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“Listen to me,” Mother Ward says, clasping in her pearl earring. “Do not speak to anyone. Not the photographers, not the stylists, certainly not the interviewer.”
Skye raises an eyebrow. “Not even the interns?”
Mother is not amused. “Not even the interns.”
“I don’t get it,” Skye says, more to Christian or Grant than to Mother. “Aren’t they coming to like... meet me?”
Christian makes a noncommittal gesture. “Give Vanity Fair an inch and they’ll take a mile,” he says.
“Can’t you just tell them what to say?” Skye says.
“Not really,” Christian says. “They want a story, not a blurb. They’re going to make thing out of this-”
“Naturally,” Mother says, with a roll of her eyes.
“And not to offend you, Skye-”
“Oh God,” Skye says. “This will be good.”
Christian bristles. “But,” he continues. “You and Grant are unwed. Your job description is ‘shady hacker,’ at best. And you have no last name.”
“I have ‘Poots’” Skye says. “We could give them that.”
“Absolutely not,” Mother says. “Does anyone have anything better?”
“Smith?” Grant offers.
“Skye Smith is inoffensive,” Skye says. Nods. “It could work.”
“She needs a middle name, too,” Anna says.
“Should we just give them my birth records?” Skye asks. “Because if so, the joke’s on them. I have none.”
“I doubt they’ll go digging,” Christian says.
“It worries me that you said ‘I doubt,’ and not ‘they won’t,’” Skye says.
Grant wraps his arm around her shoulder. “They won’t,” he says. “Probably. Definitely. 90% sure.”
“If this is such a mess,” Skye says. “Then why bothering doing it?”
Mother makes a noise in the back of her throat. “This isn’t anywhere near mess,” she says. “This is just routine.”
“I miss my van,” Skye says. “Like, right now, I really miss my van.”
Grant kisses her head. “Don’t be nervous,” he says. “I’ll protect you.”
“I will too,” Christian says.
“I’ll bludgeon someone with Christian’s shoe, if need be,” Anna says.
“Why not your own shoe?” Christian asks. “You’ve got heels!”
“Dior heels, Christian,” she says. “They’re silk.”
“Fair,” he says.
“Oh my God,” Skye says. “I’m in a parallel universe.”
“No, Skye,” Mother says. She looks more puffed up than usual, like she’s preening for a war and not a dinner. “You’re in Vanity Fair.”
--
“We need something that really shows her bump,” the stylist says. It’s kind of hard to hear her, over the din of about thirty other people. Skye’s never seen the living room so packed before, even on the holidays.
Apparently, the Wards have less close friends than Vanity Fair has stylists.
This is not a surprise.
The stylist reaches to touch Skye’s baby bump, only for Grant to firmly place his hand over it. “What do you have in mind?”
A drop of the hand. “Well, the wrap dress is very in season for pregnant women,” she says. “And Kate Middleton loves Max Mara, so-”
“Does she look like Kate Middleton?” Mother Ward says, pulling on her necklace. It’s a move that makes her look thoughtful. Observant.
The stylist swallows. “No.”
“And would it really make sense for this shoot to be trendy?” Mother continues, throwing out ‘trendy’ as if it were a dirty word. “When you think ‘Ward,’ what do you see?”
“Timeless elegance, Mother,” Christian says.
Skye will admit it. They’re one hell of a terrifying team. Ice bitch and her son, the WASP heir apparent.
“Exactly, Christian,” Mother says. “She’ll wear Ralph, like the rest of us. Something in blue.”
“Blue-” The stylist glances to the clothes rack. Back to mother. “She’s expecting a boy?”
Skye opens her mouth-
“We’re democrats,” Christian says. “What other color would she wear?”
And Skye shuts her mouth just as quickly.
It’s funny. She can navigate the regular Wards just fine. The political Wards, though? It’s a different, frosty animal.
Like a polar bear made of diamonds.
“I’ll be wearing green, I think,” Anna says. “An emerald color. For fall.”
“You just want the emerald necklace,” Christian says, under his breath.
Anna gives a smug little grin. “Did you say something, dear?”
“Nothing, darling,” Christian says.
“Okay, so,” Thomas says, sliding up beside Skye and Grant. “Who wants to go get high out back?”
“First, where did you even come from?” Skye whispers. “Where were you when I was getting the debrief?”
