Surprise Packages

by Layla Valentine

  My eyes dart to Alex. “Good things, I hope?”

  It’s impossible to tell, under Enzo’s bushy mustache, whether he’s smiling or not. His eyes give nothing away.

  But his wife has none of his subtlety. “This is the American movie star?” She nudges her husband out of the way and takes my hand. “We’re so pleased to meet you, dear.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, ma’am,” I manage taken aback. “And no, I’m not a movie star. I just have a television role.”

  She waves a hand at that. “I have seen you on your show, of course. Oh, you must call me Giovanna. Look at your lovely hair. But please, sit down. I know your feet must hurt; when I was carrying my Lauro…”

  She chatters on as Alex helps me into my seat and the butlers emerge from the kitchen to place the first course before us. The lid is lifted and I inhale warm cheese and fresh bread. Alex picks up a piece of bread and dips it into his cheese.

  “Fondue is my uncle’s secret indulgence,” he says, leaning over. “He’s celebrating tonight. This is good.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes. If he wasn’t happy to be hosting us, he’d have served small portions of something that would have us out of here quickly, not something we’d savor.”

  I dip the bread in the cheese and pop it in my mouth. It’s hot and delicious.

  “I’ve never tasted such fresh bread.”

  “His boulanger makes it daily. How do you think he got so fat?” Alex grins.

  “Boulanger?”

  “Bread cook.”

  “He has his own bread cook?”

  “Uncle Enzo likes a good meal.”

  “What’s that you two are talking about?” Enzo asks, and my spine stiffens a little. Have I offended him? “Do you like the cheese course, Miss Steadman?”

  “Very much, sir, thank you.”

  His mustache twitches. “She’s a polite one,” he says to Alex. “The politest American I’ve ever met, for certain. Ever since Lauro moved over to the States, his manners have been going downhill. That wife of his means well, but she doesn’t have the same upbringing, and their children might as well be zoo animals.”

  “Enzo,” Giovanna chides. “That’s your son’s family you’re talking about.”

  He shakes his head. “When she’s right, she’s right, is she not? And God knows I love them all. But you, Miss Steadman, you have the right grace about you.” He nods. “She’ll do well in court, Alessandro.”

  It’s hard to believe what I’m hearing. Did I just win Uncle Enzo’s approval?

  Alex smiles at me across the table and gives a little nod, as if he heard my question, as if he wants to let me know that I’ve done well. I’ve made him proud. And if Enzo Gosar approves of me, that must mean he welcomes my children and plans to support their eventual reign. It means that instead of growing up with an uncle who resents them, they’ll grow up with one who loves them and wants to help them succeed.

  I help myself to another bite of fondue. This really is the best cheese I’ve ever had in my life.

  Chapter 22

  “Your uncle doesn’t think much of Americans, does he?” I ask Alex after dinner.

  The two of us are walking hand in hand through the gardens behind the old stone house. It’s like another world back here, fragrant with the aroma of olive and lemon trees, and I feel very far away from the stress of the dinner.

  “Not very much, no,” Alex chuckles. “I hope you weren’t offended.”

  “I wasn’t, but what was that about?”

  “It’s nothing very serious,” Alex says. “His oldest son, my cousin Lauro, went to live in America. He actually went there for college, and while he was there, he fell in love with one of his classmates. I don’t think Enzo ever recovered from the shock.”

  “Why was that a shock?” I ask.

  “Because Lauro was supposed to be a prince of Avaran, and instead he’s in New Jersey married to a kindergarten teacher.” Alex shrugs. “I can never predict what my uncle will choose to be upset about or who his feelings of ill use will target. But he doesn’t seem to resent you at all, does he? That’s something.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” I agree. “He didn’t seem to mind me a bit, unless he’s much more subtle than I’m giving him credit for.”

