The Royal Delivery

by Melanie Summers

  Please don’t take this as a sign of disregard, but merely a lack of time coupled with a sense of confidence, which you’ve provided me with over these past few months. I’m going total Kim Kardashian on this. I’m going to own my normalness and encourage others to do the same until every woman would kill to be average.

  Best,

  Tessa

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Emasculating Novelty Wear, and Secret Fish Funerals

  Arthur - 24 Weeks

  "Hi, honey, I'm ho—"

  I stop when I see Tessa and Xavier standing in the living room in matching white T-shirts. Xavier is crouched down, talking to Tessa's stomach, which I have to say makes my blood simmer a little bit. He stands as soon as he sees me, looking a little awkward. Tessa rushes over to greet me with the big ‘we’ve been apart for three days’ kiss.

  "You're back! I've missed you."

  "I missed you, too." I glance from her to Xavier, wondering what the hell is going on.

  “You're probably wondering what's going on," Tessa says, taking my hand and pulling me toward the couch. "Watch this! It's the greatest thing ever."

  She places my hand on her belly, then looks at Xavier and says, "Okay. Do it."

  Xavier crouches down again and says, “Hello in there,” in his deep vibrato.

  Suddenly, I feel some sharp movement in her belly. It surprises me, and I move my hand back for a second, then laugh a little at myself for being taken off guard by the movements of my own unborn children. Tessa takes my hand and puts it back where it was, but now everything is perfectly still.

  "You won't believe this. The only time the babies move is when they hear Xavier's voice. It's the craziest thing ever. We've been doing this for almost twenty minutes now, and it literally works every time."

  Xavier grins at me, clearly thinking I'll be as excited about this game as they are. “It's true, Your Highness. I've no idea why, but it really works every time."

  As soon as he starts to talk, I feel the rippling again against my palm. It's thrilling, and at the same time I'm not exactly sure how to feel about it, given the fact that it's the bodyguard who’s managing to get this response from our babies.

  Tessa grins up at me. "You try it!"

  Feeling a little silly, I crouch down and say, "Hello, babies, Daddy’s home!"

  Tessa stands perfectly still, holding her breath while we wait. Nothing happens.

  "Try again, sir. Maybe lean a little closer this time." Xavier nods confidently at me.

  Determined to get a reaction, I lean so my mouth is about an inch away from the fabric of her shirt, then use a very loud tone to say, "Hello, are you awake in there?"

  Still nothing. Well, this is a humiliating way to be welcomed home from a trip. I straighten up, and when I look at Tessa, I can tell she knows how awkward this must be for me. Xavier crosses the room in two steps and picks up what I assume is another T-shirt off the coffee table, then presents it to me.

  Tessa grins and says, "Look, Xavier had these made for us. Isn’t it fun?"

  I stare at her chest for a moment and see that in bold purple letters, the words “EATING FOR THREE" are splashed across the front of her shirt. When I glance at Xavier, I see his shirt bears the words, “GUARDING FOR THREE.”

  He holds up my shirt, also purple font, but mine says, “WAITING FOR TWO."

  "Isn't it clever?" Tessa asks excitedly.

  "Very clever...and thoughtful, too. Thank you, Xavier.”

  "There’s a reason behind the shirts, Your Highness. I recently read an article about a ‘team concept’ pregnancy, the idea being to help the woman feel more at ease and optimistic about her upcoming labour. Several studies have shown a positive outlook and loads of support can make birth feel less painful and have fewer complications. I thought that since you and I are probably the ones who are around the princess the most, a fun uniform could make her feel like she’s not alone in this whole thing.”

  "They moved again!" Tessa says, laughing. "Can you believe this, Arthur? It's uncanny."

  "No. I really can't." I attempt a smile, but I'm sure it comes off as rather insincere because the last thing I want is for my kids to bond with my wife’s bodyguard instead of me. "Thank you for the T-shirts, Xavier. If you two don't mind, I think I'll go have a shower and get the airport smell off me." This is a lie, of course. I never step foot in an airport. My very clean jet (which has a shower) lands on a private runway, and I step off it and directly into the limo.

