Contest entry for the May to December Romance Contest
Title: Holiday
Rating: M
Summary:What do you do when your life has stalled out? When you feel stuck, stagnant? Bella decides going abroad alone is the answer. But a bathroom door with no lock and a hankering for coffee where there's only tea, just might make her solo trip turn into an adventure for two.
Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.
Where does someone go on a vacation by themselves?
The melancholy I've been drowning in lately is back, and the thought of going somewhere without Seth is killing me. I know he needs time with his dad, and I could use some time to clear my head, but it doesn't make it any easier.
He's only been gone two days, and I already miss him like crazy.
Looking around the quiet, empty house, I know there is no other choice than to get the hell out of here. I'll go crazier than I already am if I stick around. There's only so much house to clean and books to read. Besides, every book I own is a fucking romance novel, and I don't need that shit.
And no, I'm not bitter. Just resolved. The only men I need in my life are Seth and Jake.
I continue to scroll through flights and destinations, randomly plugging information into search engines, when a website for house rentals pops up. I don't need a house. It's just me. But the idea of spending weeks in a hotel seems even more depressing than my current situation. Maybe a loft apartment? That could be cozy. Maybe in a busy city? That might be a good distraction. With lots of museums. I love museums.
Oooooo… Paris.
I've always wanted to go to Paris. But who goes to a city associated with love right after a divorce? A masochist. That's who. And that ain't me.
I scroll a bit more, even bringing up Pinterest and browsing the pictures associated with "holiday" and "vacation destinations", but nothing calls out to me.
Sam hates to travel. Probably because of what he does for a living, but we didn't even have a honeymoon, for crying out loud. Three days in Pittsburgh while he covered baseball games does not count. The life of a sports writer isn't as glamorous as one might think, and it especially isn't for the spouse of a sports writer. Especially when that sports writer bags a babe in every city he's in, and said spouse finds out by trying to surprise him for their anniversary in one of those said cities.
My nails dig into the palms of my hands as my fists clench. I blow out a deep breath, willing myself to forget. When I tip my wine glass up to try to wash down the bad memories, it's bone dry.
And so is the bottle sitting next to me.
I guess that's my cue to call it a night.
Closing the laptop, I look over at Jake and ask him if he's ready to go to bed. His lazy stretch and yawn is all the answer I need. Of course, Jake sleeps about twenty hours a day, so he's always ready for bed.
"You're such a good boy. You don't sleep around, and you're always loyal. Could be because I had your balls cut off." I talk to the dog. So what? "Sorry about that, by the way." He looks up at me with his big chocolate brown eyes and wags his fluffy tail. "Have I ever told you how you used to piss on everything in the house? Well, you did. So, off with the balls." I sigh, climbing into bed and waiting on Jake to take his place beside me.
In less than five minutes, Jake is snoring, and I'm left staring into the darkness. This used to be my sanctuary, but now… it's just a sad reminder of what once was… and the fact that I'm alone. Sure, I have Seth, and I love him more than anything in the whole entire world, but I miss adult companionship. And sex. I really miss sex.
***H***
"Bella!" my boss's voice booms into the room. "I thought you were going to be on vacation for the next month." The way the words ooze from his mouth lets me know he's not happy to see me here. I should've guessed he'd be pissed, but it's irrational. What boss wants their employee to be gone for a month?
"Mr. Sanders, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me." I don't lift my head from my work, continuing to plug numbers into the spreadsheet I've been working on all morning. "Is there something I should know?" I ask when he doesn't say anything.
Looking up, I see his brows pinched together, and he's pulling at his tie. He's frustrated. I know those signs well.
"Listen, you've been through a lot. You need some time off. And besides all of that, you haven't taken a vacation since you've been here. Do you know how bad that makes me look to HR?"
"Well, I'll send them a memo and tell them I'm the one who chooses not to take a vacation. I'm sure that'll clear up any misunderstandings."
"Bella."
"Fine."
"Just take a month off, blow some vacation days, get refreshed, and come back ready to work."
"It's easier said than done."
"I'm sure there's somewhere you'd like to go… just you."
"That's the problem. I don't want to be that far away from Seth."
"You and I both know that Sam will take good care of him. He might not be a good husband, but he's a good dad. Besides, Seth is ten. He's practically grown."
"He's still my baby."
"He'll be fine. And so will we."
"Promise to miss me while I'm gone?"
"Of course."
***H***
"Flight 1901 to London is now boarding."
I watch as people begin to line up according to their seat numbers. Families. Couples.
My good ol' friend, loneliness, is sitting right beside me, but I shake him off and remind myself that I'll soon be in London. I'm hoping this trip does me some good and I'll be able to clear my head and enjoy myself.
"Seats D1 through D25."
I should've flown first-class.
Once I'm seated and securely fastened in between two burly men, with zero elbow room, I pop in my earbuds and turn on an audiobook to give me something else to think about, or at least some background noise to fall asleep to, for the next ten hours. I chose Chelsea Handler's book, Are You There God? It's Me, Vodka.
I love vodka. Maybe I should've gone to Russia.
I also love wine.
I'm an equal opportunity drinker.
One of the many things I love about this audiobook is that it's read by Chelsea. Win. I hate audiobooks where the characters are read by someone who sounds nothing like what I pictured the characters to sound like. Total mind-fuck.
Up until a few months ago, I had been married for twelve years and a mom for the last ten. I can count on one hand the times in the last twelve years when I've just done what I want to do… only worrying about myself.
After thirty minutes or so of over-analyzing audiobooks, thinking of all the things I want to do once I land, and sort of paying attention to Chelsea, I drift off to sleep.
***H***
"Hey, Mom."
I knew this call was inevitable. My parents are freaking out because I'm traveling internationally alone. Apparently, it's unsafe and irresponsible.
"Are you being careful?"
"Yes, Mother."
"I know you're grown and can do and go as you please, but it doesn't mean I don't worry about you."
"I'm thirty-five. I've been married, had a kid, got a divorce… I think I can handle a trip across the pond."
"Don't use that tone with me. Your father and I just worry, that's all. So, where are you staying again?"
"I'm renting a room in a flat in Notting Hill."
"So you're not staying in a hotel? Is that safe?"
I look around at my meager accommodations—a double bed, small chest of drawers, and a nightstand with a lamp. It's definitely not The Ritz… or even the Holiday Inn… but it'll do. I just need a bed to sleep in and somewhere to shower. I don't plan on spending much time indoors. I brought my journal and my camera. I want to see London—watch some theater, browse old book stores, sit in a café for hours… reading or doing absolutely nothing.