  Alex shakes his head. “If he’d had an issue with you, you would have known about it. He was being genuine when he said you had manners, and I think he likes that about you. I think he’ll probably rub it in Lauro’s face the first time the two of you meet…”

  “Oh, no,” I say, anxious. “I don’t want that. I want Lauro to like me.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Alex smiles. “Lauro’s used to the way his father is. He won’t blame you if something like that happens.”

  I nod, trying to feel reassured by Alex’s steady, calm presence. “Your uncle and your father didn’t have much to say to each other either.”

  “There are old disagreements there,” Alex says. “Enzo doesn’t blame Father for assuming the throne, but I think he believed he’d be able to give counsel, to help guide the running of the country. After all, he’d been groomed his whole life to be a ruler, and Father didn’t have the same preparation. But Father had different priorities than Enzo, and he ignored a lot of his brother’s advice.”

  “And now Enzo’s mad about it?”

  “Probably more hurt than mad,” Alex says with a small frown. “His pride is wounded. But there isn’t much he can do about it now unless he wants to sulk forever.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” I agree. I lift my hands over my head and stretch. It feels good to be moving around.

  Alex is watching me anxiously. “Are you in pain? Are you tired? Maybe we should go back to the house.”

  “No, Alex, I’m fine.”

  “Seriously. We could have lemonade made for you. You know, they pick the lemons right here in the orchard and squeeze them fresh every day. It’s very good. And you probably shouldn’t be spending this much time on your feet anyway.”

  “Yes I should,” I object. “My doctor said it was a good idea for me to get some exercise. That’s the doctor you hired, I might add, the one you said was the best in all of Avaran.”

  Alex looks doubtful. “He said it was okay for you to do a lot of walking around?”

  “I haven’t done a lot of walking around,” I point out. “The house is just a few yards over that way. And it’s good for me to get a little exercise, Alex. It’s good for the babies.”

  “That’s what the doctor said?”

  “That’s what he said. I promise.”

  Alex allows a smile onto his face. “You must think I’m completely neurotic.”

  “I think you’re concerned, which is a quality I’m more than happy to see in the father of my children.” I smile up at him. “Believe me, it doesn’t bother me at all that you want to make sure they’re well taken care of.”

  “Not just them,” he says. “It’s you, too, Erica. I worry about you. I want to make sure nothing happens to you.”

  “I’m almost at the end of this pregnancy,” I point out. “Two weeks from now, we’ll have our babies.”

  “I can’t wait,” he says.

  “Have you thought about names?” I ask him.

  He laughs. “I thought you’d never ask! I’ve been thinking about names ever since I found out there was a baby.”

  I swat his arm. “You never told me that.”

  “Well, once you decided you didn’t want to find out the sex of the babies until they were born, it seemed like there wasn’t much point in speculating,” he says. “But of course I’ve thought about it. I can’t help but think about it, any more than I can help picturing them. God, I hope they look like you.”

  “No way,” I object. “I at least want them to have your eyes. A little girl with your eyes…can you even imagine how beautiful she’d be?”

  Alex wraps an arm around my shoulders. “As long as they’re healthy and happy, I’ll be more than
satisfied. That’s all that really matters.”

  “So what names have you been thinking of?” I ask him as we follow the stone path of the garden into a little clearing ringed with sturdy-looking benches. I make for one of them, and Alex helps me to take a seat. “They should have Avaranian names, right? Names the people of this country are going to be familiar with?”

  “I think that’s best,” Alex agrees. He leans back, bracing the palms of his hands on the stone of the bench, gazing up at the stars. “I wish we knew if they were boys or girls!”

  “So impatient,” I say. “Have you always been like this? Unable to wait for anything?”

  “I can wait for things.”

  “They’ll be here in two weeks, and then you’ll know. Enjoy the anticipation.”

  He nods. Alex doesn’t agree with my decision to wait to find out the children’s sexes, but he respects it. I’m the mother, he says, and I should be allowed to make that choice. I don’t necessarily agree that my voice has to be the dominant one in that decision, but the way he defers to me makes me feel honored and special.

