By the time I walk into the kitchen, she’s sitting at the island, eating toast and staring at her phone. "I can't believe how much you're going to be away."
"I know. It's honestly the last thing I want, but I can't really see any way around it at this point. Maybe your mum or Arabella could go with you to some of your appointments?"
"Oh Christ, no. Not my mum. She'll drive me loopy if she comes with me."
"Arabella, then?"
Shrugging one shoulder, Tessa says, "Maybe. But I don't know how comfortable she’d be with that. It is a lot of rather personal medical stuff."
"Oh right,” I say, remembering about the menstrual cycle stuff. “Nikki, then? She certainly doesn’t have any boundaries."
Tessa gives me a dirty look, then says, "I'll figure it out. You don't need to fix this."
"I'd like to if I could. It's really the least I can do since I'll be abandoning you."
Tears fill her eyes, and I realize I've said exactly the wrong thing. I walk over to her, placing my hands on her cheeks. "That came out wrong. I'm not really abandoning you."
"I know, it's just that I’m going to really miss you. And I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed with everything we need to do to prepare for the baby."
"Like what?" I ask, walking over to the coffee maker, checking that everything’s set up and pushing the ‘brew’ button.
"There’s a mile-long list. We need to paint and redecorate the nursery, choose the best car seat, and figure out which push-chairs we want—we’ll need one for travelling and one for jogging, of course, because I really do want to get my body back as soon as possible. And push-chairs aren’t exactly easy to choose. Do you even know all the factors you need to consider to find the right one?”
Turning to her, I say, “No, but based on the expression on your face right now, I’m assuming there are a lot more than one would think.”
“It is honestly one of the most complicated purchases we’re ever going to make.” She shakes her head, then continues with her list. “Also, I need a birth plan, which it turns out is a highly political decision that will offend any number of special interest groups, no matter what I go with. We’re going to have to baby-proof the entire palace—which is not going to be quick or easy, I can tell you. Do you know how many outlets there are in this place? Thousands. Literally thousands. It’s insane. Not to mention, we haven't even started discussing baby names yet, and that's not exactly something you can do in an hour. It takes weeks of brainstorming and careful thought just to come up with one name, and everyone in your family seems to need four or five, so that’s going to take ages! Plus, we’ll be naming a future monarch, and I have no idea how we do that. We probably need an approved list from Parliament or something..."
"Well, no. We don’t, actually, but I can see why you’re panicking a little. But all of these are things we can decide together, even if I’m away. We could divide the list or talk on Skype and sort things out a few at a time...” I smile reassuringly.
Tessa bites her bottom lip, then seems to relax a little. “All right. I guess we’ll figure out a way to get it all done.”
“Of course we will. We’re reasonably intelligent people,” I say with a nod. “How about this? We take on some of it every Sunday, and we find a weekend—very soon—to go up to Didsbury, just the two of us, so we can make plans, shop online for baby stuff, and get everything straightened away without interruption."
Tessa gives me a small smile, so I know I'm heading in the right direction. Nodding, she says, “That sounds lovely."
“Good. It’s settled, then. We'll go away for a weekend of very productive baby preparations. Just you and me.” And by that, I mean we’re leaving Xavier here. “It’ll be terrific.”
By the time I leave for my office, there’s a spring in my step, in spite of my lingering headache. For the first time in a long time, I’ve managed to figure out a way to make my wife happy. Now if I can just keep her that way...
SEVENTEEN
Ultrasound Equipment Made by Wellbits
Arthur - 17 Weeks
Email from Dylan Sinclair to Prince Arthur, Princess Tessa
RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Dear Prince Arthur and Princess Tessa,
I understand you will be having the ultrasound this week and would absolutely love to see you use this as an opportunity to generate excitement about the baby. As such, I'm proposing a gender reveal extravaganza in which you announce on live television the gender of the next heir to the throne. We could have a camera crew in the ultrasound room for maximum interest. Should you decide to go that way, it would be best if we could have the ultrasound done during prime time, and I'll need two days to make arrangements with the folks at ABNC. Let me know ASAP so I can pull this all together for you.
Don't say no to this brilliant opportunity. You won’t regret it.
Ciao,
Dylan
EMAIL FROM PRINCE ARTHUR to Princess Tessa
RE: RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Hard no on this crap, yes? BTW, you look beautiful today.
A
Email from Princess Tessa to Princess Arthur
RE: RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Yes to the hard no. Do you want to find out if it’s a boy or a girl? And how do you know what I look like? You were out the door before I got up this morning.
T
Email from Prince Arthur to Princess Tessa
RE: RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Because you’re absolutely beautiful every day so it stands to reason that today would be no different. And I don’t think I want to know. Call me old-fashioned, but I like the idea of being surprised. You?
I’ll write the coke-head back.
A
Email from Princess Tessa to Princess Arthur
RE:RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Best. Husband. Ever.
T
P.S. Ditto on the surprise thing. Finding out early feels like peeking at your presents two weeks before Christmas—exciting for half a second, followed by regret that you spoiled all your own fun.
