SIXTEEN
Blaming the Bodyguard
Arthur
Iwake to the soundof sniffling and light streaming in through the window. It hurts my eyes even before I open them. I shouldnothave drank that much, no matter how badly my wife insulted everyone I know. The sniffling forces me to open my eyes in spite of the fact that my brain is screaming at me to keep my lids down. Rubbing my face with one hand, I look around until I spot the source of the noise—Tessa, who’s sitting on the armchair by the window with her phone in hand. Shit, is she crying?
"What's wrong, Tess?"
"I knew you were upset, but I didn't realize it wasthisbad."
"What do you mean? I'm not upset. Hungover, maybe..."
I sit up, finding I need a moment for my pounding head to adjust to an upright position, only I don’t have a moment because I have to go from passed out to on top of my game in under two seconds.
"How can you say you're not upset with me? You've canceled all but one of our prenatal appointments,” she says, holding out her phone so I can see her calendar.
Oh fuck. I've completely forgotten about the whole ‘break it to her gently’ thing.
"I haven’t canceled them. I just won't be able to be there, but I promise it’s got nothing to do with you."
“It seems like an awfully big coincidence.”
I massage my temples and close my eyes for a moment. “Do you really think I’d do something like that out of spite?”
“Well, no. I suppose not. It’s just...I don’t know what to think. I know I’ve screwed up very badly, and...well...how could younotbe insulted and angry?”
“Do I love that you said any of that in a public setting? Not really. But I’m not angry. Not at you, anyway. My father, yes. But you, I have nothing but sympathy for.”
“What’s your father got to do with it?”
“Yesterday—late in the afternoon—I found out he’s decided to extend his gallivanting for another few months, which means all of his responsibilities have fallen onto my lap again. So, yet another link in the chain of paternal disappointments for me, which now means I’m unable to be there for you and the baby.” I sigh and give her a look I hope shows how badly I feel. “I asked Vincent to hold off on changing the schedule until this morning to give me time to talk to you about it."
"But then I went and screwed everything up, and we didn't really talk at all," Tessa says, her shoulders slumping.
"It's not your fault. If anything, it's that big muscle-head we've hired to watch you."
"It's not Xavier's fault.I'mthe one who opened my big mouth."
"Well, it’shis jobto make sure no one is violating your privacy, and yesterday, he failed miserably in that regard."
"I really wish you wouldn't take it out on him. He honestly does go above and beyond to take care of me."
I get up and start for the washroom, mumbling, "He most certainly does."
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I just need some Advil.”
“You’re not actually feeling threatened by Xavier.”
“Obviously not,” I say, turning back to her. “But you have to admit, he doesn’t know where the line is. His job is to protect you, not nag you about your health and buy you maternity magazines and...and...play with your nieces and nephews and talk gardening with your parents. He’s even got himself an invite to the table for Sunday suppers, for God’s sake.”
Tessa’s eyebrows lower in confusion. “My mum’s the one who insisted on that, and as you know from personal experience, my parents are awfully hard to say no to. And if you’ll recall, you and I have been more than willing to let him help babysit the kids so we can duck out and fool around from time to time.”
An image of us fooling around distracts me from my irritation for a brief second. Oh dear, I am sex-starved, aren’t I? I shake my head a little, trying to focus on the matter at hand.
“Yes, I’ll agree he’s very helpful, but he’s not beingpaidto be helpful. He’s paid—and very well at that—to know his place.”
