"I'm just sitting out here," I say. "You can come out too, if you'd like."
It takes twenty minutes for the door to screech open, and a big green eye, two feet off the ground, peeks round. "Oh. You still here," she says, flatly.
"Still here, lovely girl," replies Renna, holding out a small piece of flapjack. I smile as Poppy creeps the door open a little wider and edges forward. She's no different from my Ren; so easily bribed by food. Ever so tentatively, she takes it from Renna's small fingers and nibbles on it, watching us through puffy eyes.
"Poppy, my love, I know you've had a bad week," I start, and she sits cross-legged opposite us in the doorway to her room. "I'm really sorry we didn't choose the right family for you." Guilt twists my stomach. They seemed fucking perfect for her, the man was a carpenter and the woman a healer. They had a grown-up son. They even had a cat, which she was so excited for.
I let her down.
"I cried too much," she says, her tone dejected. "It was as-and-."
"An accident?" Offers Renna, and Poppy nods.
"It's not your fault, at all," explains my almost-wife, as Poppy shuffles back an inch. "Not at all. They just didn't have enough spare love for someone else right now."
"I know this is a lot to think about, but we'd love to take you home to our house," I offer, after a deep breath.
"For apple pie?" She asks, quietly.
"Well, yes, for apple pie, but also for forever."
I see it in her eyes. The temptation, then the worry, then the decision that it isn't worth the pain when we send her back. "I come for apple pie, then I go back here."
She's just like Renna.We eat and then we leaveis Ren’s catchphrase. "If coming for apple pie today is what you'd like, we'll do just that. But when you're ready to think about it, we'd love you to be ours."
"I would... I would stay with you?" She asks, intrigue written on her tear-stained face.
"Forever."
"With a bed?"
"With a bedroom, and a nice bathroom too. And we have some big gardens," I explain, as she takes it all in.
"How long for?"
"Forever. For lots and lots and lots of years," says Renna, handing her another flapjack.
"Would you be my daddy?" She asks me, looking at me as if the question means nothing at all, and suddenly I'm swallowing the emotion in my throat.
"Well, yes. But you don't have to say that. You can keep calling me Rexxan forever if you like. And Renna would be your mother, but you can just say Renna if that's nicer for you." Her eyes move to Renna, and to the box of biscuits she's holding. "Poppy, I would trust Renna with my life. She is my best friend in the world. I'd never let you near her if I didn't think she'd be nice to you."
"How long for?" She asks again.
I stand up, brushing the dust off my hands. "I tell you what, let's go have some apple pie at our house. We can think about all of this later?" I suggest, and Poppy nods.
We wait in the doorway as she walks back to her bed, her shoulders slumped. She folds up her pyjamas and tucks a toy bear into her floor bed. When she grabs a tiny square of blanket from her small bag, I recognise it immediately. It's the cloak I laid over her after she escaped the floods, cut and sewn into a neat square as a comfort blanket. I stare at the ceiling in a bid not to get emotional, and we step aside to let her out of her room.
She crawls backward down the stairs, each one a big jump down, and Elle appears with a bright smile. "Are you going out?" She asks, and Poppy nods.
"For some apple pie," I say, plucking her boots off the shelf. She tugs them on, holding her foot out in my direction for me to do the laces.
* * *
At the privateentrance in our palace gardens, we eventually convince Poppy off the horse with the promise of another go later. When we walk into our wing of the palace, she freezes in terror at the sight of the eight guards guarding the door to our apartments. Renna distracts her, opening a bag of raisins and handing one to Poppy who follows her like a dog after a scrap of dinner.
I'm struck by a feeling I so rarely feel;fear. Fear that Poppy won't want to be here, won't want to be adopted by the King, won't want to be adopted by me. Now that it's dangling in front of me; my wife chatting away to my potential daughter, I want this so fucking much.
But I know better than anyone that to be the child of a King is hard, and I need to get Poppy to understand my situation fully before I can let her say yes.
