“Quite frankly, I don’t mind where they shut me up as long as I can have the same company as I did today.”
She raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Really? Are you trying to butter me up?”
“Maybe,” I admit with a shrug. “Is it working?”
Her cheeks flush slightly, and she laughs, trying to dismiss it. “You’re impossible.”
“Did you mean to say impossibly charming?” I ask, smiling.
“You’re kind of making my point there.”
She takes selfies from the capsule, joking about in ridiculous poses and exaggerated expressions. She insists I do a duck face for her, and I comply, though poorly. She laughs until herstomach hurts, and I’m staggered by how relaxed and happy I feel doing dumb stuff. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good and whole. I notice the way people are glancing at us. We probably look like a couple out for the day. And they are right. In this bubble, we are a couple, banter bouncing off the glass walls, laughter mixing with the hum of the wheel.
The view is pretty impressive at the very top. I glance down at the Thames, and out over the city, then at Pippa, standing there with her hair catching the sunlight, her eyes wide, and her mouth slightly open in awe. And my pulse quickens. I want her. God, I want her so much it feels like a fist in my guts.
“You look,” I say softly. “Completely adorable.”
“I think you mean breathtaking,” she says with fake solemnity, though I see the blush creeping into her cheeks.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant,” I reply, grinning.
As we descend slowly, the shadows lengthen, and the city begins to light up. Pippa leans against me again, and I let it all happen; the proximity, the warmth, the easy laughter. I think about the day we have shared so far - the Dungeon, the café, Buckingham Palace, and now this - and I realize that nothing about this day feels fake anymore. Even the charade of getting to know each other has a strange, honest magic to it.
“You know,” I say quietly. “This might be the best day I’ve had in a long time.”
She glances up at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. “You mean with me as your ridiculously charming sidekick?”
“Exactly,” I say, smiling. “You make even the most awfully touristy things fun.”
She laughs. “Did you just use the word awfully in the most terrible British accent?”
I smile. “When in Rome …”
The capsule slows and stops at ground level, and the doors open.
“Come on. Let’s feed you,” she says.
Chapter Thirteen
Pippa
The smell hits me before anything else. Salt and vinegar mingling with the faint hint of fried batter. It’s an unmistakable smell, one I love. My stomach growls with hunger, which is perfectly convenient since Rhett and I are standing in front of a tiny, blue and white, fish and chip shop near the river.
“Authentic fish and chips to cap off the day,” he says, grinning down at me.
“Yup? So authentic they wrap it up with old newspapers like they used to in ye olden days.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, greasy fish wrapped in newspapers is really quite charming.”
He laughs, that easy, infectious laugh that has me melting every time he does it.
When we reach the front of the queue, I order for us – two portions of haddock and chips with lots of salt and vinegar, mushy peas, and two cans of Coke. The girl behind the counter makes up our order quickly and efficiently, asking if we wantthem wrapped or open. I tell her open and she nods. When the order is ready, we each grab a Coke and our steaming hot fish and chips with a layer of newspapers beneath waxed paper. We step back out onto the Thames walkway. The sun is dipping low, casting golden reflections across the water, and the air smells faintly of the river mixed with fried food.
I watch Rhett take a bite of his fish.
“Well?” I ask expectantly.
