Page 68 of The Un-Apparent Heir

“Are we like…out of the woods? This all could end?”

“If your tests come back positive,” the midwife said, “then, the risk of miscarriage is very minimal. It is usually about this point that most couples tell their families they are expecting, but it's a personal choice.”

“But how come I am not showing?” Natalie panicked. “And I didn’t have symptoms—other than being exhausted and feeling ill? And why so late? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Some people show late with a first pregnancy.”

“You’re in remarkable shape, Nat. Strong. I swam with women who swam—not even showing much in a swimsuit—into their fourth or fifth month. You’re also tall. It helps,” Ed said.

“The symptoms vary by person. Some people have lots. This is typically the worst time for nausea. Around fourteen weeks, it abates and your energy improves,” the midwife explained. “But it’s all normal and not concerning. We will have tests back in a week or so.”

Natalie and Ed left with a roll of baby photos.

“I think it’s a girl,” Natalie said.

“Youhopeit is a girl,” Ed chuckled. “We must wait ages to find out.”

“True.”

“I’m so happy, Natalie.”

“I am, too,” Natalie admitted. “I finally feel like I can breathe. I’m going to be a mum.”

“You will be wonderful at it. We will love this baby to the ends of the Earth. And while I wish this happened in my thirties, I still have some life in me.”

“Let’s wait until the tests come back and then we can tell our parents. They will be so happy to hear our news, Ed!”

Ed smiled broadly as they left the car park. “I know they will. What a happy surprise!”

Sanne called for her boys to come in from the garden. They were in Whitstable. They’d gone out to play before dinner. Neither minded the cold. Paul blamed their Norwegian blood for their hardiness. Both boys were wild, tumbling in the door.

“No roughhousing,” Sanne said. “Coats and boots off. No nonsense, got it?”

Sanne returned to making dinner while the boys played on their tablets. After a bit of prep, she finally put dinner on the table. Paul would be home late—too late to eat. Sanne usually came home first. She was always there for school pickup. It was important for Sanne and Paul to give the boys a normal childhood. Keir may be the future king, but he would be treated like any other child, as far as Sanne and Paul were concerned.

Sanne always received flak from the press for raising her boys as normies. People accused her of shirking and leaving too much work for Vanna and Natalie. Of course, neither had young children. Natalie was treated remarkably well by the press after their infertility announcement. Sanne was grateful. She didn’t want to see Natalie and Ed suffer. Meanwhile, the press continued to rake Sanne over the coals for everything.

Keir was a future king. His commoner mother was unappealing, poorly-mannered, and didn’t know how to raise a future monarch. People claimed she whipped Paul into submission somehow and he had no power over his children. They made her out as a demon. No matter how hard she worked these days, Sanne couldn’t win.

At some point when Nathan was just a baby, she stopped trying. Sanne had another reason to be lazy—as if that was ever true. She was carrying what they suspected was their third child. However, instead of being blessed with one baby, she had gotten the genetic curse of being a fraternal twin toting fraternal twins. So, baby three—supposedly their last—was now babies three and four. With any luck, she’d deliver in May.

Sanne fed her boys and tucked them into bed. She soaked up these moments the best she could. Being a mother was the most rewarding thing she’d ever done. She and Paul were happiest devoting their lives to raising children. It was a blissful existence for now. Sanne could whinge about being married to the now-heir as much as she wanted. She could miss her late mother or pine for America, but she could also get on a plane and visit her mother in Oslo or her sister in Michigan. And every night, she fell asleep knowing she was married and loved her children more than life.

Despite life being an adjustment and as much as the press hounded her, Sanne had a thick skin. She focused on raising boys who were kind, compassionate, and truly themselves. They could be anything—yes, even a fast jet pilot like Auntie Natalie. Their world was full of endless possibilities. It was fascinating to watch them reason and grow. They loved one another to bits. They were brothers through and through.

Sanne didn’t make it long after dinner. She fell asleep, waking to the sound of Paul downstairs making breakfast for the boys. He was singing to them, something he did most days. They were already in their school uniforms.

Sanne approached to kiss him. “When did you get in last night, baby?”

“Late,” Paul replied. “Fell asleep to these little devils kicking up a storm. I don’t know how you sleep.”

He patted her stomach lovingly.

“Not well,” Sanne giggled. “Not well.”

“I let you sleep in because you needed it. Now, boys, are you ready to go with me up the road? Eat up. We have about ten minutes.”

Sanne smiled. Paul made her bacon and eggs. She had a lonely single cup of coffee. It kept her alive some mornings. The press would have a field day if she ever admitted to drinking it while pregnant—despite having produced two bright, sweet boys who had made it to two and nearly four with little fanfare.

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