Olivia laughed. “I bet. But she’s cute, so I guess we forgive her.”
“What art will we see?” Mia asked once they were on the tube.
“Well, we’re going to the Tate Modern, so we’ll see modern and contemporary art.” Mia frowned and Olivia tried again. “Paintings and sculptures that were created over the past one hundred and fifty years.”
Mia scrunched up her nose. “But that’s old.”
“I guess it is.” God, was she doing the right thing, taking her niece to the Tate? She’d figured kids liked painting and drawing. “I hope you’ll enjoy it, but if you don’t, we’ve got the aquarium after.” That had been Jessica’s idea.
Mia’s face lit up. “I love seeing the fish. Oh, and the rays. And will there be sharks?”
“Um, I don’t know. We’ll find out, won’t we?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the aquarium and experienced a pang of shame. Her nieces and nephews were all growing up and she’d not noticed. She wasn’t the aunt they’d have fond memories of. She was the aunt who sent them money on their birthdays—the dates meticulously noted in her phone—not the aunt who took them to cool places. Or who had fun with them.
She glanced at Mia. If Jessica hadn’t asked, she’d not be with her niece now. She’d be preparing her presentation for Monday.
“Mia, you know I love you, yes?” she said as they got off the tube and started walking through Blackfriars Station. “Even though I don’t see you as often as I’d like.”
Mia grinned. “That’s ’cause you work hard. Mum says you have an office in a tall building made of glass.”
“I do. I could show you one day, if you like.”
Mia nodded. “Cool.”
It was a five-minute walk to the Tate, a place Olivia liked to go when she needed to unwind, to clear her head. To be inspired. But, she realized once she’d taken Mia through three collections, it didn’t do much for an eight-year-old.
“When can we go see the fish and the sharks?”
“After lunch.”
Mia pouted. “But I want to go now. This place is boring.”
If they went now, they’d have nothing to do this afternoon, and she’d promised Jessica a full day. “Let’s go to the Expressionists collection. You might enjoy that, it’s very eye-catching.”
Mia sighed but followed her into the lift.
When Olivia stepped into the room showing the Expressionists collection, though, what caught her eye wasn’t the vivid paintings on the wall. It was the man sitting on the low bench, hands resting loosely on his thighs.
“Connor?”
His head reared up; his gaze bounced to hers. A beat later he was on his feet, striding toward her, arms outstretched.
Her pulse rocketed; her arms lifted, ready to go around his neck, her legs moved in his direction, ready to run.
No!
She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t see him when she wasn’t over him yet.
He must have seen something in her expression because he halted. Exhaling, he jammed his hands into his pockets. “Livvy.”
“What on earth are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Just... appreciating the art.”
“Connor!” Mia wrapped her arms around Connor’s legs.
“Hey, Dancing Queen, how are you doing?”
Her niece giggled. “Can we dance again?”