“Oh, you know,” Thomas says. “Avoiding the entire situation altogether.”
“And second, I can’t smoke pot you little shit,” Skye says. “I’ve got a baby.”
“I know,” Thomas says. “I really just wanted to rub in that you can’t smoke pot with me.”
“Oh, real nice,” Skye says.
“Don’t be a dick, Thomas,” Grant says. He pats Skye’s bump to reassure her. “I mean. Attempt to be less of a dick.”
“I’m trying,” Thomas faux-whines. “But it’s so haaaard.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Grant says, batting Thomas with his free hand. “Why don’t you go make Skye some tea?”
“I’m not the tea boy,” Thomas says.
“Is there a tea boy?” Skye asks. “Because I need to know if that’s a real thing.”
“It’s what Gramsy used to dub Christian,” Grant says, circling his arms around Skye. “Because Christian liked to make her tea.”
“That’s so sweet,” Skye says. “Oh no.”
“I know,” Thomas says, glancing at Christian. “He was so cute when he was wittle.”
“You were like, a fetus,” Grant says. “You barely even remember.”
“I actually have to go talk to him,” Skye says. “Tell him the news.”
“You didn’t call him?” Thomas asks.
“Nah,” Grant says. He’s resting his chin on Skye’s head, and it’s kind of digging into her scalp. She moves back, so that it’s not directly on the center of her head. Plus, it’s nice to snuggle into Grant’s arms. “She wanted to see the look on his face.”
“Ten bucks says he cries,” Thomas says.
“You’re on, tea boy,” Grant says.
They shake hands as best they can. Since Skye’s directly in the way.
“But for real,” Skye says. “Tea. Green. No caffeine.”
“So bossy,” Thomas says.
“I hate you,” Skye tells him.
“No you don’t,” Thomas says. “Milk and honey?”
“Sure, sweetums,” Skye says.
Thomas makes a face. “That was a bad one.”
“I thought it was funny,” Grant says.
“Then congrats,” Thomas says. “You’re ready to be parents.”
Skye blanks on what to say.
It’s nice that Grant does, too. Makes her feel less idiotic.
“So,” she says. Turns her head to nuzzle Grant’s neck. “Where’s Rosie? Upstairs?”
“She’s down at the club,” Grant says. He’s so warm. He smells so good. She could jump him right here, really. “Father took her riding.”
“He doesn’t have to be here?” Skye asks.
“Christian sort of fills in for him,” Grant says. “And you know how nervous this stuff makes Rose.”
“I’m glad she’s out having fun, then,” Skye says. “Someone here should be.”
“Oh, agreed,” Grant says. “They’ll just photoshop her and Father in later like they always do.”
“Mn,” Skye says. She’d been paying attention. Honest! But then Grant had shifted against her, and the seam of his pants had felt sort of like an erection, and God she wants him so bad-
“Shh,” he says. While no one is looking, he gently presses his hand against her breast. “Later, okay? My poor, needy baby.”
“Your fault,” Skye whines. “For putting it in me.”
“I know,” Grant says. “I’m not sorry.”
“Jerk,” Skye teases.
“Guilty,” he says.
“And speaking of,” she adds. “I think we should pull Christian aside.”
--
Christian is getting his makeup done, which is at least five different degrees of hilarious. But that’s not the point.
“Hey there, beauty queen,” Skye says.
Christian opens one eye. “Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever, Fiver,” she says. “Can we talk to you for a sec?”
“Right now?” Christian says.
“It’s pretty urgent,” Grant says. “We really need to talk to you.”
With a sigh, Christian waves off the makeup artist.
Skye snickers. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m not-” He frowns. “How was that dramatic?”
“Shut up,” Skye says, grabbing him by the sleeve. “Come on. Bathroom.”
“Why do we have to go to the bathroom?” Christian says, as they force him out of the living room. “Why am I always getting ambushed at family gatherings?”
“It’s kind of our thing,” Skye says.
“I never agreed to it,” Christian says.
“Wah,” Grant says. “It’s so hard to be you.”
Skye bursts out laughing.
“Dear God,” Christian says. “She’s rubbed off on you.”
“I’m not actually rubbing off on him,” Skye says. “Which is a problem, since pregnancy makes you horny all the-”
“No,” Christian says. “No, absolutely not.”
