“No,” I say, smiling. “The profile was fine. But dessert deserves to be enjoyed slowly so it can be properly appreciated.” I brush my thumb along his jaw. “Which means we should probably eat dinner first.”
“You make a very convincing case,” he says, eyes dark with amusement. “Fine. We’ll have dinner first. Then dessert.”
He returns to his seat just as the waiter appears with fresh bowls of steaming pasta, basil and roasted tomatoes glistening under the candlelight, a basket of garlic bread still crackling with heat.
Once we’re alone again, Theo looks at me thoughtfully. “Tell me something about you,” he says. “Something real. I feel like I know you, but I don’tknowyou.”
My fork pauses halfway to my lips. For a split second, I consider it. Do I tell him that my childhood home was the Imperial Palace? That I have a Wikipedia entry that’s long enough to be a novella, detailing everything from my blood type to my favorite tea? Which are A+ and Twinings Perfect Peach, for the record.
No. The man sitting across from me didn’t ask for a press release. He asked for therealme. The girl who would happily throw her contact lenses into the Thames and wear her nerdy glasses full-time if she could, and who—despite what the tabloids might speculate—has never actually had a boyfriend.
“Okay,” I say, exhaling. “Three things. One—I am deathly afraid of spiders. Size is irrelevant. If it has eight legs and too many eyes, I’m vacating the building and letting the spider have the deed to the house.”
Theo chuckles, his elbows on the table. “Duly noted. I’ll add ‘arachnid security’ to my job description. And number two?”
“Two—I sleep with a nightlight.”
The teasing glint in his eyes disappears and is replaced by something softer. “Because of the fire?”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod, happy I don’t have to explain. “It keeps me company, I guess. It makes me feel like I’m not alone in the room, even when I am.”
“Have you ever tried those glow-in-the-dark stars?” he asks. “The plastic ones you stick to the ceiling?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve never even heard of those.”
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised. “I thought those were a universal childhood requirement. Like scraped knees and hiding vegetables.”
“Well, not for me.” I swirl a few noodles around my fork, trying to keep my voice casual. “My upbringing wasn’t exactly... typical. I was sheltered. I grew up in a historical residence where everything was an antique. You don’t exactly stick adhesive plastic to sixteenth-century crown molding.”
Theo’s brows lift. “Were all the embassy houses that old?”
I nearly choke on a noodle.Nice one, Kaori. Real subtle.“No,” I say quickly, forcing a light smile. “Just a few of them.”
“Hmm.” He nods, thankfully letting my slip go for now. He taps on his phone and slides it across the table. “That’s what they look like.” I look at the photo—a cluster of neon-green stars glowing against a ceiling. They look like a tiny personal galaxy.
“I suppose it’s like Ravensbridge,” he says as I slide the phone back. “My cousins spent a fortune restoring this place. They’d probably call the police if they caught me with a pack of glow stickers.” He takes another bite of pasta, then looks up, his gaze locking back onto mine. “So what’s the third thing?”
“When I was about five,” I begin, “I used to sneak into my father’s study on Saturday mornings. He’d be buried in the newspapers, but if I sat quietly, he’d let me stay. We’d watch cartoons with the volume turned all the way down, and he’d sneak me pieces of Hi-Chew candy.” I snicker. “My mom was strict about sweets, so it felt like we were coconspirators. Like we were breaking the rules together.”
I exhale. “Sometimes I miss being a kid. Back then, life was simple. I didn’t know how good I had it.” I set my fork down and reach for my water glass. “You’d like my father. You two have similar senses of humor and you both enjoymotorcycles. Though he doesn’t ride his bike anymore. He had to give it up when he became the emp—employee of the year.”
Employee of the year? Really, Kaori? That wasn’t just a slip; it was a full-speed skid across black ice. There is absolutely no way he’s buying a line that cheesy. I’ve officially blown it. My stomach twists into a knot, bracing for the inevitable follow-up question that brings the whole house of cards crashing down.
“I’d like to meet him sometime.” Theo watches me for a beat. “We should probably eat before the pasta gets cold.”
Relief rushes through me. I take a bite of the pasta, though I barely taste it over the sound of my own thudding heart. I make a silent promise to myself right then—I’ll tell him everything this week.
Seventeen
We return to London the scenic way. The helicopter loops us past a few sights we missed earlier, like St. Paul’s. Its dome glows like a pearl. Neither one of us speaks much. Our hands stay loosely linked between the seats, fingers fitting together like they’ve always belonged that way. If it were up to me, my head would be resting on his chest, but you know, seat beltsareimportant.
We land at Stansted Airport, switch to the train, and eventually transfer to the Tube. The Underground is nearly empty at this hour, just a few night-shift workers heading home and a pair of tourists with matching backpacks who look like they’ve wandered three stops past Piccadilly.
Warm tunnel air rushes past as we step onto the platform. The blue-and-white station sign readsBERMONDSEYin bold letters. “Where are we?” I ask, taking it in.
“Bermondsey,” Theo replies, nodding to the sign.
“I see that,” I groan.
