The Ambassador Ch 11
He knocked on the door with a lot of hesistancy, pulling at the T-shirt he wasn't using to wearing. Just a normal man, coming to visit some friends, with a hat and sunglasses on.
The little girl that answered the door couldn't have been more than four years old, "Caio."
The man had to blink, a surge of longing for the little girl in front of him, "Is your mother here?"
The little girl tilted her head in a way that made her look very much like her mother, "You speak mama's language."
It was a clear statement, not a question, and the man had to remember that English was not the standard language here.
"Edylinna! What have I told you about answering the door by yourself?" a man appeared behind the girl.
"He speaks mama's language! And he doesn't have a camera!" Edylinna defended herself.
The dark haired man sighed before looking at the visitor, "Maxon?"
"Hi, Benedict." was all he could say, not taking his eyes off the girl who had wrapped her arms around her father's leg.
Ben looked down at the little girl as well, "Why don't you come inside? Ami's not home yet, but she should be here soon."
The little girl got excited, "TO take me to football?"
"Yes, to take you to football. Go and get ready."
Edy was up the stairs before anyone could blink.
Ben led Maxon inside, "Would you like some wine? A beer?"
"NO. No, thanks."
He was still looking up the stairs as if Edy would return and smile at him again. Or that maybe someone else would.
In the kitchen, two small boys ate a mid-day snack, one dark haired and the other light haired. A TV blared a kids show from the next room. A toddler with a slab of dark hair sat in a highchair, throwing food more than eating it. The whole thing was so…normal, like someone could pick it out of a TV sitcom and plop it right into the kitchen. The two boys stopped arguing over something to turn and look at the stranger. Ben offered Maxon a seat after cleaning up Edy's snack. MAxon sat next to the light-haired boy, who immediately offered him a piece of strawberry.
Maxon took it and ate it. The boy seemed satisfied that the man held no danger and went back to his own snack.
"I have to say: I'm surprised you're here." Ben said, handing Maxon a glass of water.
"I'm just as surprised as you."
Ben's eyebrows rose, "Yeah? Why do you say that?"
"I didn't imagine myself in this predicament. When I was younger…I…"
"We all thought we'd be in different places. I thought I would be parading around Europe still an eligible batchelor. Now, my oldest is five and my youngest is still on the way. Ami saw herself as a Six in a different country. You…well, I can see your point is all I'm saying."
"Kriss is pregnant," MAxon said, his eyes sliding to the light-haired boy beside him.
"Well, that's great. You all have been married, what? Seven years?"
"Yeah."
"Sounds like it's been a long time coming, especially for Royals."
"I suppose so."
Ben frowned, "You don't sound very happy about it."
"I guess I am?"
Ben tilted his head, "I think it's time for the boys to get ready for football, what do you think?"
The question was an obvious one: did Maxon want the little boy that looked exactly like him to be in the room when they talked about this? Ben wasn't going to take the kids away from him unless Maxon didn't want them to hear the conversation.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think it's time."
"Boys, go on up and get ready for football. Your mama's going to be home soon."
The boys jumped to the ground and raced off together to join their sister upstairs. They did not notice Maxon's stare as they left.
"Maxon?" Ben brought the man's attention back to him, "Why are you not happy? Kids are great."
"Kids are. But, watching Kriss…."
"It's different from hearing it," Ben nodded.
"When you all talk of America's pregnancies, she seemed so…full of life."
"She was. She is. She's very happy during them and full of energy. She's up before the sun rises and doesn't go to bed well after midnight. It's after the pregnancies that it's bad."
"She got post-partum again?" Maxon looked at the toddler, still siting in the high-chair, content to smash a bowl on the table.
"Yeah. Not as bad as with Nicollo, but…it was certainly there."
"And she still wanted another baby?"
Ben hummed, "You know how stubborn America is. She really wants a red-head to carry on the Singer legacy. She really wants just one red-headed boy so that she can name him Shalom after her father. All of these Italian names, and then Shalom."
They both laughed.
"And you didn't try to stop her? Tell her it's not good for her?"
"She persuaded me. My job is to take care of her, but it's also to make her happy. If she wants to honor her father…I'm not going to stop her. I never met him, but I know how much he meant to her."
"I met him once. She is the exact copy of him. The same easy humor. The same friendliness. The same charisma."
Ben nodded thoughtfully, "America's not like that a lot any more. Sometimes when she's with Marlee I'll see it. When she's with Celeste I definitely see it. She reminds me more of her mother now. Always worried and looking for something that's going to harm her children, real or imaginary." He shrugged, "Maybe that's just how mothers work."
"Maybe."
"How is Kriss?"
"Always tired. Moody. Bitter that I did this to her."
Ben laughed, "Sounds right to me."
"I guess. It just feels…wrong. When she told me, she was so excited, like it would fix everything between us and…it didn't. Now that she's realized that she's scared."
