The Un-Apparent Heir: A Royal Family Saga Romance (Spare Change Book 4)

27. Heir Presumptive

“Winslow!”

Ed heard Natalie’s voice ring from the bathroom at KP.

“Yes?” He called back.

“My waters broke as soon as I got out of the shower,” Natalie said.

“Shit! Really!” It wasn’t a bad response.

Ed flew into quick action, grabbing the hospital bag from the corner.

Natalie stood in the doorway, naked as a jaybird.

“Ed,” she said. “Can you please get me some clothing first? I am glad you are excited, but I don’t think I can go out like this.”

“It would be a treat,” Ed chuckled. “You’re beautiful.”

“Take a picture of me—with clothes on—for posterity. I’m never going to be this pregnant again. I want to remember it, weird as that sounds.”

“No, it’s a miracle. I get it.”

It was. They were one and done. Well, unless somehow they were doubly blessed by the impossible. In a way, Ed preferred it like this. They had their loud house full of cousins and he was too old to have more newborns. This felt right. They both wanted to shower this baby with all the love and affection they never expected they could. It was real now. In a matter of hours, they would be holding the baby they were told they could never have. It gave Ed chills.

Ed tossed Natalie some clothing and they ran for the car. He took one last photo of Natalie in all her pregnant glory. The two departed in a media frenzy. In late July, a press encampment reached a fever pitch. It was madness getting to the hospital. Natalie rang her parents, cool as a cucumber, only after she first rang Lucy, her point of contact. Natalie delegated all notifications to her most trusted general. There would be no whinging from grandparents.

They arrived at the hospital, where Natalie shunned all IVs and threw a massive fit about needles. She’d been so mum about her so-called “birth plan” except for with Lucy and Ed. Ed didn’t understand it until he witnessed the massive amount of unsolicited advice Natalie got from everyone. Needles terrified her. Even in the case of the epidural, she was certain she wanted to labour without medication.

“Ma’am it is honestly best to prepare like you might want an intervention,” a well-intentioned nurse said.

“I don’t want that. I want to have a birth in the tub and do nothing more.”

“Give me a second.” Ed pulled the nurse aside.

The nurse looked at him, sceptical.

“Look, she’s going to win the argument eventually,” Ed said. “It’s not like she’s some uneducated granola woman wanting to give birth in a field. She is terrified of needles. Even starting that IV is going to be a real pain. She wants to avoid it. If she needs the medication, fine. Address it then. But you’re tormenting her by bringing it up.”

The nurse looked confused.

“I know. People think she’s fearless. She usually is, but she’s terrified of needles. War hero afraid of needles doesn’t compute, I’ll grant you.”

“Understood, sir,” the nurse said. “Okay, I will mention this to the rest of the staff and we”ll proceed as if this will go off without drugs. But just be aware it will make the process harder.”

“I am aware, as is she. But she’s tough. Just very frightened of needles.”

The nurse left it. Natalie had enough of a problem sitting through the inevitable saline lock they put in her arm. She screamed. Everyone thought it was a contraction, but she was protesting the IV. Ed fought laughter at the ridiculousness. She could handle g-forces and control a million things at once. She didn’t flinch when a gun went off. Now? She was miserable and frightened.

“You’re okay now,” Ed brushed Natalie’s hair back. “It’s over. No more, alright?”

Natalie’s contractions, which started that morning, were stronger and closer. They checked her cervix, something painful, but manageable, and determined she was only four centimetres dilated. It was not what everyone wanted.

“Let’s take a walk,” a nurse said.

Their security detail protested.

“I’m acting head of state and I will tell you to ring the damn PM if you don’t bloody well like it,” Natalie barked.

She was not acting head of state anymore on paper, but her father’s second operation recovery was still underway, and he relied on her to do almost anything.

They let her through, girding their loins. Ed proceeded with her, knowing better than to intervene. She was the athlete on the edge of a major win. His job was to support her. Anything unhelpful would shatter her confidence and concentration.