"It's fine, Mother."
"Are there other people staying there?"
"Well, I'm sure there are. I got in late last night, so I came straight here, and my hostess showed me to my room."
"And by hostess, you mean…"
"A woman. Yes."
She's being ridiculous. It's what she does best. We sit in silence on the phone for a few minutes—her probably stewing over my careless attitude and me stewing over her need to hover.
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, baby. Be safe out there! Don't talk to strange men… or men in general. Oh, and Bella, honey, whatever you do, have fun. I really do want you to enjoy yourself. I just don't understand why you couldn't have found a quaint little place to do that within the continental United States…"
Oh, brother. Here we go again.
"OK, Mom! Hanging up now. I love you. Tell Dad I love him and to not worry. I brought my mace."
I make one more quick phone call to check on Seth but try to keep it short and sweet. For one, my phone bill will be outrageous, and for two, I don't want Seth to get sad that I'm so far away. I figure I'll go with the out-of-sight, out-of-mind strategy, but he sounds like he's having fun and is totally distracted by the remote control car his dad bought him. Way too busy to talk to his old mom. Hearing him happy makes me happy but also a little sad, because I miss him something terrible.
Pulling out my notebook, I look through the different travel notes I made on the plane—things I want to do and see—and try to get a game plan for the day. Once again, I'm hit with that feeling of realizing I'm alone… and free… and it feels good.
I grab a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and my toiletries and head to the community bathroom that the hostess showed me last night. Fortunately for me, it's just across the hall from my room.
I knock on the door, but no one says anything. Just to make sure, I press my ear to the wood. I can't hear anything, so I crack it open and peek in. How embarrassing would it be to walk in on a complete stranger and then have to see them for the next three weeks? Seeing that it's unoccupied, I go in and start the shower. The knobs are weird, so it takes me a few minutes to figure everything out and get the temperature right. Before I undress, I go to lock the door but realize there isn't a lock, just a tiny brass knob. I crouch down and look for a button or something… anything that would secure the door shut, but there isn't anything. I stand there for a second, staring down at the knob, and then back at the shower. I decide to hang a hand towel on the outside of the door to signal that someone is in here.
That worked when I was in college. Surely it's a universal sign.
I finally undress and hop in the shower, making quick work of washing my hair and getting rid of the stench of airplanes and travel. The small bathroom begins to steam up, and I decide I'm clean enough, so I shut off the water and reach for the towel, but it's not where I left it. I blindly feel around just outside of the curtain where I know I left my towel hanging, when it suddenly appears out of thin air, pushed into my hand by an unknown force.
Startled, I quickly pull the shower curtain back and see green eyes staring back at me.
"Looking for this?"
Completely caught off guard, I squeal like a little girl and yank the shower curtain closed.
A melodic laugh fills the small space, and it's deep but boyish.
"Did you not see the towel?" I'm somewhat perturbed at this point, and the fact he's laughing pisses me off. Are there not common courtesies this side of the Atlantic?
"I was just grabbing my bag that I left earlier. My apologies." There's still humor and mirth in his tone. I can tell he doesn't think it's a big deal that he just saw me half-naked.
"You should knock! Or say something! Are you some kind of ninja? I didn't even hear you come in!"
He laughs before replying. "Again, I'm sorry. Won't happen again. From now on, I'll know that a towel on the door knob means a beautiful lady is in the shower."
My mouth twists as I try to hide my smile and the blush on my cheeks. I'm even more thankful for the shower curtain between us.
"Thank you." I can't really remember the last time someone called me beautiful.
I hear the door shut a few seconds later and decide it's okay to come out of hiding. Pulling the curtain back an inch, I see I'm alone, so I hurry out of the shower, dry off, and dress in record-setting time.
After my hair is dry and I've loaded my backpack with everything I feel like I'll need for the day, I creep into the hallway. The thought of meeting those green eyes from the bathroom puts me on edge a little. I know, in the grand scheme of things, it's not that big of a deal, but I'd still prefer to not be faced with my peeping Tom any time soon.
The stairs creak as I walk down. Listening carefully, I try to get my boundaries. I can hear a television on in some part of the small house, but I don't hear anyone talking. The woman who welcomed me last night was sweet and inviting. She made me feel right at home… and old. She's probably barely in her twenties—a young, fresh thing—and I assume she owns this place. She seemed light-hearted and free-spirited. Her long brown hair was hanging loosely down her back in a braid, and her big brown eyes were bright and full of life. Her name is Alice, and I could've talked to her all night. I've always been a sucker for an English accent.
I do a little shimmy on the last step as reality hits me. I'm in London! I'm staying in a flat in Notting Hill. I don't have an alarm clock or a curfew. I'm not answering to anyone or in charge of anybody. It's just me. Me and…
Shit.
"Hello, again." The silky voice from the bathroom greets me as I turn toward the kitchen. "Could I interest you in a cuppa?" he asks in a fake English accent, holding out a tiny tea cup with his pinky out.
I can't help but smile and laugh.
"I'm sorry again for barging in on you like that this morning." He sets his tea cup on the counter and brushes the crumbs of toast off his pants. "I'm Edward Cullen," he says, sticking out his hand for me to shake.
"Bella," I say in return, taking his hand.
His hair is tucked under a beanie, but I can tell it's an auburn color and somewhat long, and those green eyes… I think they're what get me. But as we lock eyes, I know that he's young, like really young. If it weren't for the bit of scruff on his face, he'd probably look more his age. Nineteen? Maybe twenty?
I swallow deeply at the feeling in the pit of my stomach when our stare-off lasts longer than necessary.
I'm probably old enough to be his mother.
If I were sleeping around when I was fifteen.
I could've been sleeping around when I was fifteen.
He probably wasn't even born when I was fifteen!
"Nice to meet you." I slowly retrieve my hand and reach for a mug for some coffee. Looking around, all I see are tea bags and not a coffee pot in sight. "No coffee?" I ask, feeling my mood drop a little.
"Uh, no. Alice doesn't have a coffee pot. And by the look on your face, I'd guess instant is out?"
"Yeah, no to instant. It tastes like shit."
"I thought you'd say that." He smiles, and it's sly and sexy, making my stomach do a flip.
