Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Astrid
I’ve been working on an unofficial project I’m calling Operation Loosen Up in my head. Of course I can’t say that out loud, particularly not to the subject of the operation. That would make it sound a bit like something out of a spy show. This mission, should I choose to accept it…
Well, I have accepted it, and I’m doing my very best to help my fiancé loosen up.
The way I see it, we’ve got these two weeks together that will either make or break us.
Take, for instance, what happened yesterday afternoon.
Following a successful visit to the children’s hospital, in which I spied what appeared to be Frederic bonding with a boy who gave him a picture, we visited the Mayor’s official residence.
We were sipping cups of tea and enjoying scones with jam and clotted cream while making polite conversation when the Mayor’s golden retriever came bounding over to us with all the enthusiasm that golden retrievers possess. Which is a lot, as we all know.
I crouched down and enthusiastically petted the dog as it tried to lick my neck while Frederic looked like he might want to merge into the wallpaper.
I then suggested that Frederic might like to pet the dog, and he did so with precisely three pats to the top of its head, like he was following some kind of protocol manual in one of his binders, entitled How to Pet a Dog in Public.
There was no joy in it. That was the problem. He just petted the dog like he was a robot.
Of course, photographers were present. The papers this morning posted only a photo of Frederic looking completely out of his comfort zone, with the dog’s tail drooping while I looked on in the background with a bemused expression.
So where does that place us on this Royal Unity Promenade to show the country we’re actually marrying for love? I’d say we’re still at the starting blocks, hoping it’s all going to pan out.
Now, we’re at the new wing of an aquarium in Portminster, about fifty kilometers south of Lysoria, and Frederic has just cut the ribbon. The director has suggested we get into the tank with the dolphins for a swim, and the photographers are practically salivating at the idea.
“Absolutely not,” Frederic says before I even open my mouth.
“Why not? You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” I reply.
“You’re going to say ‘Let’s do it.’”
“But Fred, this would be an incredible experience. Have you ever swum with dolphins before?”
“That’s not the point.”
The director, a man called Mr. Proctor, a prematurely balding man who looks exactly like Jacques Cousteau, watches us hopefully. “We have wetsuits that would fit both of you, and I assure you, it’s perfectly safe, sir.”
I’m not letting this opportunity pass me by, no matter what level of protocol or decorum Frederic is clinging to.
“I would love to swim with the dolphins, Mr. Proctor. I’ve never been able to do anything like this in Elkevik.
In fact, you can barely swim in Elkevik because the water’s so cold.
Only in summer, for approximately two weeks, is it warm enough to step foot in without freezing.
Although I’m told it is very good for your body to get into cold water, you know. ”
Frederic stares at me as though I’m speaking gibberish.
But Jacques Cousteau beams at me. “Wonderful!” he says with glee.
A short while later, I’m using the long string that hangs off the back of a wetsuit to zip it up before piling my hair on top of my head, when there’s a knock on the ladies’ changing-room door.
“Who is it?” I call out.
“It’s… err, me. Your fiancé,” Frederic’s low voice rumbles.
I pull the door open and am met with the most incredible sight. Frederic, wearing a sleeveless wetsuit that shows off a pair of rather shapely arms. Arms I might have seen in photos of him on the beach in the past, but have not yet seen in real life.
It takes me a moment to regain control of myself.
He looks rather… manly.
Yes. Manly. That’s the word.
I’m not going to pretend I don’t like it, because I most certainly do.
Being me, my mouth runs away before I can stop it. “Your arms, Fred!”
He immediately looks self-conscious, his hands flying to his biceps that yes, are bulging. Quite magnificently, in fact. “What is it? What’s wrong? Has a fly landed on me?” He flicks his shoulder at a non-existent fly.
I once met an Australian who used the expression there’s no flies on me, mate, and that springs instantly to mind. There are definitely no flies on Frederic, just muscle upon muscle.
It’s enough to make a girl swoon, I tell you.
“There’s nothing wrong at all. I just hadn’t realized how much you work out.”
“Oh. Thank you,” he replies, clearly uncertain of how to respond to such an odd compliment.
“What I meant to say is, you have nice arms.” Extremely nice arms.
“Thank you,” he repeats, though this time there’s a tiny quirk at the corner of his lips. Blink and you’d miss it. But I don’t miss it. A lip quirk is good. It shows there’s a beating heart buried somewhere in there.