After forty-five minutes of walking the corridors, Natalie’s contractions were right on top of one another. They took a beat.

Soon, the indelicate business of labouring in a birthing tub began. Ed gathered that birth was nothing like what television prepared him for. It was far less polished, much more sweaty, and nightmare-fuel. Watching Natalie shake in pain, sob, and shriek was torture. She looked miserable. Ed worried for another hour if she would survive.

Then, there was a sea change. She calmed, quieted, and became intensely focused. It was like Ed got before a race. She was close. Somehow, some way her body knew what it was doing. She settled. It was time.

With each passing moment and each push, Natalie climbed a mountain. She strained and cried a bit, but it wasn’t dramatic. It was controlled. She was an endurance athlete preserving her energy for the end. How she knew what to do, Ed didn’t know. It was primal and instinctive. No matter how many races he won, Ed had to tip his hat to his wife as she survived what he gathered was unimaginable agony. And then, there was the finish. Natalie grabbed the baby first, aided by a nurse. It was wild. How in the hell did she figure that shit out?

Born into the world, their baby screamed once he was out. He wanted everyone to know his own opinion on matters.

“A healthy baby boy,” a nurse said. “Good lungs.”

Natalie held the baby to her chest, sobbing. Time stood still. That was it. They were parents—forever. The battle was won but the journey had just begun.

For Immediate Release-

The Princess of Wales has been delivered a baby boy weighing nine pounds, 2 ounces and measuring 23 inches in length after a swift labour. Both mother and baby are recovering well at St. Mary’s Hospital. The birth was attended by midwives of the Lindo Wing and the baby’s father, the Duke of Cornwall.

The child, now second in line to the thrown behind its mother, will be known as His Royal Highness Prince Duncan Paul Robert John named after his great uncle, uncle, and both grandfathers. The King and Queen are delighted with the safe delivery of their eighth grandchild.

“You love him, don’t you?”Natalie cooed as Lucy held the baby.

“He’s precious as can be, Nat,” Lucy said, tearful. “And he will be a wonderful friend to whatever we will call this little girl. Won’t you be?”

“I have never met a baby so inquisitive,” Natalie sighed. “He is perfect. Isn’t he?”

“Everyone thinks that about their kids,” George joked. “But yes. He’s wonderful.”

“A good combination of the both of you,” Kiersten said. “Isn’t he adorable, Cecilia?”

Cecilia wasn’t convinced about her younger cousin. “He’s a baby.”

“He’s a baby, darling, but isn’t he precious?” Kiersten asked.

She grimaced. “He’s a baby.”

“She doesn’t like babies right now,” Olav said. “It’s… a thing.”

“We’re not going to have any more babies,” Cecilia declared.

It seemed unlikely that more babies would happen for the Norwegians. It was a shame. Between Kiersten’s traumatic delivery of Cecilia and the currently shaky marriage between the Norwegian spare and his wife, the Norsk court only had 2 children in the line of succession. It was nervy.

“No, that is the plan. No more babies,” Olav said.

Kiersten shot him a look.

Kiersten wasn’t even yet 30. She wanted more babies. This was obvious now. Duncan was not helping.

“Hello! Hello!” Paul called out. “We’ve brought the circus.”

“Oh, hey!” Ed entered the family room from the hall to the butler’s pantry.

He brought drinks for everyone.

Keir ran to Lucy to observe his new cousin.

“How are the twins?” Natalie asked her brother as he approached.

He had one baby in a sling and the other was in Sanne’s arms.

“They are barely awake, but it’s not nap time,” Sanne answered. “So, someone keep them awake.”

“I’ll take one,” George volunteered.

“You just whinged about your children,” Natalie laughed.

“He wants another baby. He always wants another baby,” Patrick said. “Keir, Nate, the girls are out in the garden.”

Nate took off, ignoring the new baby.

“He is a good baby, Auntie,” Keir ignored the hubbub with his cousins.

“Do you want to hold him?” Natalie asked. “I know this is old hat for you, but I’d let you?”

“Come here,” Lucy said.

Keir took her place and Lucy handed the baby over.

It made Natalie strangely emotional to see them together like that. Keir was Natalie’s heir presumptive for half a decade. And now, here he was holding her baby—the long-awaited little miracle baby no one saw coming. Together, they were precious. She began to cry, taking a picture with her mobile.

“Natalie, are you crying?” Lucy asked.

“Are you crying, Auntie Nat?”

“It’s just… I never expected to see this. And I am so grateful for it. No, Keir. It’s very sweet. You have always been such a special person and now you get to hold this miracle of a person. It’s almost like we’ve always needed him here.”

Ed handed Natalie a beer. “It’s been long-awaited. And you did an excellent job, baby.”

“It will be a loud life,” Natalie said. “But the best type. We’re all here. Couldn’t be better, right?”

“So happy for you both,” George said. “Truly. We’ve come full circle. We’re all old, married, and with kids.”

“I’m a mum. It’s perfection,” Natalie said. “I will never take it for granted.”

“Don’t,” Paul looked emotional. “Life is so fleeting and they grow so fast.”

“Lucy,you need to push, dear. Push,” a midwife said.

Lucy looked at Winston who looked back as if to remind her she was fine.

“I cannot feel anything and it worries me. What if I split in half again?” Lucy sobbed.

She had finally gotten her epidural with her longest labour yet—seven hours. Their baby was emerging, and Lucy panicked at replicating problems Iona wrought.

“Lucy, you will be fine,” Winston said.

“I recommend an episiotomy to avoid that,” the consultant said. “And we will get you stitched up properly after. It will be much better, Lucy.”

“Don’t cut my clitoris and we’re good,” Lucy sobbed. “I just need this baby out of me and I don’t want my pussy broken!”

Lucy then apologised, “I’m sorry for all of that.”

“You have a baby emerging from your body, sweetheart, it’s fine,” a nurse said.

“Push on this next contraction,” the midwife said. “Push! Push! Push!”

Lucy pushed and felt a relief of pressure.

“Baby’s head is right there,” a nurse said. “Right there.”

Lucy dug in as deep as she could. She thought about the joy of holding her baby and found another gear. Out popped the baby with a woosh. The doctor held her little face up and put her on Lucy’s belly while Winston cut the cord.

And that was it. She was here.

Lucy sobbed happy tears. “Welcome to the world Francine Natalie Vanora.”

“We’re going to call her Frankie,” Winston said, proudly. “Frankie Ferguson. Ridiculous but beautiful. Oh, Lucy, she is lovely. She looks so much like you.”

“She is yeah. And bright-eyed,” Lucy admitted.

The nurses swooped the baby away to measure and weigh her. Winston walked over to observe. Lucy looked at the swarm of people and listened to the happy conversation. She was full of happy-sad emotions. It was the last time she would see this scene. It was the last time she had greeted a new life that had once been carried around and nurtured within.

It hit Lucy hard. This was a new chapter—a new life. So much changed. She had an important job. Her brood was home with their father most days. Winston was happy with his painting and the children—the happiest he’d been in years. She was fulfilled in her marriage. Their family was complete. A year ago, this didn’t seem possible. This level of joy was unimaginable then.

She knew happy days were ahead. Days of her children playing in the garden with the children of her friends at Frogmore would continue. Frankie and Duncan would grow up together—in step. How was that even possible? Love had, indeed, won out in the end. As silly as it seemed, the hard work and painful examination paid off. They hadn’t lost faith.

So, as she settled into nursing their youngest and last baby, Lucy looked over at Winston and was so grateful. This little life was an unusual one with a non-linear trajectory. It came with flashbulbs, press releases, and wild children; but it was a beautiful existence. Best of all, she walked it with the person she loved most.