TWENTY-THREE
Unexpected Gifts of Being Utterly Normal
Tessa
It’s early on Thursdayevening. Arthur’s in New York, and I’m enjoying a few hours of quiet. Oh, I don’t mean I’m glad Arthur’s away, because I definitely miss him. I’m just relieved that my parents have gone to babysit for Noah and Isa tonight, so there’s no chance they’re going to ‘pop by to visit their favourite neighbour, haha.’ Funny the first two dozen times, Dad.
Anyway, the pop-bys would be fine if it weren’t: a) the moment I’m finally set up on the couch with the comfort snacks required by the babies; and, b) at the same time the Daily Cricket Recap comes on, which means my father takes over the telly while my mum talks nonstop about my niece Tabitha, who has ‘gotten in with the wrong crowd and is suddenly wearing knee-high boots, of all things. And they’re blackleather. With laces all the way to the top! Where did my little sweet granddaughter go?’.
I mean, honestly, it’s a pair of boots. Let’s get over it already. She’s thirteen, for God’s sake. My mum should be glad she’s not vaping or giving blowies behind the bleachers, like half the girls in seventh year these days.
I flick on the telly and start channel surfing while I let my Choco Loco ice cream warm up a bit—I’ve taken to enjoying it in almost liquid form. But not to worry about the wait because I have a bag of crisps to eat in the meantime.
A knock at the doors has me scowling. Xavier pokes his head in, and when he sees what I’m about to eat, his face falls.
My cheeks heat up with shame, and I slide the bowl of crisps onto the couch next to me. I don’t know why I should feel so worried about disappointing my bodyguard, but I do.
“I thought you’d gone home already.”
“I just finished my last set of rounds. Can I get you a healthy snack before I go?”
Grrr. That’s it. I’m saying something. “No, thanks. You know, you really don’t have to worry about what I eat, Xavier,” I say in a harsh tone. “It’s not actually part of your...” My voice trails off, and I’m immediately filled with remorse.
“Job?” he says, finishing my sentence for me.
Fiddling with the hem of my sleeve, I say, “Yes. I don’t want to be rude or something, but sometimes it’s just a bit...much.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to people I care about.” He looks shocked after the words come out of his mouth. “I don’t mean likethat. It’s just that...I...developed a bad habit of giving fatherly advice at a very early age. When my father died, I took it upon myself to fill that role and obviously haven’t figured out how to shut it off. I’ll do my best to stop, though.”
Well, there goes my ability to be irritated with him. Now I feel horribly sorry for him and guilty for being so annoyed and never bothering to ask him about his life. I knew he has two younger sisters, but not much else.
“Oh. I’m really sorry, Xav. I had no idea.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry—sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong,” he says. “You’re my employer, not one of my little sisters. What you eat is none of my business.”
I shake my head. “No, you shouldn’t feel bad. I’m lucky to have someone like you to watch over me—so much nicer than some cold guard who’s just putting in time.”
“I’m definitely not just putting in time, Princess Tessa,” Xavier says. “You and Prince Arthur, and your parents, have been so good to me. Your well-being matters to me. Having said that, I should probably stop nagging you so much.”
“I appreciate that you care, Xavier, but I’d also love it if you could dial it back to about half.” I stare into his eyes for a second, suddenly understanding how lonely he must be—spending his life silently standing nearby, basically being ignored all day, waiting for some danger that likely will never come. “How old were you when you lost your father?”
“Nine."
I sigh, imagining him as a much smaller version of himself. “That must have been awful.”
He shrugs and glances at the floor, then back at me. “At least I remember him. My sisters were four and two at the time.” Clearing his throat, he says, “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your evening. You should get off your feet...if you want, that is.”
I grin at him. “I do want to.AndI should. Good night, Xav,” I say with a sad smile. “And thank you...for everything.”
“You’re most welcome.”
When he leaves, I sit back down, feeling sad. His life is devoted to us, which really leaves him with not much in the end—employers instead of a family. I stare at the television screen for a minute. What if we make Xavier part of our family? The kind of addition you choose, like Nikki or Grace next door for my mum. As far as big brothers go, he’s so much freaking better than the ones I got saddled with biologically.
I pick up my crisps and start channel surfing.
Oh, is that...?
Shit, it’s Brooke, back on ABNC. I turn up the volume and put down the remote.
