It dings again. I’m not sure why her texts sound more grating than anyone else’s. I shut off the sound.
“Who in the world is trying to text you so persistently, Elizabeth?”
Maybe he’s jealous. For some reason, this delights me. “Just a badSteel Magnoliasvibe. Can we talk about something else?”
“Righto. How about the pervy statue?”
I turn my attention to the twisting naked sea god and bare-breasted bronze mermaids.
“Let’s pretend it’s one of those inkblot tests. What do you see when you look at it?” he asks.
“I see an artist somewhere years ago chiseling away at their physical and mental health to create it.”
“Of course you do, Negative Nelly.”
“What do you see?”
“Rose Haworth. Secondary school, year twelve. She was my first date to permit more than snogging.”
I glance sideways at him. “You’re acting like a cad again.”
“Free spirit, you mean.”
In spite of his rakish facade, I really am grateful to him for introducing me to the Fin de Siècle. August has been good for me. “I liked kissing you yesterday.” I keep my eyes on the statue, hot blush creeping up my neck. “It’s just hard for me.”
“I understand.”
“Next time, I won’t weird out and run away.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He leans forward, kissing me in front of the children, nannies, and naked sea god. It’s a chaste kiss, warm, soft, our mouths tasting slightly like coffee. It’s very nice, proper even by Victorian standards.
“Can I make us dinner reservations tomorrow evening, 7:00?” he asks against my mouth.
“Uh-huh.”
Still swooning from my morning with August, I get back to the row house early afternoon. After a light lunch of cranberry chicken salad, Ms. Fernsby asks if she and Mabel can take Heathcliff to the Old Operating Theatre Museum. I readily agree with them that he would enjoy the ghoulish exhibits and a fake amputation demonstration. Perhaps it will make him less afraid of shots.
After they leave, just as I’m deciding how to spend the rest of my afternoon, someone knocks on the door.
“Bella?”
Bella Patel stands at the doorstep. But she’s wearing a short blond bob wig under a running hat and round dark sunglasses. The casual workout leggings and top only accentuate her sleek, toned physique.
She puts a finger over her lips and steps in.
The minute I shut the door, she collapses against it with a long exhale. “Whew! I think I got rid of him!”
“Who? Are you prepping for the next spy movie? You’re the latest Bond girl, right?”
“I wish! No. I’ve just had this fucking aggressive paparazzi guytrailingme all morning! Apparently, I’mso interestingsince Everett broke up with me, and I’m with someone else. It’s all been pretty messy and complicated.”
“It wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”
She chuckles. “And I hope you don’t mind me stopping by like this. I’ve wanted to hang out, and it was kind of spur-of-the-moment. I was going to text you, but you had your phone off, so—I hope you don’t mind—I called Sarah to see where you were staying in London.”