Stop it, Bella!
"There's a great little bistro down the block. I could show you where it's at if you'd like. I was just getting ready to head out for the day."
I should say no. I should definitely say no.
"Sure. That'd be great." I smile and nod, tossing my backpack over my shoulder.
I watch as he rinses his cup out and puts it on the sideboard by the sink. He has a backpack of his own that he picks up by the front door. His jeans are faded and worn, and he's wearing a tattered Green Peace shirt that looks like it came from the '70s.
You know, the decade in which I was born.
"So, what brings you to London?" I ask as we close the front door behind us and walk out into the sunshine.
"A little holiday," he replies casually as we continue to walk. "How about you?"
"Same."
"Alone?"
"Yes. You?"
"Yep."
It's a beautiful summer day, and I'm hit with the same excitement from earlier. The sidewalk ahead makes me feel like I'm looking through a kaleidoscope—each door we pass a different color, baskets of flowers hanging from some of the windows, and funny little cars lined along the street. I feel like pinching myself again.
"Do you travel a lot by yourself?"
"No. This is a first for me. How about you?"
"This is my second time backpacking across Europe. I was over here for about a month after I graduated high school a few years ago. I loved it so much, I came back. Seemed like a good thing to do to help me clear my head and figure out what I want to do before I graduate from college."
"So you're what? Twenty?"
"Twenty-one. Just had a birthday last month."
At least he's legal.
Stop it, Bella!
"What brought you here?"
"Like you, I needed to get away and clear my head."
"Are you in college?"
The laughter that erupts out of me is over the top, but I can't help it. I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and rest my hands on my knees until I can catch my breath. The absurdity of the morning must be catching up with me, along with the bit of jet lag and lack of coffee. I'm laughing like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have. "Ah, I needed that. Thank you."
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, only that I was probably in college while you were still in diapers."
Now, he's the one stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "Stop." He says the word like I'm pulling his leg. "You can't be that old."
Yeah, that old. Thanks for the reality check, stud muffin.
"I didn't mean it like that!" His hands come up and grip my shoulders. I want to tell him to stop touching me, but something about him—those green eyes, his honesty, and sincerity—makes me let my guard down. It's so weird because I just met him, but I feel like he's an old friend.
"I only meant that you don't look a day over twenty...one...twenty-one," he says, the same smile from earlier playing on his lips. "I mean, twenty-one is where it's at."
"Yeah, sure."
He slowly lets go of me, and we begin to walk again.
"I'm serious."
"Thanks."
"So you're not twenty-one?" he asks playfully.
"No, definitely not twenty-one. I barely remember what I was doing when I was twenty-one."
"Do you mind if I ask how old you are?"
"No. Age is just a number," I tell him, shrugging my shoulders, because that's usually how I feel. I never let age bother me or really give it much thought. So I don't know why I am right now. "I'm thirty-five."
We let that sink in as we finish making our way down the street.
The place Edward takes me to is so perfect. It's exactly what I'd imagined in my mind—white tables and chairs out on the sidewalk, large openings into the bistro, hanging baskets with flowers, and the rich smells of breakfast coming from inside.
"You've had coffee here before?" I ask as we sit at one of the tables out on the sidewalk.
"Yeah, I like tea, but I've gotta get my coffee fix. There's actually a Starbucks not far from here I can show you later, but I thought for your first morning in Notting Hill, you'd like it to be authentic. Besides, this place has a great full English breakfast."
It's like he knows me. "Thanks for bringing me here. I'm sure you have your own agenda for the day, so don't feel like you've gotta stick around."
"Actually, I just take every day as it comes. I don't really make an agenda or a schedule. Just whatever I feel like doing when I wake up, that's what I do. And if an opportunity presents itself, I jump on it."
The way those words leave his mouth make me want to jump on him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Besides being sexy, entirely too sexy for his age, I like the way he looks at things. I've always been drawn to the free-spirited. I think I see it as something I lack, so I crave it in other people. I'm trying to be more like that… less planning, more living.
I don't remember guys being this confident and sexy when I was twenty-one.
I just smile over at him.
He pulls some sunglasses out of his backpack and puts them on.
Oh, fuck. I might need to excuse myself for some alone time.
"What did you wake up feeling like doing today?" I ask.
"I didn't really have anything in mind until I saw you." His boldness is startling. Does he mean what I think he means? No. I'm sure my sex-deprived self is now making things up. Perhaps I'm hallucinating… or maybe it's a dream? Maybe I'm still on the plane sleeping, and I haven't even landed in London yet? Yeah, that's it.
"Bella?"
Snapping out of my crazy inner thoughts, I look up at him and decide if I'm dreaming, I don't want to wake up.
"Sorry."
"Sophie here wants to take your order." He smiles again, glancing down and over the top of his sunglasses, but pointing up to a young girl waiting patiently.
I feel completely mortified that I'm having these crazy thoughts and didn't even see our waitress walk up to the table. My face is hot, and I'm flustered, completely unnerved by the man… boy… guy… boy-man sitting across from me.
"I'll have a coffee and the full English breakfast. And a water, please."
I busy myself with people-watching while I try to regain my composure. This is crazy. I'm a grown-ass woman. I need to start acting like it and quit tripping over some young guy who probably views me as his mom now that he knows how old I am.
"Beautiful."
Edward speaking across the table pulls me out of my reverie. "What?" I ask, unsure of what I heard.
He coughs into his hand, but behind it is a smile that pushes his cheeks up into his sunglasses.
"I said, it's beautiful today."
"Yes, it is. I don't know why, but I'm surprised. In my mind, I pictured it to be grayer, foggier… maybe a mist in the air."
He laughs lightly, sitting forward and resting his elbows on the table. "Yeah, I think a lot of people do. I'm not sure how much truth is behind this, but I heard that Londoners have tried really hard to cut down on the air pollution, and that's helped with the fog that used to blanket the city."
"You sure seem to know a lot." I wasn't thinking about my words in a sexual manner before they left my mouth, but as soon as they're out, my mind takes a sharp turn to Gutterville.
I wonder how much he knows. Surely he's not a virgin. Sexy guy like him. Full of charm and charisma. A smile that could melt Mother Teresa's panties.
Oh, my God. What is wrong with me? Now, I'm bringing religion into this. Stop it, Bella!
"Well, I'm a good listener."
"I can see that." I will the blush off my cheeks and think about dead puppies and bad coffee… anything to get my mind off of Edward naked.