“I would say the same to you, but I can’t see your arms under all the black rubber.”
I stretch my wetsuit-clad arms out in front of me. “They’re not a patch on yours, I assure you,” I reply, resisting the urge to trail my fingers over his firm musculature. “I didn’t think you were going to go in.”
“I changed my mind.”
I grin at him, my belly buzzing with the fact that he’s joining me on this adventure. “Well, I’m glad to see it, Fred.”
“It would look odd in the papers if only you swam.”
My heart sinks. Right. He’s only doing this for the optics. And here I was thinking he was doing it for fun. Fun with me.
“After you.” He holds the door open for me.
I paste on a smile and step out of the ladies’ room.
Once we’re in the pool area, the smell of fish fills the air and we’re surrounded by an audience of aquarium attendees and the media. Frederic reaches for my hand, but I don’t let myself read anything into it. I know it’s all for show.
“Are you ready, sir, ma’am?” Mr. Proctor asks.
“Yes. Let’s swim with dolphins,” Frederic replies.
Ordinarily, I would cannonball into a pool because, let’s face it, that’s the most fun way to get into one. Today, I’m a princess in front of an entire gallery of eager eyes. So instead, I slip gently into the pool alongside Fred.
With the trainer already in, he gives us some directions on how we can swim with the dolphins.
Before long, we’re surrounded by them, with five sleek and playful bodies weaving through the water.
It’s a little unnerving at first, but then I slide my mask over my eyes, slip my snorkel in place, and dive under to get a closer look.
They’re gorgeous and so full of life as they swim around us, leaping out of the water and diving back in, circling, turning, darting.
A laugh bursts out of me, except, through my snorkel it sounds like an odd, bubbly gurgle.
I pop up for air to find Frederic surfacing a moment later.
“Isn’t this amazing?” I ask as I remove my snorkel.
“It really is,” he replies, his whole face lit up with a smile so genuine it almost blinds me.
Is Fred actually enjoying himself?
“Should we go back down?” he asks.
“Just try and stop me.”
This time, when he reaches for my hand under the water, I know it’s not for the cameras. It’s because he’s enjoying himself, and he wants to share the moment with me.
I try not to let it go to my head.
The dolphins frolic and glide around us. I turn to look at Frederic, and although his face is obscured by his mask and snorkel, I can tell he’s happy.
I’ve never felt so connected to him.
We swim and swim and laugh and have a truly marvelous time.
All too soon, it’s over, and after posing for photos, we return to the changing rooms. I need to change back into my official clothes which, for me, means having my makeup redone and my hair blown dry in the ladies’ bathroom.
But I don’t mind. It was worth it, for the dolphins, and more remarkably, for a happy, carefree Fred, something I didn’t think I would ever see.
After we’ve changed, Mr. Proctor leads us to the penguin enclosure.
“That was a very good spontaneous moment back there,” Frederic says quietly to me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we held hands and looked very much like a couple. I think it was well received and might possibly be the beginning of turning this thing around for us.”
“Oh.” I close my mouth, feeling an odd sensation settle low in my belly.
I was wrong. It was all for show. He took my hand because it was the right thing to do for the audience.
I’m such an idiot. Here I was, thinking he genuinely enjoyed my company, that he reached for me because he wanted to. Not because it was part of our royal performance.
Of course it was for show. That’s all this is, isn’t it? A performance. A carefully orchestrated arrangement.
We stand and listen to an environmentalist talk about penguins’ natural habitat in the Southern Hemisphere, but I’m finding it hard to concentrate. I tell myself I shouldn’t be worried about this. It shouldn’t bother me. I can’t help it. It’s gotten under my skin.
Frederic is a cold fish, an apt metaphor considering where we are. He’s a cold fish who has less than zero interest in me, who’s only on this tour because he’s been told to.
A little girl approaches me with a posy of flowers, and I crouch down to take it from her. “Thank you so much.” I lift the flowers to my nose and take a sniff. “What’s your name?”
“Jessica,” the girl says with a gap-tooth smile.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Jessica. These flowers are just lovely.”
“Are you Cinderella?” she asks, and I let out a laugh.
“No, I’m not. I’m Princess Astrid from a country in the far north. I’m here to marry Prince Frederic.” I gesture toward my future husband, who’s talking with the environmentalist.
Her little face falls. “Oh. I thought you might be Cinderella.”