"Just like you are?"
"I don't know how to be a dad. For God's sake I didn't even want her kids." Maxon shook his head, throwing his hat on the table before running his fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't be having this conversation. Especially with you."
"Because you wanted America's kids. Not Kriss'."
Maxon remained silent.
Ben nodded, looking everywhere except at Maxon, "I understand. She's a hard woman to love. Even harder to learn not to love. I once told her that you would get over her, but even then I knew it wasn't true. No one ever fully gets over her. Truthfully, you were the stronger man."
"How so?"
"You left her. When she cheated on you and you found out, you broke off the engagement. I can't do that. I can't leave her."
"You did."
"For two months. And when I knew she needed help I ran right back into her arms."
"You have a family with her."
"In a way, don't you too?"
Maxon looked down at his lap, "I gave them up."
"You gave them up because she made you."
Maxon peered at him, "You don't sound happy about that."
"I'm happy about it because I got two more kids out of it. It was the last thing I really needed to start forgiving her. But for you: no, I wasn't happy about it. Those kids will grow up not knowing who made them, and they'll always have to wonder if the rumors are true. We can't tell them the truth, not without endangering your line of succession, but they will see the similarities every time they pull up a picture of you. She forced you out of their lives, but you'll never be truly out of it. There will always be rumors."
"She didn't force me out of anything. I let myself out of it."
"And let me guess why: for her?"
Maxon swallowed, "I guess. At least partially. She just looked so worried and scared, and after what I had done to her with the reporters…. And it was partially for them, so they didn't have to have two dads and two countries and two royal lines. But it was mostly for me. To clear away the guilt I felt for…everything."
"She's got us wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?" Ben asked.
"Always will," Maxon's voice sounded bitter. "You could still leave her without any backlash from the public."
"I could."
"Please don't." Maxon pleaded.
The two men looked at each other for a long minute before they heard the front door open.
In Italian America said, "I'm home!"
There was a mad scramble of kids rushing to greet her and she smiled, kissing each on the head.
Ben stood up to greet his wife, kissing her softly, "Maxon's here."
"I'm sorry, who?" But then she saw him, their eyes meeting just like they always had. She looked different than she had during the Selection. She had aged nicely, but having four kids and another on the way had changed her. Beyond the small bump on her stomach, she seemed shorter, almost like she had shrunk to let her children grow. Worry lines stood ever present on her forehead and around her eyes. Carrying around four children had added some weight to her and her eyes seemed both tired and alert. But that wasn't the biggest change in her that Maxon could see. She looked at him with predatory calmness. It was a calculating look, one that told him she was not happy to have him in her house, near her children, and talking to her husband.
"We've been talking," Ben said, trying to kill the awkwardness that had pierced even through the children's joy of having their mother home.
The driver of the car came up the sidewalk with America's briefcase in hand, and America looked over her shoulder at him, "Guiseppe, I wonder if you wouldn't mind taking the kids to football by yourself. And then maybe getting them some gelato on the way home? My treat."
"Of course, ma'am."
The kids, ecstatic at the thought of football and gelato raced to the car, kicking the black and white ball between them on the way.
The door closed ever-so-softly behind them.
(*&*)?
"What is going on here?" I asked, my voice staying as soft as I could make it. I took off my work jacket and threw it over my briefcase before quietly walking past them both into the kitchen.
"Nothing." Ben said, "I told you. We've just been talking."
I rounded on them suddenly, unable to control my rage anymore, "God damn it! Why are you here?!"
Maxon swallowed roughly, "I don't know."
"You don't know? You don't know?! Jesus, you had a damn twelve hour flight and you don't know why you're here?!"
"Kriss is pregnant." Maxon looked down at my stomach and I pressed a protective hand over it.
"What does that have to do with us?"
"I'm so sorry," Maxon said, stepping back towards the door. He looked to Ben, but Ben didn't see it. He was too busy watching me.
He was always watching me now.
"Get out." I said.
"I just came to talk," Maxon raised his hands.
"I thought you didn't know why you came! Get out! I won't have you coming around here and sparking rumors again. I don't need another rush of reporters outside! Not when the twins can understand them now!"
"I never meant to-."
"Don't even finish, Maxon! Whatever you meant to do, or didn't mean to do, it doesn't matter. You still did it."
Maxon stilled, "Is that the same thing that you tell yourself when you feel guilty that you cheated on your husband? That you didn't mean to, but that doesn't matter? Because you still did it?"
I was shaking now, "Get! Out!"
I pushed on him, shoving him towards the door. My toddler wailed behind me, upset because everyone else was upset, but I didn't listen to him. I kept pushing and pushing until he was out of my house, and hopefully out of my life.
(*&*)?
The next house guest was another one that I wasn't expecting, but I knew she was my reckoning. She came a week after her son, knocking on the door so softly that I almost didn't hear it.