"And I like to learn random facts. I guess if I was more passionate about one specific thing, it'd be easier to decide what I want to do after college."
"I guess the best advice I ever got was to go with your gut. Don't overthink it. But, more than anything, do what makes you happy, even if that means you won't have the highest-paying, most glamorous job."
"That's good advice."
"I've been around the block a time or two."
"Oh, really?" he asks, his eyebrows shooting up over the top of his glasses. "Well, that's good to know."
"No! Not like that!" Laughing into my hands so that I can hide the embarrassment on my face, I don't see when the waitress walks back up with our food. Suddenly, a whiff of deliciousness hits my nose, and my mouth is salivating. Uncovering my face, I look down to a plate overflowing with sausage and eggs… and things I'm not exactly certain of… but it all smells amazing.
"Can I get you anything else?" The cute waitress looks over at Edward. I can see that I'm not the only one he has this effect on. His sex appeal crosses over the generations. The poor girl looks like she's in a trance. I feel bad for her, so I try to come to her rescue.
"This all smells amazing. Do you think we could have a refill on coffee?" I ask, holding up my half-empty mug.
"Oh, yes, of course." She scurries off toward the café, nearly running into the table behind us due to the way she's staring unashamedly at the gorgeous person across from me.
"Do you have that effect on all the ladies?"
"I don't know what you mean." Edward's already equipped with a knife and fork and is cutting into his breakfast. As he pops a bite into his mouth, his lips closing around the fork, I find myself in a trance a lot like our waitress—mouth slightly open, eyes glazed over.
"How's your breakfast?"
"Oh, uh, good." I look down at my untouched food and take a bite, moaning when the rich flavors touch my tongue.
I notice Edward watching me, and I know that somehow I've got to get a grip on my rampant, irrational thoughts.
I'm sure after breakfast, Edward will be off doing what twenty-one-year-olds do, and I'll be able to get back to my itinerary and let whatever this is go.
It's ridiculous. That's what it is.
***H***
"Are you having fun, Mom?"
"Yes, baby. I'm having a great time!"
"Have you met any London people?" Seth's voice is so chipper, and I feel proud, knowing he's handling our separation so well. If he wasn't happy and having fun, there's no way I'd be able to enjoy myself. And I'm definitely enjoying myself.
"Yes, I've met a few people."
"Like real Londoners?"
"Yes, real Londoners." I laugh into the phone. I miss him so much.
"What're their names?"
"I'm staying with Alice. Well, renting one of her rooms. And she's from here."
"Does she sound like Harry Potter?"
Giggling, I nod my head and answer, "Yes. Well, actually, more like Hermione."
His laugh echoes through the phone, and I wish I could bottle it up and carry it with me. I sigh at the thought, wishing he was with me.
"You OK, mom?" Always in tune with how I'm feeling and wise beyond his ten years.
"Yeah, I'm good, buddy. Just miss you."
"I miss you too, but I'll see you soon."
"Yeah, a few more weeks. Think you can make it without me that long?"
He draws a deep breath, putting on the theatrics. "I don't know. I might forget to brush my teeth… or wear dirty socks."
"Haha. Funny, buddy. Listen, I've gotta go. Be good for your dad, and brush your teeth!" I say the last line louder and more pronounced.
"OK, Mom. I love you!"
"I love you too, buddy, more than the moon and stars!"
And just that fast, he's gone. The phone call ends, and I can picture him off running, on to the next game or adventure.
Speaking of adventure, I spread the map out on my bed and decide where I'm going to go today.
The last few days have been a lot like the first, except I've tried to limit myself on the time I spend with Edward, but the crazy thing is, I really enjoy his company. He's funny, and we have a lot in common. He likes art. I like art. He's a sucker for theater. So am I. He enjoys finding a new pub every night for dinner, and so do I. It's hard to find reasons to not hang out with him, but I don't want him to feel like I'm tagging along or a hinderance to what he'd normally be doing had we not met.
There's a knock at my door.
"Yes?" I call, continuing to look over the map.
When I hear the door creak open, I look up to find Edward standing there in a gray t-shirt and loose-fitting jeans and, of course, his beanie. As much as I love the way he looks, I'd love to see what his hair looks like under there.
"Hey," he says.
"Hello."
"What are your plans for the day?"
"I'm just trying to figure it out." I smile at him, thinking about what he told me on the first day. "Someone wise once said they wait to see what they feel like doing when they wake up. So I'm trying to take that approach."
"Oh, a wise person, huh?"
I nod, smiling up at him.
"So, what do you feel like doing today?" he asks, changing his words.
"I'm feeling like a stroll to Portobello, maybe stopping in a few antique shops along the way. I definitely want to stop in Alice's shop. Oh, and I saw this cool bookstore the other day that only sells cookbooks!" I feel myself getting excited thinking about the day, my motions becoming more animated.
"Sounds cool. Do you like to cook?"
"I do, actually, especially when I have the time."
"I heard you in here yelling at someone to brush their teeth earlier. Do you often give yourself those sorts of pep talks in the morning?" He smiles slyly, quirking an eyebrow.
I laugh at the mental image. "No, I was talking to Seth."
"Who's Seth?" he asks, his features morphing into something more serious.
"He's my son." I can't believe I haven't mentioned him until now, but truthfully, there hasn't been a chance to bring him up.
Edward's genuine smile returns, brightening up his face. "Cool. How old is he?"
"Ten, going on thirty."
"I bet he's a cool kid."
"The coolest."
"Of course he is. You're his mom."
I smile widely, turning my face back to the map. I'm not sure why, but that compliment hits me harder than the first day when he called me beautiful. "Thanks."
"You feel like company today?"
"Edward, don't feel obligated to show me around. I think I've got this thing figured out," I tell him, holding up the map. Like I said, Edward and I have been going our separate ways quite a bit. Yesterday, he went to Camden and went to a concert with some of his friends from college who are also traveling abroad. I took the tube over to a couple of museums and kept myself busy with books and sightseeing. I've come to realize I could be here for two months and still not have time to do everything I want to do. I feel like I could come back again and again and see a completely different city every time.
"I want to."
We sit there for a few seconds, no words exchanged between us, just quiet understanding.
We enjoy each other's company.
