by Anna Bloom
“No, it hasn’t come on yet.”
I blinked and my eyes stung as though I’d leant into a cloud of noxious fumes. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry again.
The tears dropped anyway; I hated every damn one.
“Babe, come on. You don’t even know what he’s going to say.”
“He’ll say I was a mistake. And he’s right, it was all a terrible mistake.”
“Don’t watch it then, leave it.” I knew Molly spoke sense, but I knew I’d watch anyway; like a moth who flew too close to the lightbulb and singed its wings, I’d watch him tell everyone he’d made a terrible mistake in loving someone like me.
I tucked my knees to my chest, mainly to stop them shaking, and waited.
And waited.
Until his face filled the screen, and my chest took a punch from an invisible heavyweight boxer. A navy T-shirt and dark jeans replaced his prince uniform. Not that dissimilar to the travelling clothes he’d worn just days ago in King’s hospital with me.
He hurt to look at. Too beautiful. Painful, really.
I expected for him to make a statement and for it to be over. Instead the News at Ten anchor sat in a chair opposite him. They were in what looked like a study. I knew it wasn’t in his homes in Bermondsey or Guildford. I could only assume the future king sat within the family nest of St Mark’s Palace.
“It’s been an interesting few days for you, Prince Oliver?” The famous man, whose name I couldn’t remember, asked.
Oliver looked right at the camera, his bright eyes searching right into my soul. I couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to look away.
A million deaths waited for me in the words he had to say but I sat, ready, unable to turn my face.
I’d never be able to look away. I wished I had a chance to tell him. I should have told him.
Three simple words, I never said.
Two
“My behaviour the last few weeks has been unacceptable. It’s my deepest wish to apologise to the people who I have hurt.”
I winced as my stomach rolled like a loose cannon ball on the deck of a ship.
“The headlines are calling you arrogant, saying that you’ve abused your authority.”
Oliver dipped his head and ran his fingers through his dark hair. I don’t think the public had ever seen it tangled in that way before. When he lifted his face, I held in a gasp. He looked exhausted. Dark shadows lined his eyes and his olive skin seemed a tone paler than I remembered it being. I watched with almost desperate attention as his resolve sharpened in his gaze. “The last year has been difficult for me. I’ve made many errors within the last twelve months.”
"Why have you not spoken about your failed engagement publicly?"
Oliver's lips pressed together, but he didn't answer.
“And paying members of the public for their silence in recent weeks?”
“That was an error of judgement.”
“You don’t sound like you believe you were wrong.”
“I know when I’m wrong.” Oliver huffed a breath. “But my intention was just and heartfelt.”
“Can you elaborate?” The interviewer leaned forward.
“I’ve spent my life trying to keep myself private. I know it may not have always seemed that way, but I’ve always tried to keep my real self far from view.” He paused to take a breath again. “I thought I could maybe escape for a while, pretend to be someone I wasn’t.”
“Pretend to be anyone other than the future king of our country?”
A fleeting smile flashed across Oliver’s face. I’d said nearly this exact same thing to him myself.
“Maybe I just wanted to pretend that I wasn’t so different; that I could be normal.”
“Can your life be normal, Your Highness?”
Oliver paused while my heart bashed in my chest. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“And Miss Lawrence and her daughter and their treatment by the press?
I flinched at my name.
“I’ll never forgive myself.”
“For bringing someone underprepared into the limelight?”
“No.” Oliver’s response rang with fierceness. “No, I’ll never forgive myself for pretending to be someone I’m not. I'm appalled by the fact a six-year-old girl has been hurt in the process.”
“What happens now? Do you think you can win your people back? There are those who are saying you should step out of the line of succession.”
I held my breath. Oliver had offered me this very thing just the other morning.
“No. I will be a good king when the time comes. I will spend my time until then proving that to the people of the country.”
“And how will you do that?”
Oliver gazed at the camera for a long moment, his expression almost wistful. “By showing them who I am.”
“Will that be enough?”
He laughed then, the wonderful sound all but killing me.
“I can only hope.”
The interview ended and the small room of the seaside cottage hung with an oppressive silence.
“So what does that mean?” Molly asked as we watched one another until eventually she had to break the silence.
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Well hopefully it will mean he’ll stop bollocking up your life.” Patrick had slouched himself down in a faded, green velvet armchair.
My eyes flickered back to the screen and I allowed myself one long desperate moment to wallow. Within me I leashed and caged the monster of desire Oliver and I had created. Then I took a deep breath and jumped from the floor.
“Right. That’s enough of this. I’ve got to get Daisy better now.” I turned to Molly who watched me with an expectant gaze. “Is there a local shop? I’ll need to get some food and things for us.”
“Yeah, you aren’t going out there though, are you?”
By ‘out there’ she meant out in public, where people could stare at me, gawp at me open mouthed—the woman who couldn’t keep a prince.
“I can’t hide inside forever, and he just said himself, he did the wrong thing. It’s over. I think I can manage to get to a small local shop and buy some bread and baked beans.” I swallowed hard. “And anyway, isn’t this some small fishing village? I’m not waltzing down Oxford Street with the press on my tail.”
