NINETEEN
The Cowntess of Camembert
Tessa - 20 Weeks
Today is the kickoffof the week I’ve been dreading since the first week of September last year. It’s the third annual welcoming of the media (inadvertently started by me during my Royal Watchdog days). This is the week in which Valcourt Palace opens the doors and the books for journalists from around the globe who have an interest in ‘getting the inside scoop’ on Avonian royal life. In principle, it’s a wonderful concept—it allows the citizens of the kingdom the opportunity to get to know their royal family, as well as to have an in-depth and transparent look into how their taxes are used and what the family does for Avonians and the realms. Yet, I still wish we could stop doing it.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Tessa, how could you dread something you used to champion day and night? A little hypocritical, no?’
Well, yes and no. The reason for my uneasiness has nothing to do with wanting to be more private and everything to do with my inability to withstand this sort of scrutiny without effing up completely; oh, I remembered to say ‘effing’ instead of ‘fucking’. Yay, me! I’m really getting better at the not swearing...oh, although I did just say ‘fuck’ in a congratulatory way. Shit...oh, bollocks, there I go again.
Anyway, back to the dread. Yesterday, some arse over atThe Daily Sun Timesdubbed me the “Cowntess of Camembert” in response to that awful salon video of me. Countess with a ‘w’.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Very clever.
They really went all out in their cruel description, putting side-by-side photos of me next to Kate, who is due any day now and looks as svelte as ever. The caption under the photos reads, “Their Princess. Our Princess.ReallyArthur?”
Yeah, so that stung. I’m not going to lie—I may have shed a tear or two. Or five hundred over a bucket of Choco Loco ice cream.
Anyway, we’ll be taking this opportunity to announce that the reason I look like a ‘Cowntess’ is that it’s a two-for-one special here in Tessa’s womb. Hopefully, that will shut them all up. I doubt it, though.
I’m now putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup before I go to the Gold Drawing Room for an interview with the gorgeous and smooth-voiced Veronica Platt. I’ve got on a medium grey suit with a pencil skirt and jacket, paired with a light pink silk dress shirt. My hair is down, framing my new chubby cheeks. My mobile rings, and I glance down to see it’s Nikki.
Swiping the screen, I say, “What’s up, Nikki?”
“Just wanted to wish you good luck for the interview.”
“Why would I need luck? I’m going to rock it, like I do every other social occasion—with dignity and decorum.”
We both laugh for a few seconds, then I stop when I realize how sad that is.
Nikki stops about half a minute after me, then says, “No, but seriously. I figured you might need a little pep talk since you and Arthur had that fight about Veronica’s legs.”
“Well, I’d forgotten about that, but I suppose I could use a bit of an ego boost, since I have to peer over my ever-expanding belly to even see my shins.”
“Thought so. Remember, this belly thing is just temporary. It’s going to get really big, but then we can zip off to Costa Rica for a tuck when you’re all done having babies. I thought you could bring me as your caregiver. Plus, I’d like to have some lipo under my chin. I’m getting serious ‘tech neck.’”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Good stuff. Now, back to Veronica. I know she’s hot and never seems to get fazed no matter what happens, but don’t let that fool you. Underneath it all, she’s seething with jealousy that you bagged Arthur and she didn’t.”
She’s not wrong about that. Veronica hates my guts. The closest thing to a smile I’ve ever gotten from her is a sneer. Plus, she does stare longingly at Arthur when she thinks no one is looking. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had an Arthur collage wall at home in her bedroom. Creepy bitch.
“Good point, Nik. Thanks.”
“Just hold Arthur’s hand through the interview and try to say as little as possible.”
“Wow. Those are the exact words Dylan the PR genius said yesterday when we had our prep meeting,” I say, feeling more than a little annoyed. “Am I really that bad at talking to the press?”
Nikki dodges my question altogether, coming back with, “You’re going to do great today, Tess. I can feel it.”
There’s a knock at the door, and I glance at the clock, realizing it’s time for me to get going and I’m still lipstick-less. “Gotta run, Nikki. They’re calling for me.”
“Okay, remember, you’re an amazing woman, and you’ve got loads of people who love you—including Arthur, who may lust after Veronica’s legs but lovesyourwhole body, or will again very soon after the babies are born.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up and call out, “Come in.”