***H***
Walking down the street, starting our adventure for the day, I can feel the happiness and expectancy radiating off of Edward. The way he looks at life and approaches each day is inspiring… and, if I'm being honest with myself, intoxicating… addictive. In a matter of days, I've found myself completely enamored by him, wanting to be in his company. That thought leaves me with the one that crossed my mind the other day when I watched the girl at the bookstore practically stalk Edward through the entire store. She even followed us out onto the sidewalk but then trailed off when she realized we were headed back to the flat. I'm pretty sure if I hadn't said anything, he would've been oblivious.
"So," I begin, folding my arms in front of me. "Do you have a girlfriend back home?"
"Uh, no. I did have a girlfriend for a while, but we just wanted different things, and we broke it off about six months ago."
"Ah, different things. Irreconcilable differences." Those words have a little bite to them as I repeat what my lawyer claimed would be the grounds for mine and Sam's divorce. Me, being me, and not wanting to fight, agreed to it. But he knows it's bullshit, and I know it's bullshit. Everyone knows it's bullshit. And I guess that's enough for me.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he laughs, cocking his head in my direction.
"That's what my ex-husband claimed when we filed for a divorce."
"And was it? Irreconcilable?" he asks, his voice holding some hopefulness or something I couldn't quite place.
"It was so irreconcilable, that wasn't even the word for it." The thought of Sam and his infidelity brings an unwelcome black cloud over my head.
"Do you mind me asking what happened?"
I sigh and take a deep breath. There are still some days that I haven't quite wrapped my head around everything that happened. If someone would've told me twelve years ago that Sam would cheat on me, I wouldn't have believed them. But deep down, I know that our marriage was over long before the ink on the divorce papers dried. In a lot of ways, we were just better off friends.
"You don't have to answer that. I'm sorry for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong." I look over to see him pulling his beanie off of his head and stuffing it in his back pocket. My breath catches in my throat as he brushes his hair back with his fingers, shaking it out and allowing it to fall into disarray.
Beautiful.
The word actually almost leaves my mouth before I catch myself, but he is. From the unique coloring of his hair to his strong jaw line, he's something to behold.
"What?" he asks, his eye shining with his smile.
"Nothing," I lie, because even though I know what I feel, I also know that it's crazy. "And I don't mind answering your question. Sam cheated on me. He's a sports reporter, and let's just say he hit a homerun in every city he went to."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Edward asks, anger laced in his tone.
We're now standing in the middle of the sidewalk as Edward looks at me with disbelief.
"I wouldn't lie about something like that."
"No, I know you wouldn't. I just can't believe… I mean, he has you at home, and he does that? It just doesn't compute." His jaw is set tight, green eyes ablaze. "Besides, my sister was married to a cheating douchebag. I have zero tolerance for shit like that."
"I have a zero tolerance policy, too."
"Just one more thing we have in common."
"Yeah."
"I'm really sorry he did that to you."
"Shit happens. It sucks, but I got the best part of him."
He slowly smiles when he realizes what I mean by that. "Seth."
"Seth."
"No regrets, then?"
"Definitely not. I think everything happens for a reason."
"Me too."
We smile at each other, knowing that once again, we're on the same page.
***H***
As Edward and I walk out of the theater, talking nonstop about the independent film we just watched, I look down at my watch and see it's after two o'clock in the morning. We had opted for a double feature, but I didn't realize it would finish so late… or early.
"What should we do now?" Edward asks, walking close enough beside me that our arms are touching.
"It's two in the morning, so I guess we should head back to the flat," I say, laughing lightly, feeling so carefree and oddly energetic. Maybe it's London. Maybe it's the caffeine from the soda Edward and I shared at the theater. Maybe it's Edward.
"Oh, but the night is young," he says, taking my hand and pulling me across the empty street.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see! Are you hungry?"
I think for a second, trying to remember when we ate last. It's been a while. "I could eat."
"Good." The smile on his face is full of mischief and mystery. He doesn't let go of my hand as he leads me down the quiet streets of Notting Hill. We don't stop until we get to the entrance to the subway.
"Do you have a pass?" he asks, pulling out his wallet.
"Yes." I pull mine out of my backpack and swipe it. Unsure of where we're going, but full of excitement and anticipation, I regain Edward's hand and hold on tight.
During the ride on the tube, Edward pulls me close into him. There are a few questionable late-night passengers riding with us, but never once do I feel uneasy. Something about Edward's close proximity settles my mind but also ignites a flame inside me.
When we arrive at the café, Edward places his palm flat on the small of my back and ushers me inside. The café isn't empty like I thought it'd be, but it's not crowded… perfect, actually. We sit in a corner booth, both of us sliding in toward the middle.
"What's good?"
Edward begins to animatedly tell me how amazing their New York Dog is, but I can't bring myself to order a New York Dog while I'm in London, so I opt for something more local—double dipped chips and beer battered haddock.
As we eat, conversation flows.
One minute we're talking about movies, and the next, we're discussing our favorite books.
Edward's parents have been married for thirty years, and his dad is considerably older than his mom. He was her professor in college. Scandalous. Listening to Edward talk about their whirlwind romance makes me a little weepy. But I can't help it. The love is so evident, even in the words of their son. They should be proud.
Edward's sister, Rosalie, is twenty-five and is engaged to be married again next spring to one of Edward's best friends from high school. Emmett is four years younger than Rosalie. Edward has threatened his life and his manhood if he ever steps out on his sister, but I can tell from the way he talks about Emmett that he trusts him.
"What about your parents?" he asks, stealing chips off my plate.
"Renee and Charlie." I nod my head. "They're your traditional parents. They married young but have always been in love. I thought the same would happen to me. I figured I'd find that one person right off the bat, marry him, and live happily ever after. I think the divorce was harder on my parents than it was me… or Seth. Actually, Seth has handled it the best."
Edward nods his head, listening intently. I love that about him. He always feels so present… living in the moment. He's not like most twenty-somethings these days, where his phone is glued to his hand. Actually, I think I've only seen him take it out a few times, and it's usually to take a picture of something.
"Were they OK with you traveling abroad by yourself?"
I laugh into my napkin. "Absolutely not! My mom had a fit. She couldn't understand why I couldn't find a nice place to vacation within the continental United States."
We sit there so long that my butt is numb by the time we pay and leave the café.
"Do you think you feel up to a little something else?" he asks, quirking his eyebrow.
I pause for a second, looking down at my watch once again and seeing that it's almost five in the morning.
"Come on," he coaxes, but I don't need any convincing. I already know my answer.