  “I’ve thought of some old family names,” he says. “Vito for a boy, Marianna for a girl.”

  “Who were Vito and Marianna?”

  “My great-grandparents on my mother’s side,” he says. “It’s always strange to me that my father’s side of the family is so well remembered, such a strong lineage, and my mother’s side is basically lost to history. Bringing them forward would mean something to me.”

  “I can understand that,” I say, thinking about my own parents and how they’re never mentioned in any of the press about Royal Blue, or about Alex and me. It feels strange that the entire world cares about us and no one cares about the people who are most important to me. It feels like an oversight.

  Suddenly I wish I could name the babies after my own parents, bring their names into the spotlight a little and help them be remembered as a part of history. But I know our first instinct on the matter is right. The children should have Avaranian names.

  I feel a bit of tension in my back and shift on the bench, adjusting my position and trying to find and stretch the muscle that’s causing pain. Beside me, Alex seems to sense my discomfort.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah, just something…ow.”

  “What is it?” he asks, brow furrowed, his eyes filled with concern.

  “It’s nothing,” I assure him. “A little back spasm, that’s all.”

  “All right.” Alex gets to his feet. “I really think it’s time we got you back to the house.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “I can hear a fountain. I want to see it.”

  “You can see the fountain anytime.”

  He braces me, hands under my elbows, and lifts. It’s the method we’ve developed in the last few weeks for getting me on my feet in public, when it’s not appropriate for me to roll and contort my body and grunt my way upright.

  I rise, not protesting, because I do want to see that fountain. I’m ready to defy him and keep moving, but as soon as my feet are under me the pain sharpens and I’m hit with a burst of it so sharp that my vision whites out for a moment.

  “Erica!”

  I feel Alex’s arm around me, hard against my back. I’m about to tell him to be gentle when the world tilts and I realize he’s holding me upright. It’s not Alex putting that pressure on me, it’s gravity.

  The pain tears through me again. I force my eyes to focus and look up at Alex. He’s staring down at me, an expression of panic etched into his face. I’ve never seen him look afraid like this.

  “What’s wrong?” he begs.

  “Something hurts.” I cling to his arm and my vision blurs as pain radiates through me. “The babies, Alex, the babies…”

  “What about the babies?” He sounds frantic. His hands are moving over me now, one pausing on my forehead to check for fever, one moving to my belly to feel for any movement or sign from our babies, an arm now sliding around my back to hold me upright. “What’s wrong with them? What’s going on?”

  And I know what’s going on, even though it can’t be what’s going on, even though it’s too soon for this and totally not how we planned it. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I’m frightened and overwhelmed and at the home of Duke Enzo, of all people—why did we have to come here tonight? Why couldn’t we have just stayed home?

  I look up at Alex, doubling over a bit as another wave of pain takes me. “It’s happening,” I gasp. “The babies are coming now.”

  He shakes his head vigorously. “No. No, they’re supposed to be born in two weeks. It’s what we planned. It’s the plan.”

  He sounds so stunned, so ready to argue the point, and I want to yell at him and kiss him at the same time because I love him so much and yet how can he think this is something that can be argued with? He can’t tell our babies to wait. They’re coming now.

  “We need to get to the hospital,” I tell him. “Oh, God, Alex, this really hurts.”

  That spurs him. “Okay,” he says. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, Erica. Let’s get back into the house. And then we’ll have someone drive us.”

  I’m so relieved that he’s not arguing that we should send for the private doctors. The birthing suite we planned to use is all set up in the palace, but we’re not at the palace now, and the last thing I want is to give birth on Enzo Gosar’s living room floor. I want a hospital, with doctors and drugs and the reassuring voices of nurses coming and going in their clinical scrubs. I want to be in a place where the strange and painful things that are happening to my body are seen as standard, everyday events.

  The walk back to the house seems to take forever, even though it would ordinarily take a matter of minutes. Every few feet, it seems, I’m stopping, my knees weak with pain.

