“Yeah,” Bea said softly. “Apparently he wasn’t speaking metaphorically.”
“You should start keeping a list on your phone,” Claire advised. “Future-father-in-law idiosyncrasies.”
“Don’t even kid, you know that list is coming.”
Claire leaned back. “Well Bey, it looks like you’re officially dating a man with a succession plan. That’s rarer than a good Hinge date.”
“I think I might be moving to London.”
Claire paused, then said, “Okay. But like, do they have oat milk?”
“Get. Out. I asked myself the same thing!”
“And?”
“I Googled it. Thankfully, yes.”
“That means it’s inhabitable, at least.”
Bea exhaled. “What if I say yes?”
Claire studied her for a moment. “Then you’ll figure it out. You always do.”
But what if this time, I don’t?
“And if not”—some days, Bea swore that Claire could actually read her mind—“you’ll come back with a posh accent and at least one pair of Wellingtons.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The coffee cart was out of oat milk.
It shouldn’t have felt like a sign, but it did. The barista—a girl who wore earrings shaped like planets and always gave Bea a subtle nod of solidarity during midterms—leaned on the counter and whispered, “Soy’s your best bet today. I’m not feeling the new almond brand.”
Bea nodded staidly, as if being handed national security intelligence. “Soy it is. Let the record show I’m adapting.”
She took the cup and stepped to the side, pulling out her phone with one hand while taking a cautious sip. The soy was…fine. Like Colonel Brandon fromSense and Sensibility. Not exciting, but dependable.
She opened her Notes app. The document was already titled:
MOVING TO LONDON??
The double question marks made it feel indifferent. Like she might delete it later. Like she hadn’t been updating it compulsively with random thoughts since 7:12 a.m.
She added a line:
Do they have mangos in summer?
Her lecture was in fifteen minutes. International Development.
The irony was not lost on her.
Bea walked the path between the admin building and the library, past first-years who moved in slow, wide-eyed clusters, and fourth-years who looked aggressively caffeinated. A few nodded vaguely at her. She didn’t stop. Her feet moved. Her brain didn’t.
The list was already growing faster than she could contain it:
