At one point, she laughed so hard at a comment he made that she dropped her fork. He caught her hand before she could reach for it, thumb brushing over her knuckles once.
She found herself cataloging every detail. The pendant light above his dining table, long and linear, suspended by near-invisible wires. The scent of the wine he’d opened for her: crushed pear, lemon zest, the faintest trace of brioche. The exact way his voice dipped when he said her name.
Some part of her brain whispered:remember this.
After dinner, they sat on the couch with a small mango chiffon cake. No candle, but she didn’t need one. It felt like a birthday. They ate it together with two forks.
And then he said it. “We should talk about January.”
She nodded, eyes finding the pattern in the wood grain of the table.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She hadn’t told him about the opportunity at Monaghan & Stowe, or Nico’s phone call. “I have exams until mid-December.”
He waited.
“And then Naomi’s wedding is just before Christmas.”
That wasn’t what he was asking. She knew it.
“Bea,” he said, and his voice gentled. “You’ve known about London since May.”
“I know.”
Her wineglass caught the candlelight. Refracted it. Like it was trying to blur everything that felt too stark.
She’d started clearing her closet of things she wouldn’t wear in London. Made a list of places to say goodbye to. Tried new cafés in unfamiliar corners of the city, like she could drink the leaving out of her system.
But the truth was, the closer London came, the less real it felt.
“I have to leave two days after Christmas.”
Her pulse pressed up against her collarbone. The fact he had not just a start date for work, but a date for hisflight, meant the countdown had truly begun.
She had to say it. Couldn’t keep swallowing it like it didn’t matter. Not when holding it in had started to wear holes inside her.
She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Swallowed. Then did it again. “Who would I be in London, Gage?” she finally asked. “Besides…an extension of you?”
She’d almost joked. Almost said, ‘…your stylish sidekick?’ But it caught in her throat. Because it wasn’t funny.
She’d run out of other ways to say it. All the careful words had failed. The only version left was the raw one.
He exhaled. “I don’t know yet, but I want to find out. And I want to make sure you find it, too.”
She believed him.
This was the part no one told you about growing up: that love could be true, and still not be simple.
His gaze stayed on her. “Have you made a decision?”
Her fingers curled slightly around the glass stem. “I want to be with you.”
Gage absorbed that.
Then, because he was always precise: “In London?”
She nodded.
