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Piper sighs. “Yes and no. It’s been amazing here. It’s the first time we’ve done anything like this since…”
“Since I moved to the island,” Harrison finishes. “It’s hard to find staff on the island, so I’ve been reluctant to leave the bakery. But now I’ve found a worker I can really trust. Hopefully she’ll still be there when we return.”
“And I’m looking forward to fall and being back in the classroom,” Piper says. “New year, new students, the fall fair, pumpkin spice everything. But I have to say, it’s been so nice to just be overseas, in a big city, seeing life through other people’s eyes, you know? Sometimes I start to feel closed in if I stay on the island for too long. Like I can’t think clearly, like I don’t have a lot of freedom to be…me.”
Even though I’ve never lived on an island, I know exactly what she’s talking about. The feeling of being caged, of not being able to be your true self.
“What about you?” I ask Harrison. “Island life affecting you the same way?”
He manages a small smile, his gaze focused on Piper and soft with affection. “Not at all. It was good to come back to Mother England, but I don’t feel closed in, not with her by my side.”
“Aw, come on, mate,” James says with a derisive laugh. “No one wants to hear how happy you are.”
He’s right about that. Don’t get me wrong, Piper is adorable and Harrison is the strong, silent, sexy type, and I’m happy for them because they’re very clearly in love. But sometimes when I’m around happy couples, it just reminds me of how I’ll probably never have that in my life.
Harrison scoffs at James. “Right, as if you aren’t breaking women’s hearts left and right every time you come to the city.”
James rolls his eyes at that, but Piper stiffens up beside me, and I can tell she’s attempting to kick Harrison under the table, as if I shouldn’t hear about this. I mean, I don’t care what James does, though I never gave much thought to who he was seeing when he went into the city. I guess the guy does date, he just doesn’t bring them home.
I shift in my seat and plaster on a smile to hide the strange prick of jealousy in my gut, just as the waitress returns with the much-needed drinks.
We all toast bon voyage to Piper and Harrison, and the rest of the dinner flows nicely. Between bites of cacio e pepe and the heavenly burrata salad, I feel my shoulders drop, a weight lifted. It feels like I actually have friends, and the more I dwell on that the more I grow warm inside. It makes me want to open up, to ask them silly questions, to relax and let my guard down a little.
But I manage to keep myself in check, and though I want to drink more than just the Aperol Spritz, I limit myself to one.
When the meal is done we walk Piper and Harrison to the tube (she was insistent on taking it one last time, who knows why) and say our goodbyes. They tell us they’ll be back soon, which I doubt, and if either James or I want a real vacation, we should come visit them in Canada, but I doubt that too, unless Eddie and Monica decide to go.
Then they’re gone and it’s just James and me outside the Knightsbridge station. The rain I smelled earlier feels close, an electric charge to the breeze, signaling change.
“I think it’s going to rain,” I tell him.
“We better go inside a pub,” he says with a grin.
I sigh. “I should really get back home. I promised Monica I’d be in bed early. Hell, you promised her that.”
“Yes, early. Early in the morning,” James corrects, his eyes glinting in the city lights.
I laugh. “I’m not dancing on any tables, remember?”
He takes a step closer to me just as a fat drop of rain bounces off my nose. “Ah, I knew you were a glutton for punishment, Laila.”
“What do you mean?”
“Accompanying me out to drink, when you said you were going to bed early.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything,” I tell him as the rain starts to come down steadily. I really need him to ring up Charles and get the car to come get us.
“Come on,” he says, his voice lower and more seductive than it was a second ago. “Let’s go have a pint.”
I look at him, his eyes on me, his expression enticing. Damn, he is a persistent one. “I really should go back. And you should too.”
“Why?” he asks, and as he does so, he takes his suit jacket off and holds it over me to shield me from the rain.
Okay. If that’s not the most chivalrous gesture, then I don’t know what is. Is he purposely trying to make me swoon, or is this really him?
“We,” I begin, trying to find the right words, “shouldn’t fraternize.”
“Fraternize?” he repeats, taking another step closer until his energy engulfs me and I’m pretty much pressed up against him. “What century are you from?”
