Page 53 of Prince Un-Charming

“Mom, what am I looking at? It’s too early for this.” I blink and rub my face, trying to make out something I recognize among the sea of bodies and flashing lights.

“Right… there! Did you see it? Here, let me rewind it. There!” Mom taps the screen to pause it.

“Just tell me what I’m supposed to be seeing. I feel terrible.”

She searches through her phone for a shot from a different angle. When she finds one, it’s bad.

It wakes me up more quickly than strong coffee.

Caesar is in the tabloids, as usual. He’s tousled and handsome, as usual. And, as usual, there’s a leggy, blonde bombshell on his arm looking like she just gave him a rollicking good time.

I can feel the blood drain from my face. This isn’t anything I haven’t seen before, but it hurts so much more than usual. How stupid could I have been to believe him when he told me it would stop?I should have been there.

Mom, still focused on her phone, doesn’t see that I’m dying of humiliation. Instead, she pulls up another video, this one from the front.

There’s no denying it now. The woman pulls him into a kiss he clearly wasn’t prepared for. He holds up an arm to call for a car.

The headline?Newlywed Prince Up to His Old Tricks.

My heart is pounding, and my nausea rises. Mom is reading off more headlines from other papers and opinion pieces.

“These are ridiculous, Viv.‘Boys Will Be Boys.’ ‘Can’t Keep a Playboy Down.’And my personal favorite,‘Mrs. Vanecourt Has Post-Wedding Blues!’”

She doesn’t notice that I’m not listening until she hears me retching over the toilet bowl. “Vivienne?” she asks like I can answer her.

When I finally finish, I’m a wreck. Tears and snot are all over my face. If there had been a part of me that wished Caesar had been home last night, it’s gone now.

Grabbing a towel from under the sink, I soak it and start to clean up as best I can through my sobs. I feel hands on my arms pulling me out of the bathroom, but I push them away. They’re immediately back, dragging me gently but insistently into bed, pulling up the covers, and washing my face with a washcloth.

I close my eyes for a few minutes and wake again when I feel pressure next to me on the bed. My mother is looking at me with softness and love in her eyes.

She’s grim, but there’s a touch of something else. If I didn’t know better, I would call it empathy. “Vivienne. Are you pregnant?”

I bite my lip, wishing the sourness in my belly would go away. “Probably.”

She nods. “Okay. Drink this.”

A hot cup of something has magically appeared on my nightstand. I shake my head vigorously, but she holds it to my lips. After a few sips, my boiling insides reduce to a low simmer.

“Get dressed. I’ll take you to the doctor.” Mom leaves the room, brooking no argument.

I force myself into something resembling an outfit, brushing my teeth and combing my hair. My mother is acting very suspiciously. She should be railing at me, insulting me, or anything but this. Instead, she’s actingnice.I’ve never known my mother to benice.

My phone is ringing off the hook, but I’ve been ignoring every call. I don’t even know what Caesar would say if given the chance.

He’s never justified any of his actions to me before, and I don’t think I can stomach his cocky, women-just-hang-all-over-me attitude. Especially right now, when everything makes me feel nauseated.

How could I have let this happen? My mind keeps going to the promises he made me, but I feel so stupid for believing them. This is all my fault. I knew what he was, but still I bought it when he said he would change. I am such an idiot. Switching off my phone, I head out.

Mom has the car ready and waiting in the garage when I stuff my feet into some shoes and climb in. I lean my head against the back of the seat and pretend I’m in a plane that’s going to take me far away from here.

The doctor confirms what we suspected. We leave with a prescription for nausea medication, recommendations for vitamins, and very conflicted feelings. Mom doesn’t say anything the whole time. Instead, she fills my prescription and drives me to the park for hot dogs.

“How did you know I was craving hot dogs?”

She shrugs and hands me one, sitting down on the bench. “I couldn’t get enough mystery meat when I was pregnant with you all. It’s tradition with all your sisters. They loved hot dogs, too, when they were in the family way.”

Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she lets the breeze play with her hair a moment before looking at me again. “So tell me.”

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