My eyes flutter. “I didn’t think to check their hours.”
“What if I headed over to your neighborhood and we grabbed coffee locally? That would give you some time to get ready.”
“Would you mind? I, um, don’t think a fuzzy robe is the best outfit to go out in.”
“I’ll hop on the Tube now.”
“Do you need me to text you the address?”
“I remember where it is from last night.”
I give him the code for the entry door, and we disconnect the call. I sprint to the bathroom to start getting ready. It won’t take Sam long to reach me. Ten or fifteen minutes tops. That leaves me just enough time to wash my face, and throw on a light layer of makeup and real clothes. Normally, I don’t even wear makeup to work, but this morning, I feel like it. I want to impress him without trying, if that makes any sense.
Rummaging through my closet, I pull the first dress I see off the hanger and shimmy into it. It’s a long blue maxi dress. I pair it with a set of hoop earrings and a baroque pearl pendant. Just as I’m securing the clasp, there’s a knock at the door. Perfect timing.
“It’s open,” I call out.
Reviewing my reflection one final time, I step into the hallway and exhale. The doorknob turns and in walks Sam. He’s dressed in jeans, black runners, and a charcoal-gray sweater. Another look that will live rent free in my mind for days to come. If there were ever a man who was fit tomodel a sweater, it’s him. Just how many does he own? Do they all conform to his broad chest just as perfectly to his body?
Plastic crinkles, and it’s then that I notice Sam has a bouquet of soft-pink roses in his hands. “These are for you. They may not be as brilliant as the ones at the conservatory, but I thought they’d be an appropriate substitute. The color reminded me of your blush. It’s the same shade of baby pink.”
“Oh, Sam, these are lovely!” Bringing the flowers to my nose, I take in their fragrant aroma.
I’m transported back to the evening I received my contract with LABT. It was one of the few times I received fresh flowers as a dancer and one of my better memories from my time in California. They were a bouquet of delicate light-pink roses, just like these. I kept them in my dressing room as long as I could before they were beyond saving and had to be tossed out. Now I have a new memory to add to it—Sam being the first man to bring me flowers.
“Let me just stick these beauties in some water.” Walking over to the kitchen, I find an empty Mason jar, stick it under the tap, and remove the plastic. “Roses are my favorite.”
“Are they? I’ll remember that for next time. I couldn’t decide between the roses and the peonies.”
“Oh, peonies are beautiful too. I’m a sucker for any sort of flowers. I’d buy them more often if fresh ones weren’t like thirty pounds a bouquet.” I wouldn’t be surprised if Sam spent a small fortune on these. Roses tend to be the most expensive. I pull them out of the sink and sniff them again.
“If they make you happy, they’re money well spent.” Sam takes a moment to survey me. “You’re wearing blue. I approve.”
“I’d like to take credit and say I planned it this way, but it was actually the first thing I grabbed from the closet. Hope I’m not disappointing you.”
“Not at all. We’ll just pretend you did it because you think the Blues are a better regiment than the Life Guards.” He winks.
I arrange the flowers so they’re centered. “Aren’t you both the same regiment?” I ask quizzically.
“Technically speaking, yes. We’re both under the banner of the Household Cavalry and we work together when we’re out in the field, but that doesn’t stop us from having a healthy rivalry with one another. Wedohave different sleeping quarters and keep our horses in different stables.”
“That makes sense.” I gesture to the fridge. “You know, I think I have enough supplies here to make a quick batch of pancakes. We can eat here if that’s okay with you. My coffee isn’t anything to write home about, though. It’ll just be french roast pods from Costco.”
Sam rubs his stomach. “Pancakes and coffee sound brilliant.” He pulls out one of the bar stools from under the kitchen island. “Anything I can do to help?”
“No, I’ve got this. I screwed up this morning, so breakfast can be my way of apologizing.”
“You didn’t screw anything up. We both were out late and it’s hard to think clearly when you’re tired. Trust me, the only reason I can function sometimes is because in the army, everything is routine.” He chuckles.
I walk over to the fridge and retrieve some eggs, milk, butter, and flour. “Still, I promise my being late won’t happen again. It’s unlike me to be so unorganized.”
“I believe that.” His eyes rove the apartment. “Your flat is so well put together and posh looking. It’s like aphoto in one of those glossy home and garden magazines.”
“Thanks, but believe it or not, everything you see here, my former flatmate and I bought second hand, from HomeSense or TK Maxx. None of it matched and it was all under fifty quid. We had to do a lot of painting and DIY jobs to get it to this state. It was more important that our furniture was comfortable.”
“Well, you could’ve fooled me. Everything looks like it goes together.”
“It’s all about hiding things in plain sight.” I point to the couch. “Take the couch, for instance. It’s actually turquoise. I made a slipcover to go over it so that it wasn’t such an eyesore. And the coffee table—we added wallpaper over the top to hide some of the stains from its previous owner.”
