Page 37 of Only One Tour Bus

He looks appropriately taken aback at my outburst. But not as deterred as I had hoped. “I can help,” he says gruffly.

“Say what now?” Was my sandwich rotten? Am I having a salmonella-induced hallucination?

“I can take the pictures, if you want. And of you, so they aren’t selfies. In the technical sense of the word.”

“But you’re morally opposed to photos.”

Callum rolls his eyes at me. “I’m not a monster. Sure, I don’t like photos when they interrupt my tours. We have more important things to be doing. But here, we’re on a break. We both already know a fair amount about this site’s history, and I’ve been to most of London’s museums. Some multiple times. So if you want the photos, I can take them.” He extends his hand out for my phone.

I’m still frozen by the offer, still half thinking I’m imagining it. “But you⁠—”

“Woman, do you want the photos taken or not?” Callum snaps at me, tired of having his offer questioned.

“Okay.” I hand the camera over with no more delay. This might be a once in a lifetime experience, like a comet that only comes around every seventy-five years, or me unpacking my suitcase the day I come back from a trip. I shouldn’t waste it.

“All right, get in front of the green bits.” Callum tries to direct me to the spots he thinks would make a good photo. “Maybe get on the bench. Look casual. No, casual. Not like you’re taking an undignified public nap.”

I follow his instructions in a daze, smiling when told, moving when he directs me, and trying not to laugh at his face, which is so serious and concerned about getting the best shot.

“Do you want to look at some of these? Make sure you don’t hate them all.”

“I’m sure they’re going to be perfect.” But I take the phone and swipe. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with touristy photos. “Hey, these are really good!”

“Told you I could take a simple picture,” he grumbles. He leans over my shoulder to look at them. “What do you want them for anyway?”

“To send to family, post on social media so friends and internet strangers know what I’m up to. Rob sometimes asks for photos for the website. As keepsakes of the time I visited St. Dunstan’s and had a nice picnic lunch. The same reason anyone takes photos.”

“But you didn’t get any pictures during our picnic.”

“Hmm. You’re right. How will I remember everything about this day?” I sneak into position, and then snap another stealth selfie of us both when Callum is least expecting it.

“Bloody hell! Stop taking photos when I’m not ready for them.”

“What are you, in witness protection? I wouldn’t post it without your permission.” Then I take in his words. “Wait. Does that mean you’ll stand still for a photo if I do the countdown?”

Callum sighs, very put upon considering I’m asking for a photo with a coworker and not for his kidney. “All right. Get in position.” He leans his face close to mine.

I flip the camera around and lift the phone, looking at the two of us on the screen. While he’s not smiling, he’s not exactly scowling either. But the rest of his face is neutral, not exuding negativity, and I think this is the best I’m going to get. I move the phone, and then slide closer to his side so we can get more of the greenery coming in through the window in the shot.

He reflexively extends an arm around me to steady us, which brings us even closer together. While I appreciate the move gives me even more of the ruins in the picture, my body is happy because his grip is strong at my waist and his chest is warm at my side, the position making me feel connected to him in a way I haven’t with anyone in a while.

Not just physically, but like we’re really partners.

It can be lonely carting around groups of people. Entering their lives for a few weeks, while they’re on vacation and I’m working, and then never seeing them again. And never home long enough to make a solid friend group.

I didn’t think I would feel a connection with a man who sees the world the exact opposite as I do.

“Have you taken the picture yet?” Callum asks out of the corner of his mouth. It’s adorable that he’s taking care not to ruin my picture.

I tap the screen. “Just one more, horizontal now.” I shift the phone as I feel the first drops of rain fall on my face. “Oh no.” I shift in Callum’s arms to look at him.

“An English summer day.” He nods at the camera. “Take your photos and let’s find somewhere inside.”

I do as commanded and we gather our things. “At least we got to eat the entire picnic. When I tried to organize a picnic for my first group in one of London’s parks, it started pouring, in summer, and we had to eat huddled under the umbrellas everyone just purchased.” That souvenir shop got a lot of business that day. And had to clean a lot of water off their floor.

“You didn’t stop the picnic?”

“I didn’t know where to take them that was inside and let in food. I offered to let everyone take as much lunch as they wanted and flee to find shelter, but some decided to stay and get the full London experience.”