“You’re as bad as Thomas,” Grant says.
A noise of protest. “I am not!”
“Close the door,” Skye tells Grant.
He does.
“Okay,” Skye says, releasing Christian’s arm. He’s quick to lean against the sink. Appraise them. “We have big news.”
“Go on,” Christian says.
“We went to the OB,” Grant says. “End of last week.”
“We thought it might be a little early to tell but-” Skye grins in excitement. Presses her knuckles against her jaw. “We’re having a girl!”
Christian blinks. Swallows. Uncrosses his arms. “A... girl?” he asks. Reaches for his pocket and pulls out his hankercheif. “A little baby girl?”
“Damn it,” Grant says. “Don’t cry, I’m gonna owe Thomas-”
“A little girl,” Christian repeats. And he is crying, though not very dramatically. Just happy, fat tears springing from his brown eyes. He dabs away his tears. “A baby princess.”
“We haven’t decided on a full name yet,” Grant says. “But we want her middle name to be May. For you.”
“For me?” Christian asks. Skye didn’t even know his voice could get that high.
“Yeah, dummy,” Skye says. “For you.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Christian says. “I have to tell Anna-”
“Oh she knows,” Skye says. “We called her like, when we found out.”
“But we told her not to tell you,” Grant says. “So we could see you lose it in person.”
Christian doesn’t even bristle. Or frown. Or chortle. None of his usual mannerisms seem to apply. “You’re having a baby girl,” Christian says. “I’m going to hold her and sing to her and raise her-”
“Woah,” Skye says. “I offered you this baby and you said no.”
“As an Uncle,” Christian says. Wipes at his eyes again. “I mean as an Uncle.”
“Do you?” Skye says.
“He’ll be fine,” Grant says. “Probably.”
Christian gently presses his hand onto Skye’s stomach. “She’s still so small,” he says. “Can she hear me?”
“Yeah,” Skye says. “She can hear you.”
Christian nods. Slowly leans forward. “Hi princess,” he says. “I’m your Uncle. You’re going to be the oldest. Like me. But it’ll be okay. You know that? I’ll be right here for you.”
“Us too, baby,” Skye says, rubbing her stomach. “We all love you so much.”
“Should we be able to feel her kicking?” Christian asks.
“Not yet,” Grant says. “Too early.”
“When we feel it, we’ll call you,” Skye says.
“I’ll come right over,” he says. Skye knows he means it. “Our little princess baby.”
“Remember when you used to be an asshole?” Skye asks.
“Don’t curse!” Christian says. “She can hear you.”
“Well shit,” Skye says.
Christian glares, before dissolving into tears again. “A girl!” he says. “We have to think of names!”
Skye blinks. “Um-”
There’s a knock on the bathroom door. “I made tea!” Thomas yells. “If he’s crying in there, I expect the money to be slid under the door!”
Grant swears under his breath. Takes out his wallet. Quickly slides the money under the door.
“Ha!” Thomas says. “Told you he would.”
“You’re the worst,” Grant says.
“Why are you two always betting on me?” Christian asks.
Grant shrugs. “‘Cause it’s funny.”
“Hard to argue with that,” Skye says.
--
Skye had really thought the strangest thing she’d see all day would be teary Christian.
But she’d been wrong. She’d been so, so wrong.
Because Senator Christian is so much weirder.
It’s like he’s made of plastic with a string in his back. Not that Mother Ward is any better. Or Anna, even. Grant feels a little more lifelike, but he’s holding her hand. And Thomas is stoned, so at least there’s that.
“So,” the interviewer says, her recorder on and ready. “How did you two meet?”
“Skye was working on my campaign,” Christian says.
Even his voice is weird. It’s like someone’s typing his answers and he’s spitting them out.
“Oh?” the interviewer asks.
“Yes,” Christian says. Smiles. Smugly. “Skye had just been hired as an intern, and Grant and I were going for lunch. Unfortunately for me, he ended up taking Skye instead.”
Grant laughs. It sounds rehearsed. It’s on a cue.
This is crazytown. Skye is in crazytown.
“Does she still work for you?” the interviewer asks.
“She does,” Christian says. “She’s a passionate political activist.”
Well. That’s almost true.
“I find her passion inspiring,” Grant says. “She makes me want to be a better man.”
Thomas giggles at that. Skye is trying really hard not to.
