Arthur

Email from Lance Devonshire, Head Gardener, Valcourt Palace

Dear Prince Arthur,

I hope you won’t mind that I’m writing. I don’t mean any disrespect toward you, the rest of the royal family, or your in-laws. I do need to ask a favour, though. Would it be possible to ask your father-in-law to stop coming by to critique the staff’s work with regards to groundskeeping?

If you’re unhappy with our work, we will endeavour to improve in any way you see fit. However, Mr. Sharpe has been by with some very strong opinions for us several times per week since he moved into the palace. Some of the staff are threatening to quit, should he keep it up.

Please accept my deepest apologies for making the request. I know this puts you in an awkward position, but I felt it important to let you know that the situation has become quite dire. I’d hate to lose our very skilled, long-time employees over this.

Yours in faith and servitude,

Lance

Oh, bugger.

***

I’VE BEEN IN NEW YORK for exactly twenty-one hours, and I’m already wishing I were on the plane home. I still have another three days here, including the last remaining two hours in what has already been a very long and somewhat frustrating day at the U.N. Headquarters. I’m tired, lonely, and I miss my wife. I was barely home for two days from Switzerland when I had to leave again.

How is it possible to miss someone this much? It’s like I’ve had a piece of my heart surgically removed, leaving a gaping hole. Oh, my, I am getting somewhat whiny, aren’t I?

It’ll be evening for her, so I know she’ll be trying to stay awake whilst watching the telly right now. I excuse myself from the mind-numbing meeting, saying I’ll return in a few minutes. Hurrying down the hall, I find the well-appointed men’s room and have a seat on the white leather couch. Pulling my mobile out of my pocket, I text her: Still awake?

Tessa: Just woke up from my pre-bedtime nap. How’s the Big Apple?

Me: Lonely because you’re not here.

Tessa: Aww. Poor Arthur. Are you looking forward to seeing Chaz tonight?

Me: Yes, it’ll be nice to catch up, as long as his awful wife doesn’t decide to join us.

Tessa: But it would make for better stories when you get home, I’m sure.

Me: Well, if it would entertain you, then I’ll hope she shows up.

Tessa: Oooh! If she does go, secretly record the dinner for me.

Me: I’ll see what I can do. How’re you doing?

Tessa: Good. Spent the afternoon with my parents while my dad painted the nursery.

Me: Christ. How’d you survive that?

Tessa: They were really great, actually. Very helpful and we even had a few laughs.

Me:  Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind about having them there because if you do, I might have to stay in NYC.

Tessa: God, no. Don’t worry about that. What about Clara for a girl?

Me: Hmm. Never dated a Clara. Throw it on the list.

***

AS SOON AS I FINISH up at the U.N. for the day, I hop in the back of the Escalade rental and head for dinner with my old schoolmate/best friend, Chaz Williams. He fell in love with an American supermodel/tyrant, married her, then moved to New York several years ago. His wife and Tessa couldn’t be more different. Not the gorgeous part—Tessa’s obviously very beautiful—but as far as Chaz’s wife is a total nightmare and Tessa’s basically perfect.

But enough about Janica. Chaz and I rarely see each other anymore, so as the limo crawls through Manhattan rush hour, I’m starting to feel rather excited (especially because he texted that his wife has to stay home because the nanny forgot she was supposed to stay late and has to go work her second job. Hmm...how much aren’t they paying her for her to require two jobs?)

Anyway, Chaz is my only friend who is married with children, so I’m hoping to get a little advice from him about the whole sex after children thing. I figure if I take what he says, then multiply by twenty, that's likely going to give me an accurate portrait of my future (on account of the fact that my wife is twenty times better than his, give or take).

Ollie and I step into The Century Club, a very posh gentlemen-only establishment (not to be confused with a gentleman’s club, in which strippers twirl around poles). The smell of cigars, leather, and cognac fills my nose. A young woman in a black dress offers to take our jackets, but we both decline. Looking past her, I see Chaz standing at the bar, talking up the female bartender, who looks thoroughly bored. Poor Chaz—charisma never was his strong suit. He spots me out of the corner of his eye and hurries to greet me. We exchange man-hugs, then have a couple of scotches at the bar whilst we wait for our table.

Once we’re seated and we’ve ordered the surf ‘n turf—a real man’s meal, as the server put it—I decide to approach the topic of marital relations. “So, Chaz, how’s married life?”

"Pretty decent, for a change of pace. Janica wants a mummy lift, so she has been extra nice to me lately, if you get my drift."

"Well, good for you." No, not good for him. He should leave the dragon lady as soon as possible and take the children with him.

"How are you managing?”

“Oh, great. Excellent. Couldn’t be better. Very excited. Thrilled to be having two babies instead of just the one. It’s really most...efficient.”

“Brilliant, really. Was that planned, then?”