"Sure."
My agreement puts the biggest smile on his face, and he assures me that I'm not going to regret this.
I already know that.
We walk for a while, taking a couple of turns down blocks, until the familiar landmark comes into view. Trafalgar Square. I haven't had a chance to mark it off my bucket list, so I'm feeling a little giddy about being here. Although, I never expected to visit it before dawn. The fountains aren't even turned on yet. It's serene. The pools of water are like mirrored glass. We're the only people around. It's breathtaking.
"Been here yet?" he asks as we get closer.
"No… I haven't. It's gorgeous."
"I was thinking the same thing," he says, but his eyes are trained on me instead of the enormous fountains. "You're gorgeous."
I'm taken aback once again by his boldness. There are guys twice his age who fail in this category, never knowing what to say to a woman or when to say it.
Edward's timing is impeccable.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel awkward."
"No, don't be sorry. It's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a really long time." I feel my heartbeat speed up and swallow thickly. Edward's eyes are trained on my lips, and I can't take mine off of him. In the pale lights of the early morning, he's even more handsome.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks, already leaning in closer, his breath hot against my skin.
"Don't ask if you don't mean it." I can't think straight. My mind is a jumbled mess. The only thing I know in this moment is that I want to know what it's like to kiss this man. It's a ridiculous idea. I know wanting him is wrong, but I can't help it.
"Oh, I mean it."
Edward's arm swoops around me and under my backpack, pulling me into him. His other hand reaches up to cup my cheek. His lips are soft but sure. His head tilts to the side, and he pulls me in even deeper, taking control and making my knees go weak, kissing me breathless.
I can't remember the last time someone kissed me like that… Maybe no one ever has.
He leans his forehead into mine and then places his lips there like a promise or a prayer.
We sit on a bench near the fountains, Edward's arm thrown around my shoulder and the other hand around my waist. Sitting here in the middle of Trafalgar Square, nestled into his side, feels surreal. I know this isn't real life. It can't be… but I don't care. I'll just let it be… whatever it is and try not to overthink it.
I must doze off, because I feel Edward nudge my shoulder, waking me up.
"Watch." He points over the middle of the square, where the water lies still.
Suddenly, the fountains hiss to life. Sprays of water whip into the breeze, and the early morning sun shines on Big Ben.
I wish I could capture this moment and carry it with me always.
"Thank you," I whisper to Edward, unwilling to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around us.
After a few minutes of taking it all in, his lips kiss the top of my head as he draws in a deep breath. "Let's go."
We make our way back to Notting Hill. Once we're off the tube, we wave at a few faces that have become familiar over the last week, people who are starting their day. I can't remember the last time I stayed out all night.
Quietly, we let ourselves into the flat, trying not to disturb anyone who might still be sleeping. Alice's boyfriend, Jasper, stays here most nights, and she's renting out her small office, turned fourth bedroom, to a younger guy from Germany. We've got a full house.
Walking into my room, my hopes of a few hours of restful sleep are dashed. The early morning sun is beating in, covering the room in a bright orange glow. I groan when I realize that the flimsy white curtains do nothing for keeping out the light.
"Hey," Edward says quietly from the doorway. "You can sleep in my room. It's nice and dim." He waggles his eyebrows, but I can tell by his playful demeanor that there's nothing behind his offer besides a few hours of sleep.
"You sure? These beds are small."
"You're small. Let's get some sleep," he says, waving me into his room.
I hesitate for a second, questioning myself for the millionth time since I got here last week. What the hell am I doing? But then Edward smiles at me, his green eyes sleepy, and I can't refuse.
"OK."
Like earlier this morning, Edward's palm is flat on my back, and he urges me into the room, shutting the door behind him. I stand there staring at the bed, frozen in indecision. Do I sleep fully clothed? I've been wearing these jeans and t-shirt since yesterday.
I hear the small chest of drawers being opened behind me, and Edward hands me one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweats. "Here. Put these on. I won't look."
But I do look.
I watch Edward grip the back of his shirt and pull it over his head, exposing his chiseled chest. He's not too muscular, just enough to have a few packs on his abs and a nice 'v' shape angling down toward his boxers that are sticking out of the top of his jeans.
Shit. I suck in a much needed breath and wet my parched lips with my tongue.
"You OK?" he asks, balancing on one leg as he takes his shoe off.
"Uh, yeah. Fine. You said you weren't going to look."
"Oh, right. Sorry." He hops on his foot until he's facing the wall, and I have a nice shot of his jean-clad ass. I wonder what it looks like. I'm guessing as good as his chest.
That kiss must have made me stupid.
It was just a kiss… just a moment. He probably would've kissed anybody in that moment, right? What the hell am I doing?
For a moment, I allow myself to have a mini inner freak-out.
I kissed Edward… or he kissed me… Whatever… We kissed! I kissed a twenty-one-year-old. Does this shit happen in real life? Is this real life? What happens now?
When I hear Edward shaking his pants off onto the floor, I immediately tense. It takes every ounce of energy I have left not to turn around and ogle the goods, and again, I wonder where my inner compass has gone. Where's my conscience to draw me back in? It's like all of my common sense has abandoned me.
I've really gotta get a grip. Focus, Bella. It was just a kiss. No harm can come from a kiss. People kiss people every fucking day. Don't go there. Take 'fucking' out of your vocabulary.
I make quick work of changing my clothes, folding my dirties up and laying them beside the door.
"Which side?" I ask, trying to think about sleeping and keep my mind out of the gutter.
"Right."
"I was hoping you'd say that." I smile and climb over toward the wall, crawling under the blanket. Edward follows me in and does the same. Just about the time I find the sweet spot on the cool pillow, I feel his arm snake around my waist and pull me in close.
"Do you mind if we snuggle?" His voice is lazy and tired. I shake my head in response, unable to make a coherent statement. His proximity and warmth relax me, making me even more sleepy than I already was.
This feels right.
My mind starts to challenge me, but soon sleep takes over, and I fall into a peaceful dream about boyish smiles and green eyes.
***H***
I stretch my body out languidly, like a cat on a warm window sill. It takes me a second to remember where I am and why I'm here, but the death grip around my waist and the very erect penis at my back is a stark and startling reminder.
I can't help the giggle that bubbles up out of me.