  Tessa doesn’t seem to notice that, though. She grins at me and says, "Oh, yes. After your shower, put your T-shirt on so we can do a group photo.”

  As I close the en suite door, I hear Tessa say, "Do it again, Xav!"

  Scowling at myself in the mirror, I mutter under my breath all kinds of things I won't repeat to you now because none of them are nice—not that I necessarily care about being nice, as you may have noticed. But petty and borderline insecure are a whole different thing for a man to admit to. I take my time in the shower, hoping the game of ‘bonding with the bodyguard’ will end before I dry off.

  By the time I'm out of the shower, I feel slightly calmer, if not a little sheepish about my overreaction. It's perfectly natural that Tessa would want to connect with the babies, and it doesn't really matter whose voice it is.

  Although, it would be much, much better if it were my voice instead of his.

  But no matter, I’m home for a whole week, so I'm going to make the most of it. By the time I leave for Barcelona, I'm sure my children will be as excited to hear my voice as they are to hear that muscle-bound buffoon’s.

  Oh, Christ. That wasn't very ‘I am feeling completely secure’, was it? But honestly, why does he get ‘guarding for three’ and I only get ‘waiting for two’? I mean, seriously, he's doing something manly—guarding the babies, whilst I am doing something that could not be more passive—waiting. How lame is a person who only waits for something? How about some credit for the fact that those babies are in there in the first place? I’m not sure how you’d put that on a T-shirt without being completely crass, but with some thought, I’m sure I could come up with something clever. ‘Aimed for one. Made Two.’ No, that’s dreadful. ‘Her Babies’ Daddy?’

  Oh forget it, Arthur. You’re not designing your own T-shirt.

  When I finish dressing in jeans and my new shirt, dinner is just being brought into our apartment. Lucky for me, Xavier is nowhere to be found. A lovely meal for two (well, technically four) has been set at the table. Tessa chats away, telling me about all of the online shopping she and her mother have been doing for clothing for the babies whilst I've been away. I try my best to concentrate on what she's saying, but my mind keeps returning to Xavier crouched in front of her. I stand and walk to the beverage centre for some wine, pouring myself a glass of red, then offering to get something for Tessa.

  "No, thanks. I'm fine with my disgusting glass of milk."

  On my way back to the table, I notice Chester swimming around in his bowl. I take a swig of wine, then walk over and pop a few flakes into his bowl.

  “He already ate today, Arthur."

  I wonder who fed him. Mr. No Neck? Oh, stop it, Arthur. That'll be enough of that. "He looked hungry."

  Tessa sighs, and when I turn back to the table, she’s shaking her head in mock irritation. "Honestly, the way you spoil that fish makes me concerned for how you're going to be with these babies."

  "I'm not going to be overly indulgent just because I won't let a poor, helpless fish starve to death.” Leaning down to Tessa’s belly, I say, “Not to worry, babies. Daddy won’t kill the fish, and he’s not going to spoil you either. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

  “He better, or Mum will be very cross with him in a very permanent way.”

  OH, FUCKITY FUCK.

  Chester is dead.

  Maybe not...maybe he’s just...oh no, he’s definitely dead.

  Belly up.

  Finito.

  Gone.

 
; Prince Arthur in the living room with the fish food.

  Death by fish flakes.

  Son of a bitch.

  Standing perfectly still for a moment, I listen for the sound of the shower. Still on.

  Dexter wanders over and stares at the bowl, then at me.

  “Oh, stop judging me. Like you could’ve predicted this would happen.”

  Bugger. Now what do I do? I’ve got a very pregnant wife who’s about to overreact in a most spectacular way when she finds out I’ve fed her fish to death.

  I chew on my thumbnail for a moment whilst I try to think of the best course of action. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s just before nine p.m. “I can fix this,” I tell Dexter.

  Hurrying to the kitchen, I grab a large spoon from the drawer and rush to Chester’s bowl, take a deep breath, then use it to pick up the fish. Holding one hand under the spoon, I make my way to one of the guest toilets and drop Chester into the bowl.

  Oh, this feels wrong.

  Very, very wrong.