Email from Prince Arthur to Dylan Sinclair, cc: Princess Tessa
RE: RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Dear Dylan,
Thank you for your most excellent idea for revealing the gender of the baby on live television. Whilst I can see how useful this would be in generating interest, we’re going to go in a different direction—reveal nothing in an attempt to add to the mystery and anticipation.
Best regards,
Prince Arthur
EMAIL FROM DYLAN SINCLAIR to Prince Arthur, Princess Tessa
RE: RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Brilliant! LOVE IT! Mystery + Anticipation = Media Frenzy
WE’RE SITTING IN THE waiting room at the ultrasound clinic at my wife’s insistence. I could very easily have gotten an ultrasound machine brought into the palace and had a tech on call around the clock, but Tessa said no. Apparently, she’s taking this whole ‘raise a normal child’ thing to the next level now that it appears to be helping her gain some new fans around the kingdom.
When I suggested we opt for a much more convenient option than booking an appointment and waiting for our turn, she said, “Arthur, we must start as we mean to go on. If we take a privileged approach to the pregnancy, we certainly won’t stop after the baby comes, and pretty soon we’ll have a privileged brat on our hands.”
And since this is very likely the only appointment I’ll be able to attend, and my desire to keep her happy is much stronger than my need to save time, I now find myself squished between Tessa and an enormously pregnant woman in a waiting room filled with expectant mothers and their out-of-control toddlers. We’ve been here for almost an hour now, having spent the first twenty minutes being gawked at like zoo animals and asked for photos by women who want the goods on Tessa’s pregnancy.
Luckily, Xavier opted to join us in the waiting room and is not only pleasing to the f
emale eye but is a wealth of pregnancy knowledge (I know, I can’t believe I’m glad he’s here either, but desperate times and all that...). He’s somehow managed to shift their focus away from Tessa and onto the topic of prenatal health and wellness. Not sure how he came by all this knowledge, but at the moment he’s talking about the top five ways to induce labour, and the ladies are absolutely riveted. I’d have never thought it possible that hearing the words ‘nipple’ and ‘massage’ in the same sentence would actually cause Excalibur to go into hiding, but somehow this conversation has managed it.
Some of the more experienced mums are taking turns sharing their birthing horror stories, and good Lord, they could give Margaret Atwood a run for her money when it comes to scaring the shit out of people. For some reason, these ladies seem to delight in terrifying the ‘almost mums’ under the guise of being helpful. But I’m onto them. They love the power trip of having been there, done that, got the baby to prove it. Female humans can be so much crueler than their male counterparts. Well, not really obviously, but in a surprisingly different way.
By the time it’s finally our turn, not only is Tessa’s face stuck in a horrified position that I hope isn’t permanent, but I’m pretty sure Excalibur will never recover from what we’ve just heard.
But never mind that, the important thing is that we’ll finally get a look at the baby so we can make sure he or she is healthy and on track. I never thought I’d find any of this so nerve-wracking, but it really and truly is. If I’m honest, I’m a little bit terrified that something’s wrong, even though logically I know there’s no cause for concern.
“It’ll be nice to have this over with, won’t it?” I ask Tessa.
“Very.”
“Then we can stop worrying and just enjoy parenthood,” I say with a firm nod.
The receptionist, who is leading us to the ultrasound room, snorts when I say that, then apologizes. What exactly was funny about that?
We’re led into a tiny, dark room, and Tessa’s told to undo her pants and lay down on the table. I sit on the stool and decide to take a look at the equipment. The screen is turned on. Hmm. Tempting.
Rolling the chair over to the ultrasound machine, I select the long, skinny wand, pick it up, and snicker. “Tessa, doesn’t this look a lot like a vibrator?”
The door swings open, spilling light in from the hallway. A middle-aged woman dressed in bright purple scrubs comes in. “Put that down. That’s an endocavity probe. It gets inserted in things like vaginas and anuses.”
I drop it immediately, causing it to fall to the floor as I go in search of a bottle of hand sanitizer.
The woman sighs and picks it up. “It’s not dirty...well, it wasn’t anyway. We wrap it before each use.”
“Excellent. Of course,” I say. “I’m Arthur.”
She stares at me for a second, and I’m waiting for her to do the whole ‘Oh, my God, it’s you!’ thing, but she doesn’t do it. She just sighs. “I’m Tonya, whose job was so much easier before they started allowing the husbands in the room.”
“Righto. Nice to meet you, Tonya,” I say, giving her my best princely smile. I can win her over, I’m sure.
She takes the stool, leaving me nowhere to sit as she starts to type into the computer and barks out, “Name.”
“Tessa Langdon.”
“Spell the last name.”
Seriously? I could literally throw a stone from the front of this building and hit the river named for my family.
Tessa spells it for her and tries to smile, but Tonya isn’t about to be won over by either of us.
“First day of your last period.”
Why must everyone know that? Isn’t it a bit personal?
I busy myself on my phone for a minute, trying not to think about menstrual cycles. Tonya turns the screen so we can’t see and squirts a lot of a clear liquid on Tessa’s tummy, then chooses a different probe (thank God) to use.
“I suppose you’ll want a video so you can delight your relatives,” she says, her tone full of disgust.
“Yes, please,” I say.
“Okay, I’ll turn the camera on.”