Like, who am I? Whose life did I steal? Because I'm Bella Swan. I wake up alone. It's been so long since I woke up next to anyone, except for a ten-year-old, who's feet are usually jabbing my ribs. Even before the divorce was final, Sam moved out. We haven't slept in the same bed in over two years. I haven't slept with anyone in longer than that, because the demise of our sex life happened long before the end of our marriage. We separated, tried to work things out… went to marriage counseling. The end result was Sam talking out of both ends. He'd say he wanted to fix things… fix us, but when it came down to it, he'd talk a good talk and then do what he wanted. It was like when he wasn't home, he wasn't married. I lost respect and trust for him so fast. There was no saving our relationship. I don't miss him. I don't miss anything about what we had. But this… I miss this.
I miss waking up to someone… even if there is a dick in my back.
The giggles return, and a hand tickles my side, making me laugh even more.
"What's so funny?" His husky, sleepy voice is beyond sexy.
"Oh, nothing. I just get a little stiff while I'm sleeping, and I need a good stretch."
He laughs into the pillow, pulling me tighter to him, making sure I can feel just what he's packing. And it's nice. I'm not gonna lie. It feels good, and I want more.
"You're looking for trouble with statements like that." His words are gruff in my ear, turning me on even more than I already am.
"Oh, yeah?" I ask. "And why's that?"
"I think you know why, and I'm pretty sure you can feel just what you're doing to me."
"I thought all guys wake up like that."
"Yeah, but not like this. This," he says, running his hand down my side to my exposed hip and pushing me into him. "This is all you."
"Really?" I ask, rolling over to face him just in time to see him prop himself up on one elbow, his muscles flexing at the angle, with his chest right in my face.
"Yeah, I've been jacking off twice a day since you got here."
Holy shit.
"That's, uh…" I bury my face in his chest so he can't see the blush I know is there.
"Sorry. I have zero filter in the morning." He chuckles at his confession with such ease, his confidence only adding to his appeal. "Bella, what are you thinking?" he asks, forcing me to look at him.
"I'm not. I mean, I must not be thinking, because if I was, I'd be running down the hall and barricading myself in my room until it's time for me to fly home."
His honesty must be rubbing off on me.
"Why?"
"Because I shouldn't be here. We shouldn't be like… this."
"Why not? Don't you like me? Aren't you attracted to me?"
"You have no idea."
"Well, then what's so bad about… this?" His hand is back on my hip, and he's tracing lines up and down and around… making me forget what my argument was. Shit. I can barely remember my name.
"I don't want to be some cougar who's…"
"Stop right there." He places a finger on my lips, pressing them closed. His green eyes are locked with mine, and the way his eyebrows are pinched together, I know he's being serious, trying to make a point. "Age isn't an issue for me. I'd be attracted to you if you were eighteen or fifty. I'm just as drawn to what's in here," he says, placing his hand over my heart, "as I am to how beautiful you are. And Bella, you are so beautiful. I've never been so attracted to anyone in my entire life." He pauses, kissing my nose and my cheeks. "And before you go spouting off something about me not knowing or that I haven't lived yet, forget that. I've lived. I've been on every continent. I've had girlfriends. I've had my heart broken. So don't look at me like I'm some kid who you're going to taint. That's not even the case. This is just two people who like each other… who are drawn to each other. You can't make that shit up. It either happens or it doesn't."
This rant that he's on has me entranced. His words hit me at my soul. They resonate deep within, and I realize he's right. When I look at Edward, I don't see the same twenty-one-year-old I did on the first day we met. Sometimes he seems older than me. It's weird. And wonderful.
"Kiss me."
I'm hit with a searing kiss that rivals the one from earlier at the fountains. I feel my toes curl into the sheets, trying to hold me to the ground. His hands roam my body, slowly, as if he's memorizing each plane and valley.
Soon, soft, gentle strokes are replaced with urgent, needy ones. Clothes are discarded aimlessly. Words are whispered. Pleas are made.
Edward frames me with his arms, his naked body hovering above mine. Slowly, he enters, pausing to give me a second to adjust. It's unlike anything I've ever felt. The emotions attached to our actions are coursing through my veins and bubbling up inside me.
"Move, please. I need to feel you."
Edward's breaths are rapid as he fulfills my request, setting my body on fire with each thrust. My orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, shaking me to my core. Edward continues at a steady pace, allowing me to ride it out. When I've finally come down from the upper stratosphere, he starts pumping faster, growling out my name.
"You. Feel. So. Damn. Good." His words are choppy as he moves over me. "Look at me," he demands, and I do. What I see nearly brings me to tears. There's nothing but adoration and desire in those green eyes. The way he looks at me and moves inside me has me chasing another orgasm.
The feel of Edward pulsing inside me is what does me in. My body literally shakes with pleasure. My thighs clench around Edward's torso, holding him in a vise.
"Fuck."
"That was…"
"Yeah."
He rolls off of me, lying at my side, his hand thrown over his face. "Damn, Bella. It's never felt like that. Ever."
"For me either," I admit.
"You don't have to say that."
"I wouldn't if I didn't mean it."
He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arms protectively around me, holding me close. Soon, his breaths even out, and his grip loosens. I think about getting up and taking a shower, but my body feels like jello when I try to move. So I resume my position from earlier and drift back off to sleep.
***H***
Since our midday sexcapade, Edward and I have shared a room.
My days have been spent out with Edward, traipsing around London, and my nights have been spent wrapped up in Edward.
Tonight, we're going on a date.
He asked me out, and I said yes. I know we're going backwards here, but it feels right… and romantic. If I haven't had sex in two years, I haven't been on a date, like a real, honest-to-goodness date in ten.
Our relationship feels comfortable and empowering, kind of like my favorite black dress. There's nothing fancy or flashy about it. It's understated yet sexy. And it makes me feel like a million bucks.
Speaking of my favorite black dress, I'm glad I packed it, because it's coming in handy tonight. I check myself over in the mirror one last time before swiping red lipstick across my mouth and heading out into the hall. My breath hitches in my throat when I see Edward leaned against the wall, wearing dark jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He has a bulky silver and black watch on his wrist, and I catch a whiff of cologne. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating. I've never done drugs, but if he was one, I'd be an addict.
"You look… wow."
"This old thing?" I ask, smoothing down the front of my dress. I know I look good in it. It's the reason I've had it for so long. Once you find something that works, you keep it around.
Edward works.
I wish I could keep him around.
