After walking a mile, we came out of the wild darkness to a spectacular, colorful vista. The sun barely touched the mountain edge, casting the warm light over a valley below that featured a river weaving its way through a green grassland and disappearing into a rainforest. Andrew navigated us down the hill, and we slipped into the jungle’s shadows again, the green canopy shielding the afternoon sun as we went deeper. Soon, like a dark, hunched animal, the palace remains loomed in the distance.
The construction had stopped when the first-floor walls were erected, but even at this early stage, the imposing size of the structure’s footprint grew ever more impressive as we moved closer. The eerie tranquility struck me. Ten thirty-foot-high pillars stood like guards clothed in dark green and tethered together by beefy ropes of vines. Dense moss smothered the structure’s walls, tree roots pushed up the front steps of the staircase, and thick vines like snakes looped around standing columns. Maybe some of them were snakes—yuck! The hairs on my back stood up, and I shifted closer to Andrew, my arm bumping into his. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist.
“This is a good stopping point,” Andrew said. “With the first morning light, we explore.”
* * *
Wet wood logs popped and crackled, sending wisps of smoke and flickers of light toward a full moon amid the starlit graphite canvas. The canopy of treetops blocked most of the skies, but I could see stars in some places. Andrew rested his back on a column, his legs outstretched toward the fire, his right hand on the hunting rifle, his left one entwined with mine. I used his shoulder as my pillow, enjoying the warmth of his body beside mine. He smelled of sweat, smoke, and bug spray, and somehow, I found it sexier than his usual bergamot and powdery coumarin cologne.
I tried hard not to focus on how petrifying the jungle became once night blanketed it in darkness, so I thought about what Andrew and I would do when this was over, when we returned to our everyday life.
“After this trip,” I said, “where would you want our first date to?—”
“Gordon’s Wine Bar,” he said, before I’d even finished my sentence.
“I was afraid you’d say The Museum of London Archaeological Archive or something boring like that.” I lifted my head and looked at him. His eyes were closed. The golden glow danced on his firelit face. “And hey, you didn’t even have to think about it. Is it like your go-to place for all of your first dates?”
“I’ve never been there, but I thought you might like it.”
His exceptionally kind and romantic heart stirred a flutter inside my chest. He needed to stop saying and doing all the nice things because I wasn’t sure if my ribcage could expand to fit all the feelings I had for him. I kissed his stubbled cheek, then rested my head back on his shoulder.
“When you visit me in Atlanta,” I said, squeezing my fingers tighter around his, “I’ll take you to my two favorite places. First, Savannah, and then the Biltmore Estate. I know you’re spoiled with beautiful European palaces, but I promise you’ll fall in love with the US’s largest privately owned house.”
“I also want to take you to Dorset’s Jurassic Coast. Lulworth Cove is where my parents met,” he said. “At the end of May, before it gets busy with tourists, you and I will go there for a holiday. We’ll stay in a fishing village, at a quaint B&B, or a small cottage. We could rent a boat and sail. Go for a walk after breakfast and watch the sunset on the beach.”
I loved that Andrew had already put so much thought into our future dates, but how expensive it would be to fly to visit each other. And when would we find time? Anxiety and doubt oozed into my thoughts. Where would we be in five or ten years? He’d stated that he wanted a family. There was no way for him to have it if we lived apart.
“Andrew?” I said, closing my eyes too, it was hard to fight off the looming exhaustion. “Do you think it would work between us? You in England and me in the States.”
“Sure. Or you could move with me to Cambridge.”
I sat up and stared at him. “And do what?”
“I don’t know.” He faced me. “Do the same thing you would do in Atlanta.”
“Why should I be the one to move?” I said, with bitterness in my voice. “Why don’t you move in with me?”
“My job keeps me in Cambridge.”
Hot irritation boiled my blood.
I scoffed. “You want me to drop everything in my life so I can fit into yours?”
“You’re not dropping everything. You can still open your store, just in a different country.”
“With what money? I can barely afford to do it in my hometown. And Georgia real estate is cheap compared to other places.”
“I can loan you some money.”
No, thank you. I went through that bullshit ofI’ll-loan-you-moneywith someone else, and thatreallyworked out well for me.
“I don’t need your money,” I bit off.
“That’s fine. My cousin is a senior financial manager at a bank; she can help you figure out how to get a business credit line.”
I rolled my eyes. Everyone who had never tried to open a business thought I could just waltz into a bank and they’d hand me everything on a silver platter. It wasn’t that simple.
My pulse hammered in my ears, and out of nowhere, my old insecurity snaked inside my head. I couldn’t see myself living among his sophisticated, educated relatives, friends, and colleagues. Just like Greg, they would be polite and friendly to my face, but behind my back, they would laugh at me and my upbringing.
