My knees almost give out. Relief crashes into me so hard I have to grab the counter again.
“Oh my God, thank you. That was dangerous. Why did you chase the guy? What were you thinking? What if he was armed? This is New York. Robbers carry guns and knives, you know. This is a just a cheap bag I bought at a sale in River Island. You could have died for £39.99,” I rant uncontrollably. I realize I’m about to hyperventilate and stop suddenly. I take a deep, calming breath. “Are you … are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” he says gently, looking deep into my eyes. His hair is a little mussed, his eyes a little wild, but otherwise he looks maddeningly composed. “The guy is gone. You got your stuff back. I’m fine. It’s all good.”
I take the purse with trembling hands, and press it against me. My heart is fluttering like a freaking butterfly, and my throat is behaving strangely. What on earth is wrong with me? Why do I feel as if I have been punched in the solar plexus by a heavyweight boxer? It must be the shock. It scared me silly.
Then, without warning, in that winded moment, watching him, adrenaline still humming between us, I realize something undeniable: I’ve … I’ve … Dear God! Fallen for him. Completely. Helplessly. Hopelessly. I want to pull him into a big hug and never let go. Never let him do something so crazy again. There’s no pretending my heart is not hurting for him. I never hurt like this for George. I just felt safe and comfortable.
“Rhett,” I start, but the words catch. Because what do I even say? Thanks for saving my purse, and also, bad news, I’m in love with you. I always knew I could have a future in writing greeting cards.
He studies me for a beat, his expression unreadable, then glances away, like he can’t understand what’s up with me, so he’s giving me space to gather myself. I swallow hard and make a decision. I refuse to let one petty thief ruin this night.
“Pizza,” I announce, my voice far steadier than I feel. “We’re getting pizza. Because apparently, that’s the only way I’m coping right now with my encounter with a purse thief.”
His mouth curves into a grin. “Pizza? Now you’re talking.”
New York pizza is nothing like the kind back home. The slices are enormous, thin enough that they flop under their own weight. We find a hole in the wall type of place just off the square, the kind with old-fashioned lighting and cracked red booths, a line of people stretching to the door. The air smells like heaven, filled with the tang of yeasty dough, bubbling cheese, and rich tomato sauce.
We each get a slice of pizza the size of my torso and squeeze into a corner booth. I burn my tongue on the first bite, but I don’t even care.
“Oh my god,” I moan around a mouthful. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Control yourself, Pippa Fairfax. You’re making it sound indecent.”
I kick him under the table, grinning despite myself. “Shut up. You know it’s amazing.”
He takes a bite of his own, chewing thoughtfully. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” I gape at him. “This is a religious experience. This is proof there’s a higher power. This is …”
He cuts me off by stealing the crust from my plate.
“Hey, get another, you greedy guts,” I scold.
Then I have to laugh. His expression. And just like that, the earlier tension in my chest melts away. For a moment, it’s just us with pizza sauce on our fingers, the neon lights still flickering faintly through the window.
My phone buzzes on the table, announcing I have a text message. I glance down, expecting it to be Sandra or Lucy demanding updates. But the name flashing on the screen makes my stomach dip. George. I read the message without picking the cell phone up. The message is short.
Your mother said you are in New York. I miss you. Come home soon. Please.
There’s even a little heart emoji tagged on at the end.
For a second, I just stare at it. I have a text message from George, who once took up so much space in my head. George, whom I thought I loved with all my heart. He’s telling me exactly what I’ve wanted to hear since the day he callously broke my heart and left me to languish while he carried on with Claudia. But now, well, I can’t even remember the last time I pined for him. Certainly not once today. Not once since Rhett and I met. My thumb hovers, but the urge to reply just isn’t there. I let the screen go dark.
When I glance up, Rhett is watching me. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. His mouth tilts into a grin, like he already knows the answer. I roll my eyes and take another huge bite of pizza, pretending not to notice. But warmth spreads through me anyway, as undeniable as the glittering ring on my finger.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Pippa
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cz0FF3vJ2TM&list=RDm5N9IHqqGcA&index=27
-Summer wine-
The longer Rhett and I linger after we have finished eating our pizza, the more the city seems to pulse around us. The neon signs look brighter now, the crowd is denser, and the hum of traffic is louder. Everything feels heightened. Maybe it’s because my body is still buzzing from adrenaline, maybe it’s because of the way Rhett keeps glancing at me when he thinks I’m not looking, like he’s checking if I’m really here, really safe.
We step back into the square, weaving our way through the throngs of people. Street performers cluster near the pedestrian zone. A breakdancing crew has claimed a patch of the pavement and is doing their thing. Spinning and flipping while a circle of onlookers claps and cheers. I find myself clapping too, caught up in the moment. Rhett leans down to murmur in my ear, his voice warm against my skin.
