Twenty-two
Fiona Fallon
The next week passed by in a blur. It was all arrangements for the Royal Investiture. The day of, I was picked up around the back by Oliver. “Well,” he said, “ya look stunnin’, Fiona.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile.
He kissed my cheek, then opened the door for me. “Everythin’ alright?”
I took a deep breath. “What do ya mean?”
“Have ya had anymore trouble? With Gordon?” He was wearing a chic, sapphire blue suit with sunglasses complete with a traditional Scottish kilt.
I shook my head. “No. I mean, he wasn’t really given me trouble before.”
“What was he doin’ before, then?” Oliver asked.
“I told ya,” I said, “just sayin’ hi.”
He frowned. “Well. Ya let me know if he gives ya anymore.”
“Oliver, that’s very s
