Blue sky.
Big Ben.
My smile wide, my eyes on the camera.
But Marcus…
I blinked as I stared at him.
Half of his smile was curled, and his eyes—they were undeniably on me.
We looked… together. His arm draped around me like it belonged there, my head tilted instinctively toward his. It didn’t look posed. It looked real.
Too real.
It's killing me pretending that I don't.
The whole moment felt like a flash bang in my mind, and my eyes blinked like it would erase it.
I turned the phone toward Marcus, the gentle breeze wrapping around me.
“We… uh, make a decent fake couple,” I swallowed, trying to keep my voice light.
He barely looked at it. “You should delete that.”
“But you’re actually smiling.” I looked up at him, lifting my hand to my head, blocking out the sun. “This may never happen again.”
His hard stare didn’t break, but his jaw tightened. “Hilarious.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. His eyes lingered on mine, steady, unreadable. And for a heartbeat, it felt like something unspoken passed between us, something neither of us was supposed to admit.
My chest tightened, my fingers twitching like I might reach for him if I was stupid enough. He looked like he might say more, like the truth was right there, ready to slip free, before he caught himself.
His gaze shifted toward the group ahead, where Finn was shouting my name.
“You’re being summoned,” he said, voice steady, like nothing had passed between us at all.
But I knew better.
Something had.
I quickly tapped the heart beneath the photo, tucking the phone back into my pocket before glancing at him over my shoulder, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Still not deleting it.”
chapter twenty three
he's my earl grey
“Fuck me.”
I knew the Lady Mayfair hotel was good. But there was good, and then there was whatever slice of heaven this room was.
Tristan and I had said we’d take care of this trip, but before I could even talk to him about flights, he’d already sorted everything. And I mean everything.
On the lift ride up, I was re-reading the email from Louellen, pardoning me from all events until I was home. I hadn’t even spoken to her about London—but it seemed Tristan had. I thought of all the ways I could let him know how thankful I was. Regardless, Louellen was fine with the impromptu summer holiday. There wasn’t an awful lot of networking I could do anyway with my Nouvelle piece submitted. (!!!!)
I dropped my little shoulder bag by the door and stepped farther into the room, my feet brushing over the carpet, my body tugged forward by the golden light spilling across it. The view out the window stopped me cold. The same warm gold that engulfed the room bathed the river too. Parliament glowedlike something out of a dream, like whatever was happening inside was pure good. And the last of the sunlight caught on the rooftops.