  I’m lightheaded, unable to focus clearly on much of what’s going on around me. I’m aware of the intense pain, yes—can’t help but notice that—and of Alex’s voice, penetrating the fog of agony. The fear has gone now. He’s steady, stable, sure.

  And I know he’s just putting it on. I know he’s being brave for my sake, because he was terrified just a few minutes ago and nothing has changed since then. I know it’s an act, but he plays his part so well that I’m buying it completely. The confidence in his voice fills me with strength. Everything is going to be fine. We’re just going to go up to the house, and then we’ll drive to the hospital, and then everything will be fine.

  Alex leads me through the back door and into the reception room at the rear of the house, which opens onto the parlor where everyone is enjoying after-dinner drinks. There’s a commotion as we enter the room. Queen Filippa jumps to her feet and hurries to my side.

  “Alessandro, my goodness, what’s wrong with her? She’s gone pale!”

  “She’s in labor,” Alex says, and another twist of agony drives away any embarrassment I might have felt.

  The family all jump to their feet, and Queen Filippa helps Alex guide me over to the couch. It doesn’t feel better to be off my feet. I feel like I should be doing something, like there’s some kind of movement that would ease the pain I’m feeling.

  Alex smooths my hair back. “We need to take her to the hospital,” he says. “Can someone drive us? I want to stay with her.”

  But Giovanna shakes her head. “It’s too late for that, Alex. This is happening fast. I don’t think she’s going to make it to the hospital.”

  “I have to go to a hospital!” I protest. “What are you talking about—” but I’m cut off by the sharpest pain yet. It makes me cry out and sit up a bit on the couch, and Alex grabs my shoulders and looks up at his mother for help.

  Queen Filippa kneels beside me.

  “It’s all right, Erica,” she says quietly. “Giovanna’s right. We’re about an hour away for the hospital, and your contractions are too close together. I think this is going to happen right here.”

  “No…” This is unbelievable. This is horrifying. “The b
abies. They need a doctor.”

  Queen Filippa turns to her husband. “Run and call an ambulance,” she says. “Make sure they know it’s the royal babies. Tell them to get out here as soon as possible.” Then she addresses Alex. “You keep her calm,” she says. “Enzo, go get some ice for her to suck on. Giovanna, you help me.”

  “What are you going to do?” I ask, my voice wavering all over the place.

  “We’re going to deliver those babies,” Filippa says. She is firm, commanding, and her tone gives me some of my confidence back. “It’s going to be fine, Erica, you hear me? Your body was made to do this.”

  “But I need a doctor. We had a plan—”

  “I know,” she says, meeting my eyes. “I know you’re afraid. This is scary. It’s okay. Alex is here with you, and Giovanna and I are going to help you, and everything is going to be okay. Your babies are going to be born tonight. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  She’s so utterly in control. She’s masterful. I can’t help but trust her.

  “First things first,” Filippa says. “We need to get her down to the floor. Alex—”

  He doesn’t wait to be told. He takes me in his arms and lifts me—actually lifts me, heavy and cumbersome as I am with the weight of the twins—down from the couch to the floor. Giovanna passes him a pillow and he places it under my head. Kneeling behind me, he leans forward to plant a soft kiss on my forehead.

  “You’re doing great,” he says quietly. “You’re handling this like a champion. I’m so proud of you.”

  “I just want them to be okay,” I say. I feel like crying. “We had a plan, Alex.”

  “I know, my love. But none of this has gone according to plan. We didn’t plan for these babies, did we? We didn’t plan to fall in love.” He squeezes my hand. “The most beautiful things in my life have happened when my plans were disrupted.”

  I laugh shakily.

  “Won’t this make a good story someday?” he asks, his lips caressing my skin. “We’ll tell our children about the way they were born, here at Great Uncle Enzo’s house, because they were so ready to join the world they couldn’t wait even two more weeks.”