I walk behind her so I can look at the screen, but she levels me with a dirty look.
“Please wait over there,” she says, pointing to the wall.
I slump down a little and go stand beside Tessa’s head. Tessa gives me a sympathetic look, and I wink at her, then rest my hand on her shoulder. We wait silently, both of us staring at Tonya to see if we can read anything on her face about the health of the baby.
When I can’t take it anymore, I say, “So, Tonya, how’s everything look so far?”
“That’s not for me to say. I’m just a tech.”
“But all the right parts appear to be there? Oh, and by that, I don’t mean genitals—well, I hope they’re there, but we don’t want to know about it. I mean which ones—”
“—we prefer to be surprised,” Tessa says.
Tonya snorts a little at the word ‘surprised’ but neither answers nor looks up from the screen. She continues moving the probe and typing into the computer here and there.
Humph. This whole ‘do it like everyone else’ thing is for the birds. She ignores us completely for another fifteen minutes before she puts the probe down and stands. “I’ll be right back.” She scowls at me. “Don’t touch anything.”
When she opens the door, she says, “Oh, you better stock up on stretch mark cream. You’re having twins.”
Then she walks out, leaving us both with our mouths hanging open.
“What the fuck did she just say?” I ask.
“Did she say we’re having twins?”
“I think so. So that would be...”
“Two babies,” Tessa whispers.
“At the same time.”
“Nope. Nope,” Tessa says, quickly sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. “I did not sign up for that.”
“I think I need to sit down. My chest feels tight.” I lean on the bed with one elbow, bent at the waist.
“Let’s just get out of here. That woman is bat-shit crazy. There is no fucking way I’m having two babies. She’s...just wrong. Let’s go home, and we’ll hire that private ultrasound tech and get a proper picture of the one baby we’re having.”
I look up and stare at my wife.
She juts her chin out at me. “Get my coat. We’re leaving.”
“Darling, I don’t think we’re supposed to leave yet.” I suddenly feel lightheaded and find myself breathing too quickly.
“Well,” she says with a frustrated chuckle, “We’re certainly not staying here with that crazy woman who doesn’t know how to do her job.”
The door opens again, and in walks Tonya, carrying a paper bag. She thrusts it at me, and I take it, a wave of gratitude coming over me as I cover my mouth and nose and begin to breathe into it.
“I figured you’d be the type to hyperventilate.”
Tessa turns to her. “Yeah, we’re going to go now and get a second opinion since...” she gestures to the machine with both hands making wild circles, “...your equipment is obviously faulty. Like maybe a double exposure thing on a camera. I’m a photographer, so I’m familiar with such things.”
Tessa turns to me and snaps her fingers. “Arthur! Let’s go.”
Tonya shakes her head. “People tend to panic when they find out they’re having multiples. But look at it this way, it could have been triplets, so...”
Tessa holds up her finger. “I’m not having two babies, do you understand? There is no way I’m going to fit two human beings at the same time in here. No way!”
Tonya’s icy exterior seems to crack a bit under our panicking. Her expression softens. “Lay down. I’ll turn the screen so you can have a look at the babies.”
Tessa does as she’s told with a look of pure shock on her face.
Tonya turns the screen and puts more goop on Tessa’s belly, then we watch as the picture of two little tiny alien-like creatures appear before
our eyes. Something about seeing them there affects me in a way I never could have anticipated. I find myself tearing up in spite of their incredibly creepy little faces. I drop the bag to my side and reach for Tessa’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Tessa squeezes back and looks up at me, her eyes glistening.
I smile down at her. “This is really happening.”
“I guess so.”
We watch the two babies move around, snuggling into each other in the empty black space. When I finally find my voice, I say, “So, they’re both all right?”
“I’m not supposed to say, but everything looks like it’s on track for both babies,” Tanya says. “The due date based on their size is January seventh. Having multiples puts you into a high-risk pregnancy category, so you’ll need to take some precautions, but if you follow your doctor’s orders, there’s no reason things shouldn’t go smoothly enough.”
Smoothly enough? That’s not exactly comforting.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to pull yourselves together, but we’ll need the room soon.” With that, she gets up and leaves.
TO CALL THE RIDE HOME silent would be a gross understatement. No one says a word the entire time. Not Ben, not Ollie, not Xavier, and certainly not my wife. When we got out of the office, Xavier opened his mouth to speak but then quickly closed it when he saw the looks on our faces. Ben and Ollie had the exact same reaction when we got to the limo. I don’t exactly know what my face is doing because quite frankly, it’s numb, but Tessa’s face has an ashen, catatonic look.
When we’re just beginning to cross the bridge to the palace, Tessa bursts into tears, her shoulders shaking. I wrap one arm over her and pull her in for a hug.
“I can’t do this, Arthur! Do you know how enormous Nina got when she had Josh and Geoffrey? Like, huge! Terrifyingly huge.”
“Two babies?” asks Xavier, who’s sitting at the far end of the limo, pretending to read some magazine about smoothies. He puts it down and speaks into the cuff of his jacket. “It’s all right, guys, it’s not a birth defect. It’s twins.”
The Royal Delivery Page 13
