NINE
Pretty, Young Nannies and Krispy Kreme Contraband
Tessa - 12 Weeks
Have you ever beenseasick? Like, really, horribly seasick where you could not stop vomiting and you’re sure you’d welcome death, but then almost the instant you step foot onto solid ground, you feel completely better and can’t wipe the smile off your face?
The past month has been like that for me. I feel so absolutely fabulous, I want to run around shouting, “Hoorah for anti-nausea drugs!” I won’t, obviously, because it wouldn’t be very regal of me and would likely cause some sort of scandal, which would mean I’d have Dylan on my arse—and that’s something I’d rather avoid, thank you very much. So instead, I just wake up each morning, thrilled not to need to bring Buckety everywhere.
Although I do have to say the meds have a little bit of a surprising side effect I wasn’t expecting. I now find myself utterly famished and basically eat everything in sight (and then send for more food when everything that was in sight has been devoured).
I’m justifying my current eating habits based on the fact that I lost four pounds in the first several weeks of my pregnancy, so I need to make up for it. But if I’m to be honest, I’m a little worried that if I keep eating at this rate, I’ll balloon up beyond recognition, thus losing my shot at the cover of Hello! Magazine (not a cover I’d pose for, obviously—royals aren’t allowed to pose for magazine shoots. But secretly, between you and me and the gate post, I’ve been dreaming of going somewhere in a ball gown looking so fabulous that I’ll land the cover and be dubbed, ‘Duchess of Wellingbourne, Most Beautiful Pregnant Royal of All Time’).
Well, excluding Kate, obviously, who has that sewn up. Oh, and Meghan, I suppose, should she and Harry decide to have a family. She’ll be ab fab, I’m certain of it.
Maybe ‘Most Beautiful Pregnant Royal of Avonia in This Decade?’ That could be within my grasp—not that it matters. Looks really are irrelevant. But still, it would be a lovely ego boost. I stare down at my emerging bump, which has really come in fast now that I think of it. I may want to slow down on the baked goods. I’ve already gained fifteen pounds since seeing Dr. Dropp, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Besides, it’s really only eleven pounds, since I lost four during the first part of the pregnancy.
Yes, I’ll stop with all the baked goods binging.
Tomorrow morning.
I can’t very well stop this evening. Nikki’s coming over to gorge on Krispy Kreme Donuts and season two ofThe Crown. We’ve both watched it before, but a show this good requires double binging.
Plus, I’m hoping to be inspired on the whole ‘find a way to win the people over’ thing because so far I’m drawing a total blank. For the past few weeks, I’ve been managing to avoid Dylan (using my evasiveness skills from my previous life), but I’ll have to face her soon, and when I do, I better have a damn good plan to avoid teaming up with Awful Brooke and her Perfect Pregnant Group (or whatever the hell it’s called).
At just after eight o’clock, there’s a knock at the door. I hurry over, and when I answer it, Nikki’s standing there with a sly grin. She taps her oversized bag and winks.
Xavier, who’s just finishing his last security check of the hall before he goes home for the evening, sniffs the air. Damn, I was really hoping he’d be gone already because if he discovers the donuts, I'll never hear the end of it. Xavier's interest in my nutritional habits has become almost obsessive, with him spouting ‘helpful encouragement’ and bringing me healthy choices for the muscle, brain, and bone development of my unborn child.
I know I should be grateful, and I am...well, probably. Deep down. Very deep beneath my irritation. I mean, there’s only so much nagging a girl can take from her bodyguard when she’s ravenous for something salty, fatty, and/or sugary.
“Oh, are you off then, Xav?” I say quickly. “Have a great evening!”
He narrows his eyes a bit and looks at Nikki. “You’re not bringing donuts for Princess Tessa, I hope. I distinctly smell Krispy Kreme."
"Of course she isn’t," I sing out, yanking Nikki inside the apartment. "It’s a fancy new room spray housekeeping started using. I don’t much care for it so I’ll probably ask them to go back to the vanilla bean scent. Anyway, see you later!"
From the look on his face, he clearly isn't buying it. "I hope it’s not real donuts, Your Highness, because there are few things worse for a developing embryo than saturated fat and processed sugar."
“Oh, trust me, I haven’t forgotten our conversation from last week. Goodnight, Xavier, thanks for everything today!” I say as I shut the door, positively giddy to be one step nearer to my goal of scarfing down warm, deep-fried dough sprinkled with processed sugar.
The two of us hurry to the living room, where Nikki yanks the box out of her bag. I pick up one of the warm, delectable treats and jam the entire thing into my mouth, moaning in ecstasy as the sugar-laden fluffy confection melts on my tongue. As soon as my mouth isn't stuffed, but far before it's polite to speak, I say, "Oh my God, this is amazing. Quite possibly better than I remember sex to be."
Nikki looks horrified. "How long? And why the hell not?”
"Not since we found out about the pregnancy."
I help myself to another donut while Nikki gasps and sputters in shock. "That's like, well...it's...how far along are you?"
"Three months." Taking a more delicate bite this time, I say, "First, we were both worried about doing anything before the pregnancy could really take hold, you know? Then I got so sick that sex was most definitely the very last thing on my mind. As soon as I got that under control, I've just been so bloated and kind of...well, off...so I’m just not up for it."
Nikki stares at me for a second, then makes a ‘hmph’ sound. “Do you mind if I open a bottle of wine?”
"Of course not,” I say, leading her into the kitchen. “But you don’t have an opinion on this? I thought you’d be shocked.”
Nikki shrugs. "What’s to say? It all makes perfect sense to me."
A few minutes later, we’re settled on the couch. I have a sip of boring old water while Nikki pours a very nice Malbec into a glass. The mesmerizing opening credits start, and as gold is forming into a crown, my mind starts to wander to Dylan and the stupid charts and then to her rude comment about pretty young nannies, which causes my stomach to flip.
