So close, I could wrap my arms around him without taking a step, though I guess I’d have to stand on my tiptoes. The warmth of his body, the intensity of his gaze, the way his breath clouds the air between us—it’s all too much, and I’m two seconds away from doing something incredibly stupid.My heart thuds so loud, it’s drowning out my common sense.
Just as I’m closing the inches between us, Roxy’s voice echoes in my head.“You’re going to get hurt.”
I stop, backing up a step. “Well, bye,” I blurt, spinning toward my car like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic. “See you on Monday.”
I fumble with my keys, about to unlock the door, when he calls after me.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” His words come quickly, his footsteps echoing through the quiet space as he walks up behind me.
I turn, brows knitting. “Nothing in particular.”
“How about ice cream?”
And there goes my heart again. “What?”
“Well, I figure it wouldn’t hurt being seen together on Valentine’s Day.” He scratches the back of his head, avoiding my eyes. “Otherwise, I’m going to be viewed as some crabbit recluse again.”
“Oh, right.” I nod numbly, trying to ignore the bucket of ice water that was just dumped over my head “Of course! You know me, I can never turn down ice cream,” I add, my voice a little too high, too awkward.
He smiles softly, and I hate how it breaks down my defences. “It’s a date, then. See you tomorrow.”
“Afakedate,” I add, mostly to myself. I’m sure he doesn’t need the reminder.
He turns around and pauses, then nods. “I’ll pick you up at three.”
I slip into my car, slam the door shut, and grip the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. Eyes twisting shut, I suck in a deep breath, then another.
I just need to get through this date. Then we can break up. We didn’t go through all this trouble just to end our relationship on the eve of Valentine’s Day. And he’s right. If we’re not seen together, some tabloids might twist the narrative to start printing dirt on him again.
It’s just one more day. I can do this.
Chapter 22
Callum
Millie looks stunning today, and for the first time in my life, I wish I was on a real date. I nearly lost my breath when she stepped out of her building in a red jumper with pink hearts, a pleated skirt that swishes with every step, and thick tights tucked into her heeled ankle boots. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, complementing her outfit.
“Verdict on the ice cream?” I ask, scooping another spoonful. We’re standing in a corner of the packed ice cream shop, where couples and families alike are lingering with their cones and cups. Everyone in London seems eager to try thisnew place. Apparently, cold on cold does work.
She moans, the spoon still in her mouth. “It’s delicious, and I’m a hard sell. You can really tell it’s homemade with proper ingredients, not the usual chain stuff. I hope they have a loyalty program.”
I chuckle, tasting mine again. She’s right. It’s creamy, not overly sweet, with just the right balance of flavour. “I see what you me—”
Someone bumps into me, jostling my arm.
“Sorry,” the girl mumbles. She glances over her shoulder with a wince before disappearing into the crowd.
“Maybe we should just walk outside?” Millie suggests, nudging her head toward the door. “It’s not that cold, and Hyde Park is just around the corner.”
I nod, grateful for the chance to escape the crowd. We squeeze our way through the sea of people and slip back out through the double doors. The winter sun greets us outside, weak but present, its rays bringing a touch of warmth to the crisp air. Our breath puffs out in soft clouds as we walk.
Millie pauses, carefully balancing her cup of ice cream in one hand. “Can you hold this for a sec?”
I take it from her, the cold seeping into my fingers as she tightens her scarf and buttons up.
“Are you sureyou’re okay with this?” I ask. “We could always go back to my car. I’m used to being outside regardless of the weather, but you’re not.”
“Oh, absolutely,” she chirps, her eyes gleaming. “It’s a beautiful day. Might as well enjoy it.”