  I should at least say a few words, but I also need to get on with this before Tessa finds me holding a secret funeral for her fish. Dexter has followed me into the bathroom and is sniffing the toilet whilst simultaneously looking up at me.

  “Seriously, Dex. Not now. She said very cross. Permanently. Remember that bit? I can’t have a permanently cross wife. I’ve gone long enough without sex to know I cannot do a life sentence.”

  I use one hand to make the sign of the cross over the bowl, then flush, saying, “Goodbye, old chap. Well done with the swimming around. You were truly a very athletic and talented little guy. You’ll be missed.”

  But not by Tessa.

  I drop the spoon into the bin, wash my hands, then creep across the apartment toward our bedroom, stopping to listen. Shower’s still on. Thank Christ for small miracles. Whipping my phone out of my pocket, I text Vincent. Emergency! I need a replacement Betta fish stat. Blue with a bit of purple on his fins.

  I tap my foot whilst I wait for a reply. A minute later, my phone buzzes. I take it you don’t want Princess Tessa to find out?

  Me: It would be a disaster if she did.

  Vincent: I’ll see if I can find a pet store that is still open at this hour.

  Me: Yes. Please. Name drop if necessary, but get me a fish as fast as possible.

  Vincent: Very good, sir. Back to you as soon as possible.

  By the time Tessa’s out of the shower, I’m sitting on the couch with two bowls of crisps and some ice cream set out on the coffee table. I smile up at her as she comes over in her cozy flannel jammies.

  “Thought you might like to watch an episode of Midsomer Murders and have a snack.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet of you.”

  Not really. The snacks and show are to distract from the empty fish bowl to your right.

  Shrugging modestly, I pat the couch cushion next to me. Tessa gives me a kiss, then snuggles up beside me with her bowl of ice cream. I turn on the show, knowing that as soon as she’s done eating, she’ll fall right to sleep.

  Oh, I am the devil. I am going straight to hell for this one.

  I keep my phone at my side, glancing at it every few minutes as the show progresses.

  “Who’s that guy again?” Tessa asks, pointing to the screen.

  “I think he’s the victim’s handyman.”

  “No, that was the older man with the limp.”

  “Right, sorry. Is he the killer, then?”

  “Well, we don’t know that yet. The show’s not even half over.” She finishes the ice cream and struggles to reach the coffee table, so I quickly take it and put it down for her.

  My phone buzzes, and I look down at it, but it’s just the final score on the Valcourt United game.

  “You all right? You seem a little distracted tonight.”

  “Just a work thing I’m waiting on. Nothing important. Here, cuddle up.” I gesture for her to lay her head on my shoulder.

  “You work too hard, sweetie. I worry about you sometimes,” Tessa says, snuggling herself to me.

  My gut churns with guilt, but it’s too late to change my mind. I’ve already flushed Chester; I can’t very well go back and get him. I rub her arm up and down methodically, hoping it will have a hypnotic effect.

  “Oh, that feels nice,” she says, yawning. “But if you keep that up, I’m going to fall asleep and miss the end.”

  That’s kind of the idea. “Not to worry, I’ll tell you who did it.”

  A few minutes later, she’s snoring away when my phone buzzes.

  Text from Vincent: Managed to get owner of Pet Life to open shop. Stand by for photos of possible options.

  Putting my phone on silent, I watch as the photos start coming. Holding the phone so Tessa won’t be able to see it should she wake up, I scroll through them, my heart pounding in my chest. Bollocks. None of them look quite right, and by the time I’ve looked at all the choices, I’ve completely forgotten what Chester looked like.

  Me: Damn. They all look the same to me.

  Vincent: Is that really a bad thing?

  Me: Good point. Take number three.

  Vincent: I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes.

  Me: You’re a life saver! Text me when you get here. I’ll meet you in the hall outside my apartment.

  Twenty minutes later, the show’s over. As soon as the closing credits start, Tessa wakes up. “Did I miss the end?”

  “Afraid so. The butler did it.”

  “I don’t remember a butler...” She sits up and yawns. “Sorry. I just cannot stay awake these days.”

  “Perfectly understandable. You’re making two people, so that’s bound to tire you out.” I stand and hold out my hand. “Here, I’ll help you to bed.”

