their eyes that day, so there was no excuse. I had looked like a leaky water balloon, in my opinion, but the press never said anything negative. I was glowing, I was radiant, and my outfit had been given one of those “get this look for cheaper” specials in the magazines.

  Not bad for the loser in Battle of the Babies.

  It didn’t cure my stress or take the edge off of my desperation, but it was a very brief diversion from the obsession.

  Now, however, the focus was on the holidays. The Christmas trees were going up and carols were being sung, Serafina was pretend ice skating all over the palace, and baby Eva was an elf or in a stocking most of the time.

  I didn’t even notice.

  I was fed up, finally, and during one of my scheduled nap times, I picked up my cell phone and dialed the one person I hadn’t tried yet.

  “Hello?”

  I smiled at the utterly polite and perfect British accent. “Hi, Caitlin. It’s… it’s Kat.”

  I heard a brief rustling on the other end. “Kat? Oh my goodness, did you have the baby?”

  I hiccupped on a surprise wash of tears. “No. Not yet.”

  “Oh…” she said faintly. “Oh, you’re miserable, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  She sighed softly and I can only imagine what was going through her mind. Here was the crazy and twenty-seven month pregnant queen of Monterra calling the future queen of England because she was tired of being pregnant. It was enough to make me faintly sick to my stomach and it had nothing to do with the nachos I had for lunch.

  “What can I do?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  I smiled and wiped at my almost permanently leaking eyes. “Help me get it out?”

  Caitlin laughed in surprise. “I don’t know what to tell you. My water broke with both of my children, and it was unexpected both times. Everything moved very, very quickly for me. I couldn’t even get an epidural, and I almost wish I had.”

  I frowned a little, curious despite my aversion against drugs for myself. “Almost?”

  She hummed another little laugh. “You’ll understand this later, but going fast had its advantages, and not having the epidural made it easy to function afterwards.”

  I thought back to Lemon’s delivery of Eva, and how difficult it had been for Lemon to convince the doctor to discharge her for home care. And she’d had some interesting side effects that she could laugh about now, but at the time had irritated her to no end.

  But that wouldn’t be a problem for me.

  Lucky.

  “So,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual, “how does one make the water break?”

  There was no sound on the other end of the line and I winced.

  “Kat, is your doctor telling you to do this? Are you late?”

  My wince grew and I full on hissed. “No, and no. I’m still almost three weeks out.”

  “Kat!”

  “I’m dying!” I told her. “It’s so long!”

  Caitlin sighed a very patient sounding sigh, which I could only assume she used on her children on a regular basis. “Kat, you do realize that once the baby is out, you have to take care of it, right? The crying in the middle of the night, eating around the clock, aching breasts when the feeding schedule is off, learning to do everything one handed because your other arm is always full, and no hint of the privacy you once had. That’s all coming.”

  I considered that, and I would be lying if I didn’t admit to hesitating a bit. But there was still a very valid point I needed to bring up.

  “But I won’t be pregnant anymore,” I reminded her.

  She burst out laughing and I joined in, wincing a little as baby reacted to the laughter.

  “Oh, Kat,” Caitlin sighed, still laughing. “You won’t be pregnant forever, though I know it feels like it now. Just enjoy the ending, all right? You’re probably wanting to nest like crazy. Give in. And don’t worry, the baby will come when the baby is ready to come.”

  “I think this child needs a lesson in obedience and promptness,” I muttered, making Caitlin laugh again.

  But I thought about what she said.

  Maybe she was right, maybe I just needed a distraction.

  There wasn’t much else to do to get ready for the baby, technically, but there were certainly some things I had been itching to do. Again. My finger
s clenched just at the thought of doing them, and I actually wanted to get out of bed.

  And Nico hadn’t said anything about stopping my ball bouncing routine, so there was that.

  And castor oil still loomed in the back of my mind.

  You never know.

  The return of nesting was a glorious thing.

  Nesting during Christmas time was even better.

  I reorganized the nursery with everything that had been added to it since my last nesting festival, and nobody seemed to mind my maneuvering in there. I moved everything. I couldn’t get the crib right, nothing seemed to look right about the rocker, and there were entirely too many stuffed animals.

  I stuffed half of them into bags for Nico to take to the hospital on Christmas.

  Eventually, I got the layout the way I wanted, only to decide that I wanted a Christmas tree in the nursery. Why not? It was Christmas and I would be spending a lot of time in that room when the baby came, so it deserved some special Christmas flare.

  My staff was on point with my demands, bringing in the perfect “nursery sized but still not skimpy” Christmas tree, and I had entirely too much fun going out and finding baby ornaments for the tree. I wasn’t technically supposed to be out and about this far into my pregnancy, but considering I never went anywhere without three security guys and they were used to my weirdness, it was fine. And everybody else was so focused on their own Christmas shopping and festivities that I really didn’t get that much attention. When I did, it was really sweet, and I actually enjoyed it.

  Serafina was obsessed with helping me. I didn’t take her out shopping with me, but when I came back, she was practically dancing around waiting to see what Christmas stuff I had brought back this time. We decorated the tree in the nursery at least three times, and each time got better than the last. We used some of the baby shower star decorations on it, and I almost cried at the cuteness.

  Once the nursery was decorated, we moved on to the rest of the palace.

  The thing with living in a palace is that there are professional decorators that come in on a regular basis, and for special occasions to decorate for that. The palace was already decorated for Christmas.