We stared at each other for a long moment when I answered the door, before she droke the tension, "I didn't know if you were going to be home or not."
"The baby was kicking all last night. Ben wanted me to stay home and get some rest."
"That was sweet of him," she said, stepping into the house.
"Yes. He is sweet."
"And a good father?"
"The best."
We stayed quiet for a second, her surveying me and me not knowing what to do.
"Would you—Would you like something to eat?"
"That would be nice, thank you."
I led her into the kitchen, trying to think of what to give her. What to give a queen. Ben's mother had been to dinner with us, obviously, but she was family. Queen Amberley, as much as I had once wished her to be, was not.
"Anything is fine, dear," she said, sitting at the table.
"Some fruit? I can cut some up."
"Perfect."
I washed my hands before grabbing the fruit out of the fridge.
"I have to be honest, dear," Queen Amberley began, "I am not here on the most friendly of terms."
I nodded, "I figured."
"You see, America—or, I'm sorry, do most people call you Ami now?"
I swallowed, "America is fine."
"Well, you see, America, I live by a very simple rule: Fool me once, good for you. Fool me twice, and never again."
I took out the cutting board as she continued, "So, when you cheated on Maxon, I thought it was just clouded judgement. But, then you cheated on your own husband. And brought my boy into the fray as well."
I leaned against the counter, my face turned away from her.
"Well. What can I say? That's twice. And you don't get a second chance from me. But, let me be clear, America. I am not here to talk to a mother. I am here to talk to the woman who not only risked her own marriage, but my son's as well."
"Why now?"
"Why now? You've got to be joking. You kick him out when he is trying to do the right thing, trying to do penance to your family for what happened and you don't think you'll have to answer for it?"
"He put my kids in danger."
"Why don't you think of someone else besides your children for one God-damned second."
I twirled around, shocked at the words that came out of her mouth.
"His marriage-."
"I don't care about his marriage!"
She laughed, "Oh, but don't you? Isn't there something in you that is thrilled that his marriage is in shambles? That you wrecked his world? I saw it in your eyes when you came to his wedding. The ultimate pay-back for him not picking you was to make him miserable. And isn't it ironic that the same thing leaving his marriage in shambles is the thing you did to make him not choose you?"
"I didn't realize that, but now that you mention it: yeah, that does make me happier."
"You've turned into one sick woman, haven't you, America?"
"I did what I had to do for the twins."
"Oh, but this has been going on long before that, hasn't it? Going to the wedding, getting the Italians on your side, even those pictures of you telling Maxon to shape up. How much did you pay the reporter to take those pictures? The ones that made him lose his job."
I slouched against the counter, "Fifty thousand. And his wife a new heart."
"Jesus Christ, America. Since when do you play God?"
"I wasn't. I was doing him a favor."
"Bull shit. You've done whatever you could to rationalize what you've done. Getting Marlee to Italy was kind of you. Too bad it will sacrifice ten years' worth of Eights dying to pay for it."
"Stop."
"No, dear. I won't." She stood up, taking the knife away from me and cutting up the fruit herself. I leaned on the counter to help support myself.
"You've got a lot to pay for, darling. How unfortunate is it that no one will find out about your transgressions. Unless…"
"What do you want?"
"I want you to do what's right, America. I want you to own up to what you did. I want you to know that I know what you did to my son. I want you to pay, just like you thought Maxon should. Don't make my son the bad guy, dear. The only bad guy here is you."
"It takes two to make a kid, Amberley. Your precious son is just as guilty as I am."
"I understand that he's guilty. He's paying for that. He's also paying for sending those reporters after you. I'm not blaming you for his part. Or for protecting your kids. I'm blaming you for intentionally trying to destroy my son's life."
She put the fruit in the bowl, "Tell me, dear, truthfully: did you marry Benedict because he made you happy? Or because marrying him would show Maxon that you could succeed? That it didn't matter if he married you or not, you would still be royalty?"
"What does it matter to you?" I snapped.
"Because that would mean you threw two men under the bus instead of one. You may have hurt Maxon, but if you married Benedict without loving him, you have hurt him more. So, tell me: do you, or do you not, love Prince Benedict?"
I walked slowly to the table, using whatever I could find for support. I sat down heavily in the chair, "He was a surprise. A curve ball I didn't see coming. I had this whole plan, a plan to wreck MAxon as best as I could. But then he came along. And he made me smile with all of his antics and jokes. I fell for him before I knew what was happening. It was so sudden and so deep," I shook my head, "I didn't think it was possible after Maxon. To fall in love with someone just as deeply, just as passionately. He made me put all my plans on hold. But sometimes… sometimes that want, that need, to ruin him came back."
She took a dep breath, "Congratulations, America. You've ruined everyone."
She stepped towards the door, before stopping and turning, "Don't forget, dear. It's the people we love the most that we can hurt the most."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I have a feeling that you already know."
And then she was gone.