  “You’re so good to me.” Tessa accepts my hand, and we start for the bedroom when my phone buzzes.

  “Oh, is that your work thing?” Tessa stops walking.

  “Yes, most likely.”

  “Just kiss me goodnight here. I don’t want to hold you up.”

  I lower my face to meet hers, feeling like a total cad as I bid her a good sleep. I then wait for her to shut the door to our bedroom before rushing to the front door. When I open it, I don’t see anyone, so I go out into the hall, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible.

  “Vincent?” I whisper. “Are you here?”

  He steps out from behind a suit of armor, holding the bag in his right hand. The expression on his face is the closest thing I’ve ever seen to disgust from him.

  “I know. You don’t have to say a word. It’s completely the wrong thing to do, and I feel just awful.”

  Vincent hands me the bag and pivots on his heel, then walks away without a word.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “See you tomorrow.”

  He keeps right on going, waving one hand in the air, and if I’m not mistaken, his middle finger may be higher than his others.

  Three minutes later, Chester the Second is exploring in his bowl, the Pet Life bag is deposited in the same garbage bin as the spoon, and I feel like a total shit. I watch him swim around for a few minutes, then, confident he’ll be all right in his new home, I shut off the light and go to bed.

  THE NEXT MORNING WHEN I get back from my workout, Tessa is standing in front of the bowl with a confused look on her face. “Arthur, when’s the last time Troy changed Chester’s water?”

  “Not sure, really. Is he overdue for a good cleaning?”

  “No. It looks clean. I don’t want to accuse Troy of anything, but something has definitely happened to Chester.”

  “What do you mean? He looks fine to me.” I walk over and squint.

  “Look closely.”

  Bending down, I watch the new fish swim around. “What? I can’t see anything.”

  “That’s not Chester.”

  Oh shit. I chuckle, trying to hide my shock. “What do you mean that’s not Chester?”

  “You really can’t see it? Chester was going gray arou
nd his face and was much bigger than this fish.”

  “I think you’ve been watching too many cozy mysteries.” I say with a light laugh. Tessa just stares at me.

  “What are you suggesting? That Troy killed him and tried to replace him without telling us?” I straighten up with an amused look on my face.

  “No, Troy would never do that.”

  “Exactly. Have you eaten breakfast yet? Shall I call down for some pancakes?”

  Tessa folds her arms over her belly and glares at me. “Troy would never do that. But you might.”

  “What—”

  Extending one arm, Tessa points to the kitchen counter, on which are the spoon and the Pet Life bag.

  Oh, fuck.

  “GOOD MORNING, VINCENT,” I say as I stop in front of his desk.

  “Your Highness,” Vincent says without making eye contact. He continues to tap away at his keyboard, looking thoroughly annoyed.

  “I...um...just wanted to thank you for your help last night. I know it was outside the scope of your duties, and I apologize for getting you involved in such an untoward act.”

  “Yes. I’d appreciate it if that was the last time you request my involvement in such misguided decisions.”

  “Won’t happen again, I promise.”

  “Excellent,” he says, picking up a pen and writing something on his calendar. “How long did it take her to figure it out?”

  “About a minute, I’d say. Maybe less.”

  “Ah, I see. And would this be because you’re not married to someone with the IQ of a turnip, sir?”

  “Pretty much,” I say, feeling utterly sheepish. “Turns out Chester was a geriatric fish, so his colours were fading, which I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Whereas the princess...”

  “Could tell immediately, yes,” I say with a little nod. “If you’d be willing to hear me out, I’d love to explain my reasoning at the time.”

  Sitting back in his chair, Vincent gives me a steely look. “I’d actually like to hear this.”

  “You’d be alone in that, I’m afraid,” I say, my mind flashing back to Tessa yelling over me when I tried to explain. “You see, it wasn’t really about the fish. It was about what I’m afraid is our incompatibility as far as parenting goes. Since Chester moved in, we’ve disagreed on how much to feed him. Recently, Tessa’s been drawing a comparison between what she perceives as me overfeeding Chester and her concerns that I’ll be overly indulgent with the babies.”