Mercifully, no one seems to notice I’m blushing, or if they do, no one comments. I reply to tell Drew I’ll meet him at the Percival.
But fifteen minutes later, when I’m rummaging through my suitcase for something to wear, Sarah knocks on my bedroom door.
“You have a date, huh?” she asks when she’s closed the door behind her.
“I think so,” I admit, and I feel my cheeks heating again. “Maybe.”
“Anyone I know?”
“It’s Drew, actually. From back home.”
Her eyebrows go up. “The neurosurgeon? What’s he doing in London?”
“I’m not sure, actually. He might be here for a conference or something.”
“Or he followed you here,” she teases.
“Right,” I say, with a roll of my eyes to show her what I think of that suggestion.
I think I’m afraid to believe it’s possible.
“Where’s he taking you?” Sarah asks.
“The Percival. He’s staying there.”
Her eyebrows go up again. “Let me know if you decide to sleep over.”
I take the Tube to The Percival, an upscale hotel in the middle of Mayfair. I’m fifteen minutes early to meet Drew, so I head to the bar off the lobby. It’s full of well-dressed people, and I wish I was wearing something fancier than my navy linen wrap dress and wedge sandals.
And then I spot Drew, sitting at the bar in a charcoal gray suit, and I forget about what I’m wearing.
Because Drew’s staring at me like he’s been stranded in the desert for a week, and I’m a drink of water.
He stands and walks toward me, and there’s no longer any doubt.
He came to London for me.
“Of course he did,” Drew says, and I realize I spoke the words aloud. “You left him with a note.” His tone is light, but there’s a storm of emotion in his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry, Drew. I shouldn’t have left like that.”
His expression softens. “No, Ally, I . . .” he trails off and reaches for my hand. “Let’s sit down.”
“You didn’t have to work today?” I ask, as he leads me to a table in the back corner of the bar.
“I called in a favor and asked someone to cover,” he says, pulling out my chair for me.
“Ah.”
When we’re sitting across from each other, Drew takes my hand again. His touch soothes me in a way nothing else could, and I realize I can’t keep pretending there’s nothing serious between us. He’s always been a safe place for me, and I need to trust him with the truth.
I open my mouth to tell him how I feel, but he speaks before I can.
“I was angry as hell when I got your note,” he says quietly. “But then I realized it was my fault, because I didn’t tell you.” He hesitates, and I see his throat move as he swallows. “The thing is, Ally, it was always real for me.”
I stare at him, not understanding. “What?”
“Our relationship. I said it was fake, but I wanted it to be real. Ever since I told the Tates you were my girlfriend. Hell, probably even before that.”