Molly’s face brightened with my renewed enthusiasm. The lack of tears streaming down my face giving her some reassurance. “Give it a couple of weeks, Leia, and you might be able to get back to work.”
“Let’s see,” I said, but inside I cringed. “That’s if they even want me back after what I did.”
“You mean secretly dating the heir to the throne for weeks without telling any of us?”
My internal cringe spread to my face. “Yes, that.”
I laughed as Molly rolled her eyes. “We’ve forgiven you, although Paula is desperate to know what he’s like in bed.”
Her words were meant as a joke, but little did she know the impact they would have on me. Loving Oliver had been my first brush with romance, with sex. Anything a normal twenty-two-year-old woman was meant to be capable of. He broke down my defences. Remembering it, I held in a shiver. Dragging in a deep breath, I locked it down, slammed it in a box and shut it in a deep drawer in the furthest edge of my brain.
I didn’t want to remember his touch or his kiss. Or the way his fingers grazed along my collarbone just before his lips touched mine. The brush of his thumb against my cheek.
Box. Locked. Tight.
“I’m not going to kiss and tell.”
I chuckled as Molly stuck her tongue out and we both turned as Patrick groaned loudly. “Can we stop this conversation?”
“Jealous?” I lifted an eyebrow.
“I have nothing to be jealous about,” he answered, standing and stretching from his slumped position in an armchair. “I know I’m far better than the little prince will ever be. It’s just a shame you didn’t trust me, Leia, instead of him.”
For one insane moment I nearly went to defend Oliver, but I held it back and bit back my words. “You’re right.”
“I’m still available.”
My cheeks flushed. “Thanks, but I think I’m done.”
“I’ll keep my schedule open to give you time to change your mind.” Patrick winked at me, but I just rolled my eyes in response. We’d had this conversation too many times over the years—to be fair to him I could understand why he was pissed with me now.
I stepped closer to where he stood on the rug and wrapped my arms around him tight. “Thanks for being a good friend.”
“Group hug!” Molly launched herself towards us and for an awkward half a minute we stood in a tight huddle. Until tears prickled my eyes again.
“Thanks, guys.”
The hug tightened until we all let go. Patrick fished his car key out of the front pocket of his jeans. “Molly, we’d better get back on the road if we are going to be home at a decent hour.”
“Already? You guys are going back to London now?”
“Sorry, Leia. Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to ask Janine if I can have a day off tomorrow?” Molly asked.
“No.” I straightened myself up. “Daisy will be up soon. Maybe if she’s feeling better, we can walk to shop together.”
Worry tightened Molly’s lips. “Oh that reminds me. I called Doctor Fenwick while you were asleep and he’ll pop around in the morning. I’ve written his number down and popped it on the coffee table, though he says any emergency call 999. I hope she’s going to be okay.”
“Molly. I won’t let anything hurt her. The doctors said she had to rest, eat small meals and let her body recuperate. I wouldn’t have taken her out of the hospital if she was still at risk.”
Molly bit her lips but held back from voicing her concerns.
“We will be fine, we just both need to rest.”
“Shall I go to the shop quickly in case you can’t get out?”
“It’s fine, guys. You need to get home safely. I’ll be okay.”
Molly hesitated. “What if the press finds you here? We won’t be able to help you.”
“No one will find me here, don’t worry. Just drive back safe. Text me when you get home.”
Molly nodded but she couldn’t hide her indecision. Patrick hugged me again, lingering for a moment longer than I wanted.
“Go.” Shit, I couldn’t stop the tears, they dripped down my face. “I’m going to be absolutely fine, I promise.”
Molly grabbed her bag. “Call me and I’ll come right back.”
Stupid tears. I brushed them off my sticky cheeks. “I will. But it will be fine. I’ll be back in London soon, I promise.” My lie slipped out easily. I didn’t think I’d ever be going back to my home town. Not for a long time. Not until the press had forgotten my name and the tabloids had sold all the stories they had on me. “Thanks for lending me the cottage.”
Patrick gave me a wave while Molly went for an extra tight hug.
“Go. I need to check on Daisy.” I waved them out of the front door and then closed it before they could witness the full-scale panic attack that threatened to consume me.
I was alone.
Again.
Daisy and I against the world together.
I turned for the stairs leading to the purple room containing the centre of my universe.
This was good. The sea air would help her. We’d get some time to heal our wounds and get ourselves back on track. Maybe Nana could come down at the weekend.
It was all good.
Just so long as I kept the lid locked tightly shut on that box containing my raw memories of Oliver. If I didn’t think about him, I’d survive this; after all, I’d survived worse. Far worse.
I’d barely drifted back off to sleep, my brain refusing to stop the news interview running around my head, when there was a knock on the door.
I checked Daisy again; she’d been asleep for hours now. I mean they'd told me to expect her to sleep a lot… but really? A stab twisted in my stomach. Should we have stayed at the hospital and embraced the media storm? Had I made the wrong choice?
The door knocked again, and I rushed down the stairs. My hand twisted the lock before I stopped myself. I shouldn’t open it. What if someone knew where I was? What if it was the press?
I shook my head at myself. No one knew where I was. I’d only been here for a few hours and hadn’t stepped outside yet.
Still.
I twisted the lock and then edged the door open a crack; just a slither so I could peer outside. I recognised the broad-shouldered body with its back turned to me almost as well as I’d recognise my own reflection in the mirror. He stared at the screen of his phone. It shone brightly in the dark night and I could see the message he read. My message, with the address of the cottage on it.
My heart stopped. Just dead in my chest.
“What are you doing here?”
He turned. If my heart had still been beating, my body still functioning in a normal manner, I’d have lost my breath.
Beautiful.
Oliver’s hands fell to his side, palms open. His forehead creased with a deep frown, but it couldn’t detract from the shadows under his eyes. “You gave me the address?”
“I didn’t think you were reading my texts.”
“I’m sorry.” His shoulders slumped.
He was here. He was here.
I nodded almost dumbly. “I texted you days ago. Told you I’d made a mistake, days ago.”
“Leia, can I come in?” His voice unravelled my soul, pulling it towards him. I wanted anger to fuel my fire, but instead the endless waves of exhaustion pulled at me. He looked as tired as I felt. I wondered if we fell into the sea of fatigue together whether we would survive. “Please.” His voice cracked and it forced my legs into an automatic reaction. I moved, almost mechanically. His tread as it fell through the doorway echoed with the beat of my heart. The old-fashioned lock on the front door clicked loudly.
“Where are your team?” I turned and asked, stopping us from moving away from the tiny entrance area. I knew Bill, his head of security, would be here somewhere. They were always somewhere, that was part of the problem—his lies, his need to control. He’d crossed a line I hadn’t even known I’d drawn.
“They aren’t here. I drove down by myself, I parked a couple of streets away.” He motioned his head towards ‘outside’ where any person on the street could have seen him walk along.
“Why?”
“Leia. Please.”
I remained frozen, stuck between walking further into the house and remaining close to the door. I wanted to ask him why he was here. Whether he still loved me, whether he forgave me for being so reactive and pushing him away. I wanted to shout at him for breaking my trust, for making me fall in love with him and then hurting me. I wanted to stab him numerous times with a sharp knife for paying my neighbours to keep quiet about his comings and goings. I didn’t fancy jail for it though.
I wanted to fall on the floor at his feet.
Instead, I folded my arms across my chest.
His dark gaze found mine and held it.
“I’ve thought up about a hundred different speeches I could say to you right now.” His lips curved into a wry smile.
I nodded and forced my legs to keep holding me up.
“But none of them are good enough. I failed you. Leia, and I’m sorry.”
“How did you fail me?” I wanted to hear it from him.
“Because I lied about who I was, who I could be. I tried to fit in with your life, and the things I did to do that are unforgivable.”
“They are.”
His face fell.
“So why are you here?” My words were stilted and I had to force each one out. I wanted to be in his arms. He was here. He’d come. Driven all the way by himself—for me, for us.
“Because I’m going to ask you to come into my life.”
My mouth fell open. “Have you seen what they a
re writing about me?”
“Yes.” His gaze didn’t falter. “But I know who you are. I know who I am, and I know what we can be. We can be everything they want. Everything we need.”
“Oliver.”
“No, wait.” He straightened up as though he knew to expect a fight. “You texted me from the hospital.”
“Days ago. I thought you’d come straight back. Daisy wanted you.”
“Did you want me?”
“You know I do.” The words forced their way out.
“Can you forgive me though, Leia? It’s killed me these last couple of days, being stuck in London, having so many meetings and crisis talks. Too many discussions. All I wanted to do was to come and find you.”
“Crisis talks?” I whispered. The three-day silence transformed into something else and my gut twisted in response. Had he been fighting for us while I ran away?
He shook his head, his gaze blazing. “Can I stay here with you?”
My legs shook so hard, I reached out for the wall behind me just in case I went down. I nodded.
“Leia. Your forgiveness?”
Jesus, did he want it right here by the front door?
“Oliver.”
His face fell. “I’ve left it too late. I should have found you straightaway. Should have fought harder.”
“Oliver.”
He snapped his attention back onto my face.
“I love you.”
His body relaxed instantly, sagging almost. His green gaze locked onto my face. “You do?”
I nodded, my words lodged in my throat.
“Even though I’m an utter dick?”
I laughed. The bloody bastard made me laugh. It was only a make or break moment in my entire universe…
“Even then.”
“Now I’m definitely going to stay.”
He shifted closer. His scent swirled around me, making my head spin like I’d had too much wine. Then he stopped and stared at me, his fingers sliding against my jaw, his thumb bushing my cheeks. I didn’t wait for him to kiss me. I kissed him. Reaching for him, tying myself to him. I might have been angry, but now I knew how missing him felt. I never wanted that again.