“Christ, no. Total surprise.”

“And how is Tessa feeling?”

“She’s a real trooper, that one. Bearing all of it with grace and composure, as she does everything.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I do have one question for you, actually. As my closest friend and someone who’s been through this all before...”

“Happy to help however I can,” he says, signaling the server for another round of scotches.

“Thanks. You’re a true friend. So, um, it’s about the umm, marital relations bit, to be honest. I’m not complaining, mind you. I don’t want you to get me wrong. I’m very happy, indeed, overall...”

“Of course.”

“Yes, good. I’m just wondering if you know how long it usually takes before...that bit resumes again. Not that it matters in the least, mind you,” I say quickly. “I mean, poor Tessa’s going through so much that this whole sex thing is just more of an afterthought, really. Doesn’t make a bit of difference to me.”

“No, none, I’m sure,” he says, nodding. “Who needs it to be happy?”

“Exactly. We can busy ourselves with higher pursuits, certainly.”

“Of course,” he says.

We’re interrupted when our drinks arrive, along with a basket of warm rolls.

“Mmm. You simply must try one,” Chaz says. “These are the best sourdough rolls I’ve ever had.” He lifts the cloth napkin off the basket, and steam rises into the air.

We each take one, and it nearly burns my fingers as I break off a piece and butter it. “Yes, no, I’m not thinking about it for now, obviously.”

“What for now?” Chaz asks, stuffing a large bite of the bun in his mouth.

“Umm. Sex.”

“Oh, right, yes.”

“Poor girl’s been told she needs to go on a bit of a bed rest starting at week twenty-eight of her pregnancy to ensure she doesn’t go into labour too early, so I’m definitely not talking about now. Or anytime soon. Obviously, I feel quite bad for her. She’s going through so much, what with the hormones and how physically uncomfortable she is...”

“Oh, yes, it’s quite a lot that these poor women have to go through, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. And the media has been particularly harsh with her, I have to say.”

“I saw that,” he says, buttering another hunk of bun. “They should be ashamed of how they’ve treated her.”

“Agreed. It’s been just awful,” I say. “I am wondering, though...”

“How long it took before I got sex again?"

"If it's not too personal." Nothing is too personal with Chaz. He’s never even heard of the concept of TMI.

"Well, I may not be the best person to ask since my wife doesn’t generally like me all that much, but yours seems nice enough."

"Yes, Tessa's a real peach. Maybe not quite so much lately, but that's totally understandable."

"Perfectly normal. I can't even imagine carrying one baby, let alone twins.”

“Me either,” I say, starting to feel a bit irritated at how long it’s taking to get an answer.

"Well, after our first was born, Janica had absolutely no interest in sex until...let me think...oh, well...I guess it was when she wanted to have a second child. So, two years and a bit.”

“Oh. I see. And after that?”

“After Jaxson was born, she showed no interest in sex until she decided she wanted to get a mummy lift."

"And forgive me for forgetting. Jaxson is..."

"Six."

"I see."

"You're regretting having asked, aren't you?"

"A little bit. Yes." I pick up my glass of scotch and tip it back, letting it pour down my throat.

"Not to worry. Our situations are totally different. First of all, I really don't believe Tessa married you for your money,” Chaz says, letting go of this little fact rather freely.

I don't know if I should be impressed or filled with pity. He's not wrong, but for him to know it and to remain in the situation is a rather surprising choice. He's not the best-looking bloke, but he is smart and kind and funny as all hell. There are lots of women out there who would love a man like him. Unfortunately, he decided to go for supermodel hot instead of a good life partner.

He continues with his list of why I shouldn’t worry. “Not to mention that your wife, as far as I can tell, is madly in love with you. So, I imagine once the babies are born and she's had a little time to recover, things should return to normal."

"Right, well that’s what I'm hoping." I pause for a second, then ask, “By normal, do you mean everything goes back to normal or... "

Now that I’ve started down this road, I’m wishing I could back up. I’m asking him to dish on his wife’s lady bits. Not appropriate, Arthur. This is exactly why Google was invented.

"Oh, yes, that. It bounces back. Don't worry. Especially if she keeps up with her Kegels."

"Although, I don't really feel like it would be appropriate for me to remind her to keep that up."

"Good God, no. You can never say a word, even if her you-know-what ends up so stretched out, you could park a bicycle in there."

I won't recount the rest of the conversation for you because things got horrifyingly graphic from there. I now know everything I didn’t want to about episiotomies and hemorrhoids. Now that I think of it, it probably was a mistake to have brought up the topic. I didn’t really learn anything that will help me at all, and now I’m terrified of what could happen.

As I lay in bed in my hotel suite pondering my nonexistent and future sex life, I tell myself it'll all turn out okay. He's right. Tessa and I are very much in love, which is really all you need. The Beatles were right about that.