Page 179 of A Convenient Secret
“Correction, actually: I never knew happiness like this exists.”
“Daddy,” Zoya yells from downstairs.
“They are kissing again,” Zach responds, and I giggle into Declan’s chest.
“Fuck, I guess it’s waffles time,” he groans.
The sun filters through the trees, casting golden light over the park. The air is crisp but not cold, the kind of perfect London day that makes everything feel soft and unhurried.
Zoya and Zach run ahead, their laughter bright and carefree as they chase each other toward the Round Pond, their giggles mixing with the distant sounds of ducks splashing.
Declan’s hand is warm, his fingers lacing through mine. Weeks later, and these quiet moments still feel surreal to me.
“Have you decided what to do about Tim?” Declan asks. He’s been impatiently patient about the topic.
“I spoke to my father and the lawyers.”
“And?”
“And he will be dealt with.”
“Publicly, legally?”
“He won’t be a threat to us anymore. Or to the company.”
Declan makes a clicking sound of displeasure. “I should have dealt with him myself,” he mumbles.
“Thank you.” I turn to kiss him.
“For what?”
“For allowing me to take my time and fix it myself. For providing me with the evidence, and for protecting me while giving me the space to stand up for myself.”
He grunts like he isn’t happy with the situation, but hugs me tighter, which makes me smile. We’re a work in progress. But we’re together.
“Can we find whewe the pwincess lives?” Zoya shouts.
I wave at her. “Okay, this way.”
“I can’t believe I was worried about them adapting to a new place.” Declan abandons the former topic.
“I think their home is where you are.” I look at him sideways. “How are you adapting?”
I know I have nothing to fear, but I still wonder if him moving so fast won’t put a strain on our relationship.
“My home is where you and the kids are. And I didn’t realize how much I love starting something new.”
I scoot closer, leaning my head against his shoulder.
“It doesn’t look like a castle.” Zoya wrinkles her nose, assessing the Kensington royal residence skeptically.
“This is her city residence; they have castles, don’t worry.” I chuckle. “But if you’re ready to have hot chocolate and scones, we can go to the Orangery where queens used to hold their parties.”
“Yes.” She claps.
“For real?” Zach frowns.
I nod, and we head over to the Orangery when one of our bodyguards approaches. “Sir, Ma’am, reporters are ahead of us. Probably not for you, but I wanted you to be aware.”
