Page 60 of Scandal Queen

Gizmo launched at Oliver and he scooped to pick him up. “Isabella said he smelled too bad to stay in the palace with her anymore.”

Daisy reached for Gizmo. My parental mode switched on and I put my hand out to stop her. “Tight chest today?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nooo, Muumuum.”

“Have you needed a pump?”

“Nooooo.”

Oliver laughed and then just gave her the damn dog anyway. “Leia, the allergy tests came back clear.”

“I know.”

I shuddered, my deeply contained memories of that fateful day at King’s Hospital working their way free of their box for a moment. I locked them back quick.

Gizmo licked all over Daisy’s face. Ugh.

I went to say something, but Oliver caught my hand and pulled me through the small sitting room. Size wise it was on a par with my Finsbury house. A small space, albeit it with nice sofas. He pointed to a door and I stepped over and poked my head through, finding a small cottage-style kitchen, and my Bad-Assy mug sat by the kettle.

“Did you give the keys back to the housing association?”

Oliver watched me thoughtfully. “No. I figured you might want to, and of course I didn’t want to presume.”

“Someone else will need that house though, won’t they? Maybe someone like me, who has nothing.”

I had far from nothing now. And I didn’t mean the flat screen television, or the beautiful furniture, or even my shitty Ikea sideboard which now stood in an idyllic cottage with my old picture frames on it. I had so much more, because the air I breathed I now shared with him, with my daughter who giggled and wrestled with a smelly Yorkshire terrier.

Daisy looked over. She hadn’t gone to search for her new bedroom, and I knew without a doubt she’d been in on this the whole time. “Harrods was a decoy I’m guessing?”

They shared a glance that made me go all gooey inside. “The removal men took longer than expected.” Oliver had no shame, his expression bold and determined.

“Fine.” I wiped at my face again.

“Mummy, Nanny Margi says to never allow your true emotion to show.”

I chuckled, watery and a whole lot of pathetic. “I think I might struggle with that.”

Oliver’s eyes burned bright. “That’s why I love you.” He leant over and gave me a swift but firm kiss on my mouth. A kiss that shouted everything I needed to hear.

“Oh, I made this for the fridge.” Daisy went to where her school bag sat by the wooden front door and pulled out a piece of paper. On it she’d drawn the three of us, all of us holding hands. Oliver’s head bore a crown and in his hand he held a sceptre—ahaha! I remembered that damn word.

Daisy and I and the man who would one day be king.

I took it and went to the fridge where the magnets which had been on our fridge at the old house sat. I stuck it on and then looked around the kitchen. “No staff you say?”

“Nope.” His grin grew wider and I nibbled on my lower lip.

“You know I can’t cook, right?”

The grin stretched and we both said at once. “Toasted sandwiches.”

Daisy gave a shout which set Gizmo off barking—bloody hell that dog had got a yap.

“You like it?” Oliver pulled me close, our skin brushing together and making me shiver with warm waves.

“I truly do.” I hesitated. “But I wasn’t anti-living in the palace, I just want to make that clear.”

“I know.” He peppered kisses along my cheek, his leg sliding between my knees. “But I can appreciate when I’m wrong. I shouldn’t have expected you to just fit in.”