But I can't think about that right now. Right now, I want to go out with this amazing man and enjoy London. My departure is growing near, and I want to enjoy this while I can.
"I could say the same about you."
"This old thing?" he asks, mocking me as he wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek, breathing me in. When he does that, my whole body tingles. "You ready?"
I nod and take his hand. On our way out the door, I hear Alice call out to us to have a good time. Edward shuts the door behind us and offers me his arm as we stroll down the street.
"Where to, maestro?"
"You'll see."
We walk a few blocks, passing dimly lit windows and shopkeepers taking merchandise in for the night. The city takes on a different feel when the sun goes down. I really love the glow in the sky from the lights of the buildings. It rained earlier today, and the sidewalk is still damp. The smell of wet asphalt and fresh flowers and Edward swirl around me as the breeze picks up. I'm in such a daze that I don't even notice the pub until Edward pulls on my hand, signaling me to stop. It's tucked in between two flats, the dark green door is old and weathered, and a sign above it says it was established over a hundred years ago.
It's perfect.
Edward and I feast on bangers and mash and pints of ale over candle light. The conversation flows easily, as it always does, and we occupy the booth for over three hours. Our waiter is an older gentleman who keeps referring to us as "love birds". Neither of us corrects him. We just smile and go back to whatever it is we were talking about.
I don't even care what the topic is. We could talk about the weather or how the Seahawks beat the Broncos in the last Super Bowl. As long as he's sitting across from me, this is my favorite place to be.
Edward tells me about Northwestern and how he's looking forward to graduating next year. He's decided to go ahead and take the remaining classes to get his business degree. His dad owns a marketing firm in Chicago, and he knows that he can go back there and work for him if he needs to. One of these days, he'd like to go back and get his master's, or perhaps his law degree. I like the way Edward goes with the flow. He doesn't take life too seriously, yet he's still responsible and ambitious. I mean, come on, you can't graduate from Northwestern and not be. He's intelligent but unpretentious. He's bigger than life but understated. And even though he's a true free spirit, there's still a level-headed thinker in there.
He's such a good balance. A good person.
Edward overheard my phone call this morning with Seth, so that brought on a conversation about him… what he likes, how he's handling being a kid with divorced parents. It's nice that Edward doesn't seem freaked out by any of it… the divorce or the kid. He casually mentions meeting him, and I'm not sure what the look on my face is like, but he must see something that makes him change the subject, while I'm left trying to picture how that would go. What would it be like for Seth to meet Edward? Would they get along?
I shake my head, clearing those thoughts. I can't let myself go there.
After Edward pays the bill, "because it's a date, and I insist", we venture back out into the night. The faint melody of brass instruments fills the air, and Edward pulls me by my hand down the street until it's closer and louder. When we reach the next intersection, I can see three older gentlemen sitting on the opposite corner, blowing into their trumpets and saxophones. The melody is familiar, and Edward begins to hum along, taking me by the hand and pulling me into his chest.
"Dance with me."
"Here?" I ask, looking around at the mostly deserted street.
"Yes."
He holds me close, and we begin moving to the music—my cheek on his chest and one of his hands splayed across the bare skin on my back, the other hand holding mine and tucked under my chin. He rests his head on top of mine, and we sway.
"You're ruining me." The words leave my lips just as a tear slips out of the corner of my eye.
"How?"
"No other man will ever live up to this." I'm only telling the truth, what I'm feeling in my heart.
"That's what I'm hoping for."
Suddenly, the world feels cruel and the what-ifs take over my mind. What if he were older. What if I were younger. What if we lived closer. What if, what if, what if…
I take a deep breath, immersing myself in Edward, and push all of that away, if only for a night.
Carpe diem and all that jazz.
***H***
The ride to the airport feels entirely too short. I've been near tears since last night. Edward and I haven't discussed my departure outside of the facts—when and where. Even last night, as we lay there in the dark, neither of us said a word.
As the taxi pulls up in front of the departures gate, Edward hops out and waits for the driver to get my bags.
"We can say goodbye here if you want."
"No. You still have three hours before your flight leaves. I'll stay until you have to go through security."
"OK." I know the longer we prolong the inevitable, the harder it's going to be. I don't want to say goodbye. I can't. I don't really know what I want, but I do know I want to see Edward again. As many conversations as we've had, we've never talked about what happens when we leave London. Sure, we've talked about what we're doing when we get back, but not what we are doing.
I walk up to the ticket counter and wait in line to check my luggage and get my boarding pass. Every minute or so, I look over my shoulder to make sure Edward is still there. Just this little bit of distance has me on edge, and I kick myself for allowing these feelings to creep up on me like this. I knew I'd be going home. I knew this was just a holiday. I knew we would say goodbye and that this would always just be a fond memory.
"How many bags, miss?" The attendant checks over my passport and begins printing out my documents.
"Just two."
"Did you have a nice holiday?"
"The best."
"We hope you'll be back to see us again soon." She smiles and slides my tickets over to me, taking my bags and placing them on the belt. This is it. I'm going home. Leaving London and Edward. I force back the tears that are threatening to fall and hurry back to where he's standing.
We walk to the security line, and it's long. I know I need to go. The last thing I need is to miss my flight. Actually, that doesn't sound like a bad idea.
"Hey." His finger tips my chin up. "What are you thinking about?"
"I probably should go. This line is really long. It'll probably take me an hour to get through it."
"Yeah."
"I guess this is goodbye." I barely make it into his arms before my face breaks. I don't want him to see me cry. I feel weak and vulnerable.
Edward's arms encase me, and he holds me so tight I feel like I can't breathe. "Don't hold me like you're never going to see me again," I tell him, pressed against his chest and wishing he'd never have to let go.
"Then don't talk like this is goodbye," he counters.
"This isn't goodbye," I retract, taking back what I said. I don't know how I know, but I do. In this moment, staring up into his beautiful green eyes, I know that what we have isn't just a holiday romance. It's real, and there's a chance we can make this work outside of London. It might not be easy or conventional, but nothing worth having is ever easy. And who needs convention?
"Until I see you again," he says, smiling down at me, his arms still holding me tightly.
"Until I see you again," I agree.
He nods, twisting his lips into a smirk. "It's not going to be the same without you. These next few days are going to be hell, but just know that this has been the best holiday ever."
"I couldn't have dreamed of a better one." I smile up at him, trying to memorize everything about him. "I wish every holiday could be with you."
"That's what I'm hoping for."
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