Sequel to the Valtoria Diaries. Original and rewritten scenes from The Royal Heir timeline.
Starting a family is a testing time for any newly married couple, but having the hopes and dreams of Cordonia on your shoulders makes it particularly hard...
Maxwell's entire body jolted with shock when he woke up the next morning. His first reflex action was to reach desperately across to his left, but not for the first time that week, he'd woken up alone. For the first time, though, it was his own stupid fault.
His stomach wrenched, and misery began to cloud over his awakening brain. He was surprised he'd actually slept at all. He checked the time. It was about eight. Then he picked up his phone. All of his messages to Jen had been read. She hadn't replied to any.
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He sighed, and sent one more.
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Then he closed the messenger app, heading over to his regular resource for pregnancy facts.
"Well, my little bean," he said to himself. "You're officially at the halfway stage today. You're now the size of a sweet potato, and actually even sweeter..." He wondered where Jen and little bean were; presumably they were somewhere in this big old house that they both called home. "You could even be sucking your sweet lil' thumb by now. And if you're a girl..." He started to sob. "Like your beautiful mommy, then you already have tiny eggs in your tiny ovaries. But if you're a boy, like your stupid screwup of a daddy, then you already know you'll be so much better than him.."
He couldn't see the phone screen anymore, and just collapsed into more pathetic tears, lamenting his idiotic choices. He really wished he'd known when to keep his mouth shut. He'd pretty much left her thinking she was inadequate and untrusting, and whatever words he could come up with to throw at her weren't going to fix that completely.
I should speak to her. Tell her I love her. Obviously, all those messages say that. But it's morning now. She might feel differently.
Who am I trying to kid? She's still gonna hate my guts.
All the same, he called her. It went straight to voicemail.
"Jen. Hey. I..." His voice faltered. "I love you Jen. I'm sorry. I just want to talk, yeah?"
He pressed the red button, and gazed out of the window. Talking to someone who cared would probably help. And if Jen wasn't answering, maybe someone else would.
