“Oh, hang on, Prince Arthur,” Dylan says. “I really should get started on preparations for the official announcement.”
“Yes, that’s fine. Go ahead, as long as no one finds out before I give the okay.”
“I’ll need the due date.”
“Certainly. According to her GP, January seventh, but that could change after she’s had her first obstetrician’s exam.” I turn to leave again, then hear, “Uh oh.”
“Uh oh?” I turn back and sigh.
“That’ll never do, sir,” Phillip says.
“Any why exactly?”
“Because according to this reverse conception calculator, this means you conceived on the anniversary of your great-grandfather, King Edmund the Third’s, death.” Phillip shakes his head, looking quite scandalized.
I pause for a moment. “It certainly wasn’t that day. That’s a day of great reverence and reflection for all Langdons, Tessa included.”
What a lot of horse shit. We definitely did it that day. At least twice. And to be honest, I have no idea what day we conceived. We had a lot of sex last month. And the month before. No condom sex has a certain allure that neither of us can seem to resist. It’s so...convenient, and well, just better. I’d never tellthesepeople, but we even did it here on the table. That could have been the time. Or that night in the shower. Or...oh, I should stop thinking about this, or Excalibur is going to wake up.
“Let’s just be vague about the due date, shall we? We could say sometime around the New Year.”
“They’ll want an official date. The media will need to have people on standby for a minimum of a month prior to and two weeks after whatever date we give them.”
“So, pick a date near there,” I say, walking toward the door. “Babies are rarely born exactly on time anyway, so it really shouldn’t matter.”
***
SO MUCH FOR MY NAP. As soon as I get back to our apartment, I find Tessa sitting on the couch, deep in conversation with Xavier, who has quickly become some sort of irritating pregnancy expert.
He sighs. “Should we try the ginger tea again?”
“No, I can’t bear it. Last time, I rejected it the second it hit my stomach.”
I walk over and sit down next to Tessa. “Still feeling lousy?”
“Yes,” Tessa says with a sigh.
Xavier shakes his head and makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “We’ve tried saltines, sour foods, exercise, rest, mint. Nothing is working. I’m running out of ideas.”
Which makes sense since he’s a bodyguard, and not a midwife.
“Maybe a good nap?” I suggest.
Tessa smiles and takes my hand in hers. “You’re the one who needs a nap. You look exhausted.”
“Me? Never. I’m full of energy today.”
Xavier leans in closer to look at me. “You sure, sir? Because you do look rather pale, and you’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”
“And yet, I’m fine.”
Something about my tone tells Xavier that now would be a good time to excuse himself. He stands and says that he’s going to run a security check on the halls surrounding our apartment. As soon as he leaves, I look around for something to do to prove how wide awake I am. Spotting Chester, our Betta fish, swimming around in his bowl, I stand and cross the room, putting a little extra spring in my step to show how ‘not tired’ I am. Plucking the bottle ofBetta Than the Bestfish food off the counter, I open it and drop a couple of pellets into the water.
"You're not feeding Chester again, are you?" Tessa asks.
"I can't let the poor lad swim around in circles without finding something to eat. It’s bad for his tiny self-esteem.”
“Arthur, seriously. He's going to get sick if we overfeed him. It isliterallythe worst thing you can do for a Betta fish.”
