Honestly?
Were it not for Silas and Fletcher’s relationship as teammates, I would’ve caved immediately.
I like Fletcher.
He’s the most fun kind of egotistical annoying that I’ve hung out with in a long time.
And I won’t see him either once I leave the country.
I suck in a massive breath, and I do something I already regret for how much it makes my heart flutter in the exact wrong way. “Fletcher, would you join us for tea?”
He stares at me a beat too long. Too intensely too. I’m positive he can feel my pulse accelerating and sense the heat building behind my nose as I face one more thing that I’m doing for possibly the last time for years. “Only if they make the tea right.”
I blink once, and then I actually laugh. “Canyoumake it right?”
“On three different continents, even though one of those continents doesn’t know what’s right.”
Is he serious?
“North America,” he clarifies. “You people here have no idea how to make proper tea.”
“Tea tea tea!” Hallie sings.
And a little while later, after sweet-talking his way in at the posh tea house that he is inzeroway dressed for, Fletcher agrees to don a princess tiara while he sits at the elegantly set table with the dainty chairs and heavy spoons and delicate teacups and saucers and shows Hallie the proper way to pour tea and hold a cup.
Her tea is hot chocolate.
Mine is Darjeeling. Fletcher orders Lapsang souchong for himself.
He also pulls a face when he touches the two small teapots delivered for each of us.
I lift a brow.
“Not warm enough. You’re supposed to warm the teapot.”
He grabs my porcelain, single-serving teapot, spoons looseleaf tea into it, and then pours hot water from the metal carafe over the leaves. He repeats it for himself, then sets a timer on his watch.
Sweet Pea has snuggled in against his chest and is snoring softly.
“No pinkies,” he tells Hallie. “Here. This is how they hold it in England.”
He takes her flowered bone china teacup by the teeny tiny handle in his big hand and demonstrates how to hold the cup the proper British way. “Pinkies down. It’s okay if you grab the whole teacup right now, because you’re a small human still, but when your hands get older, you only hold it by the handle.”
My heart ker-thumps at the sight of the giant rugby player huddled over tea with my niece.
If Silas could see this—no.
Nope nope nope.
Silas wouldn’t give Fletcher a chance.
“My hands get owder when my body gets owder,” Hallie says.
“Correct. I should’ve said when your hands get stronger.”
“My hands stwong likegrrr.”
“Can you palm a rugby ball?”
