Page 91 of Royally Rivalled

The baby made an abundance of noise while trying to eat. I did not know how anyone could chat over it. I assumed people with babies just tuned it out. Astrid chattered on with her sister, catching up. Then, when little Linnea spotted a croissant, she wanted to move on to greener pastures.

“Let me take her,” Astrid offered.

Alexandra, relieved to hand her child off again, relented and let Astrid carry the baby away. She sat by me, baby in her lap. The child gnawed on a croissant, getting crumbs everywhere. No one cared but me, I supposed. Babies were a messy nightmare, but Astrid only doted. The baby looked up at me, confused, and then smiled. I smiled back. She giggled. It was fucking heart-warming.

“She’s just started solids,” Alexandra said. “And she’s hopelessly addicted to food, as you can see.”

“I don’t disagree with her.” Astrid kissed the baby’s cheek and played with her fat feet. Astrid never struck me as a baby person, but she was an adoring aunt.

Distracted by Astrid and Linny, the sound of the massive doors opening shook me. Before I decided what to do, two more girls crowded around Astrid. They were squealing, jumping, and giggling like idiots. One was taller and more substantial than the other, who I suspected was the family baby. These were the “little girls?” Astriddescribed them as sweet and innocent. I expected them to be pre-pubescent and in primary school or something. Instead, they were teenagers. I wanted to stand, but they crowded me. I gave up on social graces.

“Parker, this is Odette,” Astrid said of the strawberry-blonde older one before turning to the lighter blond, “And this is Ingrid, the baby of the family.”

“This is the Duke of Westnedge,” Alexandra said.

“You’re dating a duke?” Ingrid asked.

She and Astrid shared the same lack of filter.

Odette, voice low, said, “You don’t know they’re dating. Be cool, Ingy.”

“Oh, we’re dating. It’s fine,” I clarified. “Please, call me Parker.”

“You have a weird name,” Ingrid remarked.

“Ingy, mind yourself,” Alexandra scolded.

I merely chuckled.

“Sorry, but it’s a weird name!” She protested now in French.

“He speaks French,” Astrid warned. “And, unlike Rick, he speaks fluently.”

Rick scowled before chuckling. “My French is abysmal. My wife reminds me daily.”

They looked lovingly at one another while the baby screeched, reaching for a fork and failing to grasp it.

“Should I give it to her?” I asked.

“Are you fucking nuts? No!” Astrid scoffed. “It’s pointy. She’s just going to fuss.”

“I don’t know a thing about babies,” I admitted. “Never had one. Don’t know any.”

“I also had no idea about babies,” Alexandra said. “Rick loves them. I do not.”

Astrid burst into a fit of laughter. I stared, confused.

“How’s that battle going for you, Rikard?”

“Ask your sister. I feel I am losing my mind more daily. However, look at this beautiful child. How could you deny her a sibling?”

Ah, we’d stepped into a marital argument about procreation!Stunningly, they were so open and candid. I didn’t know what to do. My family would never act in this manner. At least the Deschamps family was genuine. Even the baby was cloying as she stared up at me, gumming a napkin and drooling everywhere. It was strangely idyllic. I wanted to know more.

fifty

ASTRID

Men were assholes.I knew it! So did Alexandra. So, we had to whinge about them over a couple’s massage. It was scheduled for Alexandra and Rick, but Rick split because he wanted to bring Parker to a brewery. It was all ridiculous. I gave up trying to understand. They got on fine, which was massive. I could complain, but not about how well Rick accepted my new beau. Alexandra intended the massage to relax her before our old bat of a grandmother arrived.

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