“And how is everyone feeling about Grant having the first born?” the interviewer continues. “I’m sure plenty were expecting it to be Christian.”
Skye feels that’s completely out of line. But Christian and Anna don’t miss a beat. They keep their oddly saccharine smiles on. Glance at each other, just for a moment. “We need to focus on our marriage, first,” Anna says.
“We had a separation in the fall,” Christian says. “A brief one, that really taught us how to re-prioritize.”
“We’re certainly going to have children,” Anna says. Skye wonders if she could call it lying. “Just not for a little while.”
“What’s the point of having a child if we can’t stay together?” Christian says. “Besides, I’m not ready to divide my attention just yet.”
“I feel the same way,” Anna says. “I give all of my love to Christian, every day.”
“Completely understandable,” the interviewer says. “And Mrs. Ward, would you consider yourself ready to be a grandmother?”
Mother fakes a half-smile. “Of course,” she says. “We’re already a big family, and we couldn’t be happier to welcome another member of the Wards into the world.”
Lying bitch.
“And Skye,” the interviewer continues. “When will you and Grant be getting married?”
“After the baby is born,” Grant says. “We’d like the baby to be in all of our wedding photos.”
“We’ll be there,” the interviewer promises.
Of fucking course they will be.
“Yay,” Skye says.
Thomas bursts out laughing. Skye can taste Mother’s glare from here.
Oops.
--
“If I could drink, I would’ve,” Skye says, rubbing the makeup off her face. “Just to clarify.”
“We all would’ve,” Christian says, handing her another tissue. “Those things are a nightmare.”
“You did great though!” Grant says.
“Except for that end part,” Skye says. “My bad.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Grant says. “It was barely enough to go on.”
“At the very worst, they’ll make a snide little aside about you being sarcastic,” Christian says. “But at least everyone knows to recognize those from a mile away.”
“You’re all insane,” Skye says. “I’m hormonal as hell and I’m still saner than all of you.”
“Debatable,” Thomas says.
She smacks him on the arm. “Shut it, stoner.”
“You’re just jealous,” he says.
She ignores him. “It’s just freaky,” Skye says. “And what’s all that shit she asked Christian and Anna? Like, I don’t know how you guys were so nice about it.”
Anna wrinkles her nose. “That wasn’t nice.”
“I thought we were very aggressive,” Christian says.
Skye looks to Grant. “Are they being sarcastic or-”
“Nope,” Grant says.
“Dear Lord,” Skye says. “Someone save this baby.”
“Don’t say that,” Christian says. “The baby will be fine.”
“I don’t want them at my weeedding,” Skye says. “They’re gonna ruin it.”
She sniffles. Frick. Fuck. Now is not the time to have a hormone cry.
“And I just love Grant so much and I’m so horny,” she says. “And they’re jerks and they’re mean to stupid Christian and I hate them!”
She buries her face in Grant’s chest. So much for that.
“We’ll have a quiet little wedding,” Grant says. “Just all of us, not even Mother and Father if you don’t want.”
“We can have it in my yard, if you really wanted,” Christian says. “And then we can have the big fancy wedding for show. But you’ll know the meaningful wedding was private.”
Skye sniffles. “Is that what you did?”
“God no,” Christian says. “What am I, Thomas?”
“Just us and 500 of our closest friends,” Anna says. “The dress was Michael Cinco.”
Skye giggles, just a little. “Not Ralph?”
Anna shrugs. “My family has its own friends.”
“It sucks to be you guys,” Skye says. “Doesn’t it.”
“No,” Christian says. “It’s just a bit more difficult.”
“Thank you,” Skye says. “For protecting me.”
Grant hugs her tightly. “Always,” he says. “All of us.”
“Except Thomas,” Skye says. “Who got high.”
“Hey,” Thomas says. “I look bad so everyone else can look good.”
“And you like smoking weed,” Skye says.
“And I fucking love smoking weed,” Thomas says.
Skye laughs harder than she has all day. She’s got Grant to keep her up, and a family to protect her.
She laughs so hard her face hurts. And it feels good. It feels amazing.
And for a moment, just a moment, there’s movement in her stomach.
“Guys,” she says, quietly. “I think the baby just kicked.”
Christian starts crying again. But not as hard as Grant does.
And Skye thinks she’s probably got them both beat.
It feels amazing.