Chapter 6 #2
turns to me—me, the only Black woman in the room—and asks if my family follows all the Christmas traditions.” Joy raised an eyebrow. “I
mean.”
“What did you say?” Lauren asked.
“I told him we celebrate just like every other family at the holidays: We leave out a mince pie and milk for Santa, eat and
drink too much, watch Home Alone, and fight over the last purple Quality Street.” Joy shook her head then frowned at one of the menu signs. “What on earth
is ‘Eve’s pudding and cream’? Who’s Eve?”
“Even Harriet was glaring at Harold during the meeting, did you see?” Lauren asked, passing Joy some silverware wrapped in
a napkin.
“Oh thank you,” Joy replied. “And bless Hattie. Maybe we can put her in charge of him for a bit? Just, you know, see if the
whole Grim Reaper thing is true?”
Lauren couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re terrible. C’mon, let’s find a seat.”
Joy cackled in response. “I know. No, no, not over there, that’s where the garden party ladies sit.
” She nodded toward a group of older women who all looked like they were wearing the same flower-printed curtains that Lauren had had in her bedroom when she was six.
“Let’s go over here. So what are you going to do with His so-called Royal Fineness, hmm? ”
“I’m just going to let the tabloids do their thing,” Lauren said. “I don’t think he’s even seen the coverage, and by the time
it dies down, it’ll be Christmas o’clock and we can restart the news cycle all over again. No, not over there. That’s where
the bagpiper who wakes up the Queen each morning sits.”
“Aww, he’s harmless, though. Always sits by himself, poor lad.” Still, Joy followed Lauren toward an empty seat. “Those photos
of the duke were pretty nice,” Joy said. “Maybe I want to marry a sheep farmer now.”
“Let’s hope the rest of the country is also feeling the same way,” Lauren replied, finally setting her tray down at the empty
table. “Is that man over there wearing a cape?”
Joy didn’t even look behind her. “Probably, that’s one of the Royal Collection chaps. They got their PhD in seventeenth-century
ceramics or something like that and now they either work here or the checkouts at Tesco’s.”
Lauren laughed and then glanced at her phone as a text appeared on the screen. “Oh God.”
“What?”
Lauren looked at Joy. “Do you remember the thing we agreed to not discuss at work?”
“Of course I do, it was my idea.”
“It wants to meet for coffee in an hour.”
Oscar was already sitting inside the homey New Acre coffee shop tucked inside Westminster Chapel when Lauren arrived.
She waved hello to him as she ordered her own drink, then made her way across the quiet café toward him, feeling a little more awkward with every step.
Oscar hadn’t been the first drunken hook-up in her life, but he was definitely the first guy who wanted to meet up the day after, and Lauren was secretly grateful that the barista took an exceptionally long time making her oat milk latte.
“Hey,” Oscar said, standing up a little as she sat down. “Thanks for meeting me so quickly.”
“Of course,” Lauren said. “Is everything okay? Did you have a story that I have to publicly deny but privately confirm?” She
had been joking, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. “Wait, please tell me that’s not the
case.”
“No, no, this isn’t work related,” Oscar said. “I just thought we should . . . talk.”
“Talk,” Lauren repeated.
“You know, about last night,” Oscar said.
“Ah.” She glanced down at the disappearing foam on her latte before looking back at him. The flat patch on the back of his
head was giving overslept vibes, but he still looked unfairly handsome and put-together. “Well, I had a good time,” she finally
said. “Let a little steam out of the kettle, as they say.”
“They do say that.” Oscar nodded as he fiddled with his pain au chocolat. “And I know we were both drinking, so I also wanted . . .”
A lightbulb went on in Lauren’s head.
“Oh!” she said. “No, I was fine. Well, I mean, I wasn’t fine, I was pretty toasted, but no regrets at all.” She reached over and put her hand on his. “Seriously. I’m good. I had fun.
We should do it again sometime.”
Oscar grinned. “We should do a proper date.”
“A date?” Lauren repeated. It was one thing to toss back some tequila and make out with a reporter, but a date? Joy had warned
her about this exact thing last night, and Lauren wondered how close to the line she could get without crossing it.
“I took it too far, didn’t I?” Oscar said, holding up his hands.
“No, no, I like dates!” Lauren said. “But I think I need to go a little slow for now. You heard about my last relationship,
I told you all about it last night. I think? Sorry about that, by the way.”
“I’m glad you told me,” he said, and something about the sincerity sent another rush of warmth through Lauren. “The reporter
in me loves facts.”
“Well then, the fact is that I got hurt. A lot.” Now it was Oscar’s turn to put his hand over hers, his palm both soft and
cold. “I need a lot more runway before my next flight, so to speak. Plus I just started at the Palace barely four weeks ago,
and if it got out that I was dating a reporter . . .”
“You’d be the story.” Oscar finished the sentence for her.
“Let me get through Christmas,” Lauren said. “I feel like I’m restacking blocks into a tower after another kid knocked them
down. I need a little bit more of a foundation before I start adding turrets.”
“That’s a hell of a metaphor.”
“Thank you.”
“What about a cheeky snog here and there, though?”
Lauren laughed at his question, as did he. “Look, last night wasn’t my worst Thanksgiving,” she said. “You’re good. We’re
good.” She paused as both of their phones buzzed with identical social media notifications about the Duke of Exeter being
spotted biking around London.
“Breaking news,” Oscar said sarcastically. “I’m telling you, there is nothing happening behind that guy’s eyes.”
“Excellent,” Lauren said.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I didn’t think it was. You have a crumb.” She reached to flick it away from the corner of his mouth just as he did the same,
their fingertips brushing before Lauren pulled her hand away.
“I don’t care if the only thing in the duke’s head is Taylor Swift on a constant loop,” Lauren said. “We’re not asking him
to solve the climate crisis. We just need people to like him and want to know more about him and the work he plans to do.”
“So he’s making his grand public debut at Balmoral? Can I run that now?”
“He will indeed. And no, you can’t. You’ll see him at the Christmas Day church service this year and then we’re heading down—”
Oscar pointed a finger in the air as he sipped the last of his coffee.
“—up to Balmoral.”
“See, that’s an easy one for him, though,” he remarked. “Christmas is just everyone funneling into the chapel, wearing great
coats and smiling, and then all the rest of it is completely away from the cameras.”
“Gee, it’s almost like I’m good at my job.” Lauren smirked. “And you can send any complaints, in writing, to Her Majesty the
Queen herself.”
“Well, try not to use too many big words when you speak with him. There’s a reason he surrounded himself with sheep and not
humans in New Zealand this whole time.”
“Everyone loves a second act,” Lauren countered, tapping on the notification just to make sure the paparazzi hadn’t been following
him around the capital.
“Do they?” Oscar asked, a grin on his face. “Care to share any personal anecdotes about that?”
Lauren pretended to throw her paper napkin at him, even though she was smiling. “You’re the reporter,” she said. “Do your
research. Go get those facts you love so much.”
“Oh, I think I’ve gotten a pretty good start,” he replied.
His phone buzzed again, and he glanced down, his warm brown eyes scanning over the screen. He was getting the little frown
lines he got when trying to take in a lot of information at once—Lauren had seen it happen at their weekly press conferences,
and she hated how cute she found it.
She didn’t hate it so much now.
“Ah, I gotta go,” he said as his phone pinged again, grabbing his bag from the bench and starting to stand up. “Just been
asked to cover an event.” He held up his phone to show what looked like a PDF invite for a movie premiere in Leicester Square.
“The showbiz editor is out of town, and I have to fill in for them for a few things.”
“Ooh, hold the front page.” Lauren smiled, but then caught her breath when Oscar leaned down to kiss her cheek goodbye.